Brave British soldiers and the Victoria Cross / a general account of the regiments and men of the British Army, and stories of the brave deeds which won the prize "for valour"

by Unknown

Assistant-Surgeon Temple, R.A., assisting Captain Mercer, R.A., at the attack on the Pa of Rangiriri.

Redoubts were then erected for the protection of Auckland; the bush was cut down for hundreds of yards on either side of the Great South Road; a Commissariat Transport Corps of nearly 1000 men was raised; four regiments of Militia were recruited, chiefly in Australia and the South; the strength of the Imperial forces was raised to 10,000 men; including local corps, we had about 25,000 men under arms to cope with the enemy, who have never been able to bring more than 600 men into the field. If the country had been open, the war would soon have been brought to a close; but our men had to pass unfordable streams and to force their way through the bush. The enemy fell back to a place called Mere Mere, situated on a rising ground on the Waikato, about nine miles from the Queen’s Redoubt. The enemy’s only artillery consisted of two old ship’s guns loaded with tenpenny nails; but the place was believed to be impregnable, and our men remained in camp there for three months. It was the old story of Sir Richard Strahan and the Earl of Chatham. General Cameron was longing to be at them, but he had to wait for Sir George Grey, and Sir George Grey was waiting for nobody knows what. The expense of supporting such an army in the field is enormous; three millions of money have already been expended. At length our troops advanced to attack the Maori stronghold; the preparations were as elaborate as Uncle Toby’s for the siege of Dunkirk, and something brilliant would doubtless have occurred if the Maoris had been a little less impatient. They evacuated Mere Mere, and fell back to Rangiriri, where they had a strong pa on the summit of a rising ground situated midway between the Waikato and an inland lake. If we were too slow at Mere Mere, we were a little too fast at Rangiriri; because the former was a place of no great strength it was inferred that the latter was the same. A rush was made; the outer works were carried; but the attacking party fell back on finding themselves confronted by other works of still greater strength. To retreat was to lose the prestige of our arms, and to invite the neutral tribes to rebellion. The place must be taken at all hazards; a second rush was attempted; the officers advanced in front, and cheered on the men, but the men refused to stir. The general then turned to the fifty artillery men who accompanied him, and, armed with swords and revolvers, they rushed forward, stopped to breathe for a moment in a gully, and reached the parapet, which some of them mounted. They were led by Captain Mercer, R.A., one of those brave, gallant, God-fearing men who are an honour to the service and to humanity itself. He had a presentiment that he would fall, but he was prepared to die; like Havelock, he had been preparing for death for years, and it did not take him by surprise. A Maori bullet struck him in the jaw, carrying away the lower part of the face; he rolled backwards on the ground mortally wounded. His party was repulsed. Was there a man there brave enough to advance to his assistance? He must hold his life cheap; he will have to pass through the double fire of the enemy. But what sacrifice will our soldiers not make for an officer they love? First one soldier advances, and then another and another, but it was only to meet with speedy death. It was at this moment that William Temple, an assistant-surgeon of the Royal Artillery, learned that his friend Mercer stood in need of his aid. Without balancing chances, or hesitating for a moment, he went where duty called—it might be to death, it could not be to dishonour. He reached the spot so fatal to the others; the most sanguine could scarcely indulge the hope that he could escape. For a moment he was enveloped in smoke; every eye was strained till it cleared away. A sort of sigh of relief rose from many a breast as he was seen by Mercer’s side, doing all that could be done to alleviate his sufferings. From instinct more than from intention, he stooped when exposed to the fire of the enemy, and thus their bullets passed harmlessly over his head. General Cameron, who had witnessed his devotion to duty, only expressed the desire of the whole army in recommending him for the Cross of Honour, which was awarded to him in the Gazette of the 23rd of September, 1864. Lieutenant Picquard, R.A., obtained the same honour for carrying water to the wounded at the risk of his own life.

The Artillery having failed, the general sent for the blue-jackets, told them his only hope was in their courage, and pointed to the pa. “Go on, my lads,” said their leader, “I’ll not be far behind you.” It would have been better, perhaps, if he had been a little before them; as it was, they advanced to within fifty yards of the pa, and then retired below the crest of the hill. One poor little middy of fourteen was shot through the head while in advance of the others. What could be done? The general was ready to receive any suggestion. The officer commanding the Engineers proposed mining, which was attempted; but the fuse was damp, and refused to explode. The Engineers then advanced under cover, and effected a breach in the wall. On perceiving that their position was no longer tenable, the Maoris hoisted a white flag, and surrendered at dawn. William Thompson, the great chief of the rebellion, had escaped, with most of his followers: only 183 prisoners fell into our hands. They could easily have escaped if they had chosen, but they had waited on in the hope of being reinforced. The loss of the Maoris was about forty-five killed, while ours amounted to six officers killed or died of wounds, and nine wounded; forty men killed, and eighty wounded. The attacking force amounted to 1000 men; about one-seventh of them were killed or wounded; the defenders of the pa could not have amounted to more than four or five hundred men; forty-five were killed on the spot; the wounded were carried off.

