it?
Lena and I were never going to claim back our marriage, not how it
used to be. Pride on my part, no denying. I am a proud man, always had a
stronger sense of pride than most. From a little kid I couldn't stand anyone
trying to take away or deny me my pride. At school if a teacher talked
down to me I'd fly off the handle. When bigger, older boys bullied me I
attacked, my own safety be damned, with fists and curses even if I lost a lot
of the fights. I did win the wars though. Bullies left me alone after a while.
And as I grew I picked off every boy who had bullied me and never let up
till I beat each one. Everyone knew, never mess with Henry Takahe. I was
never one to look for it though.
Pride, I know, is both good and bad. Maybe I was guilty of being
unable — or unwilling — to forgive and forget. But the same confident
streak gained me captain's rank in that drawn-out war. Pride in being
a Maori with intelligence and leadership qualities who resented his
European inferiors getting promoted in other battalions, awarded medals,
and damned if I was going to be left behind. Took my complaint to our
commanding general himself.
I asked him respectfully, why are Maoris not considered good enough
for officer material, sir?
Taken quite by surprise the general said he didn't know such inequality
existed, hadn't given it a thought. But since I had confronted him with it,
he'd recommend me for instant promotion to lieutenant, just as long as my
commanding officer agreed.
But I said, sir, that's half the trouble. The man you're asking to
recommend me is the man who won't.
In that case, Sergeant Takahe, I shall make the recommendation myself.
But God help you if you prove to be all complaint and no delivery.
I delivered. Ask my men. In every battle and skirmish I led from the
front. Good enough for my men, good enough for me. Won their respect,
same time I realised we couldn't be the same mates as before: there had to
be a separation. Out of which I learned heightened responsibility, as if I
owed far more than just the unit under my command.
Pride in being Maori meant we Maori soldiers didn't stand for being
called niggers by a bunch of Southern Yank GIs in a bar in Italy when
we had a couple of days' leave. We hoed into them and gave the racist
bastards a hell of a hiding. Maoris are no Negro slaves, we're slaves to no
one. Pride is what you show every person and in your own village it sets
an example, indeed a standard, for young people to follow. Pride is what
pushed me to cleaning up our community, hounding the town council to
install full electricity and sewerage services, so we the village in turn could
lift our living standards and with it our dignity.
In that war I learned to appreciate liberty, understand the layers of
democracy and how it is worth defending to the death. I went from an
ignorant young man just wanting adventure and a fight, to understanding
that our German enemy must be defeated at all costs or they would rule
the world with an iron fist. We saw their acts of retribution, executing
every second male in a Greek village to avenge the deaths of a mere few
of their own. Admittedly, we came to respect them as a worthy foe that
could fight almost like Maoris, with ferocity and cunning and guile. But to
want to rule the world is just madness. And when we found out after the
war what they did to the Jews, naturally we felt proud at having done our
bit to defeat Hitler and his Nazi henchmen. The Japs, they were more the
Americans' and Australians' to deal with.
As for an unfaithful wife, a soldier would rather be dead than come
home to what I did. That the guy was American seemed to make it more
hurtful. They were our allies, same side. I'd never do that to another man's
wife, especially not a soldier on the same side. Never.
Of the kid, all right I didn't know much about him. Didn't feel guilty
either. Heard him sing, though, and he was pitch perfect. Normally that
shared musical ability might have been
Lena and I were never going to claim back our marriage, not how it
used to be. Pride on my part, no denying. I am a proud man, always had a
stronger sense of pride than most. From a little kid I couldn't stand anyone
trying to take away or deny me my pride. At school if a teacher talked
down to me I'd fly off the handle. When bigger, older boys bullied me I
attacked, my own safety be damned, with fists and curses even if I lost a lot
of the fights. I did win the wars though. Bullies left me alone after a while.
And as I grew I picked off every boy who had bullied me and never let up
till I beat each one. Everyone knew, never mess with Henry Takahe. I was
never one to look for it though.
Pride, I know, is both good and bad. Maybe I was guilty of being
unable — or unwilling — to forgive and forget. But the same confident
streak gained me captain's rank in that drawn-out war. Pride in being
a Maori with intelligence and leadership qualities who resented his
European inferiors getting promoted in other battalions, awarded medals,
and damned if I was going to be left behind. Took my complaint to our
commanding general himself.
I asked him respectfully, why are Maoris not considered good enough
for officer material, sir?
Taken quite by surprise the general said he didn't know such inequality
existed, hadn't given it a thought. But since I had confronted him with it,
he'd recommend me for instant promotion to lieutenant, just as long as my
commanding officer agreed.
But I said, sir, that's half the trouble. The man you're asking to
recommend me is the man who won't.
In that case, Sergeant Takahe, I shall make the recommendation myself.
But God help you if you prove to be all complaint and no delivery.
I delivered. Ask my men. In every battle and skirmish I led from the
front. Good enough for my men, good enough for me. Won their respect,
same time I realised we couldn't be the same mates as before: there had to
be a separation. Out of which I learned heightened responsibility, as if I
owed far more than just the unit under my command.
Pride in being Maori meant we Maori soldiers didn't stand for being
called niggers by a bunch of Southern Yank GIs in a bar in Italy when
we had a couple of days' leave. We hoed into them and gave the racist
bastards a hell of a hiding. Maoris are no Negro slaves, we're slaves to no
one. Pride is what you show every person and in your own village it sets
an example, indeed a standard, for young people to follow. Pride is what
pushed me to cleaning up our community, hounding the town council to
install full electricity and sewerage services, so we the village in turn could
lift our living standards and with it our dignity.
In that war I learned to appreciate liberty, understand the layers of
democracy and how it is worth defending to the death. I went from an
ignorant young man just wanting adventure and a fight, to understanding
that our German enemy must be defeated at all costs or they would rule
the world with an iron fist. We saw their acts of retribution, executing
every second male in a Greek village to avenge the deaths of a mere few
of their own. Admittedly, we came to respect them as a worthy foe that
could fight almost like Maoris, with ferocity and cunning and guile. But to
want to rule the world is just madness. And when we found out after the
war what they did to the Jews, naturally we felt proud at having done our
bit to defeat Hitler and his Nazi henchmen. The Japs, they were more the
Americans' and Australians' to deal with.
As for an unfaithful wife, a soldier would rather be dead than come
home to what I did. That the guy was American seemed to make it more
hurtful. They were our allies, same side. I'd never do that to another man's
wife, especially not a soldier on the same side. Never.
Of the kid, all right I didn't know much about him. Didn't feel guilty
either. Heard him sing, though, and he was pitch perfect. Normally that
shared musical ability might have been
Similar Books