One or two steamers were placed on the Waikato river, and our troops advanced to Ngaruawahia, the royal residence of Potatau II., whose palace of reeds may still be seen there. This town is situated about twenty-six miles to the south of Rangiriri, at the confluence of the Waipa and the Horatiu, whose united waters form the Waikato river. The governor had promised to meet W. Thompson, the Maori king-maker, here, and to settle the conditions of peace; but for reasons unknown to us he failed to appear, and our troops pushed on till they reached Piko Piko, a strong pa on the summit of a hill overlooking the Waipa, about thirty miles to the south of Ngaruawahia. We remained encamped opposite this stronghold for three weeks without attempting an assault; our experience at Rangiriri had taught us to be cautious. We had 3900 men under canvas; the defenders of the pa could not have exceeded one-fourth of that number; but, notwithstanding this disproportion, no attempt was made to dislodge the enemy. At the end of three weeks we turned their position, and advanced to the villages of Awamutu and Kilu Kilu, from which they derived their supplies; on this they were obliged to evacuate their stronghold and retreat into the interior. A skirmish took place at Rangiawahia, a native village three miles from Awamutu, during which a venerable Maori lady distinguished herself by coolly occupying a chair in her verandah, and firing deliberately on our men, who retaliated by burning down a native wharze, or hut, which contained some warriors who refused to surrender, and were consumed in the flames. We then constructed a line of redoubts, extending from Maugautautari, a stronghold on the Horatiu, which W. Thompson had evacuated, to Te Rori on the Waipa, for the purpose of keeping the enemy in check. This was not so easily done as we imagined. In March some three hundred natives advanced to Ohapau, a village five miles from Awamutu, and began to construct a pa in the midst of a grove of peach-trees. It was captured on the 2nd of April, but Rewi, the ringleader, escaped.

On the 30th of March the incident occurred which procured for Lieutenant-Colonel McNeill the honour of the Victoria Cross. He holds the appointment of aide-de-camp to General Cameron, who was then at Pukerimu, and had occasion to communicate with Brigadier Carey, who was in command at Awamutu. The distance from Pukerimu to Awamutu is eighteen miles; midway between these two stations stands the redoubt of Ohapau, occupied by a detachment of the 40th Regiment. Rough bridges have been erected at the different creeks, but there is no regular road, merely a native path leading through the bush. Near Ohapau is a clump of trees admirably adapted for an ambuscade. Lieutenant-Colonel McNeill had no other escort than a private of the Defence Force (a colonial corps consisting of 250 troopers) of the name of Vosper, who acted as his orderly. Nothing remarkable occurred during the journey till they had occasion to pass the clump of trees near Ohapau, when a party of insurgents opened fire upon them. Private Vosper was thrown from his horse, and Lieutenant-Colonel McNeill succeeded in catching him. Vosper then remounted, and both rode off. The fire of the Maoris is said to have been very close and very severe; under such circumstances the escape of the horses and riders without being grazed by a single bullet is little short of miraculous. It is unfortunate, perhaps, that there were no other spectators of the scene than the immediate actors. Private Vosper has to vouch for the gallantry of Lieutenant-Colonel McNeill, and Lieutenant-Colonel McNeill for the danger incurred by Private Vosper. When the affair was reported to General Cameron, he recommended his aide-de-camp for the decoration of the Cross of Valour; and he was duly invested with it on the 6th of December, in the presence of all the troops that could be assembled to witness this interesting ceremony.

Lieutenant-Colonel McNeill is a good and gallant soldier; he proved himself to be so during the Indian campaign, when he served on the staff of Sir Edward Lugard, and was honourably mentioned in public despatches. It is right that these services should be known to the public, as they have contributed to procure for him the honour of the Victoria Cross, the wearer of which, like Cæsar’s wife, should be beyond suspicion. We should be glad to see some public recognition of the bravery displayed by a sergeant of one of the colonial corps near the same spot, five days before Lieutenant-Colonel McNeill and his orderly were attacked. On the 25th of March this sergeant had left Pukerimu in company with a civilian who had been visiting his brother there, and was now on his way to Awamutu. Both were well mounted, and nothing remarkable occurred till they were within four miles of the camp, where the road passes near the first of the lakes lying between Ohapau and Te Rori. The two horsemen were riding quietly along, thoughtless of danger, when an ambuscade of some thirty or forty Maoris opened fire upon them from the bush; the sergeant felt that his horse was hit, and spurred him on with all his might, in the hope that he might still be able to carry him beyond the reach of danger. On the first impulse of the moment he had thought only of his own safety; but he had only proceeded a short distance when he became anxious for the fate of his companion. On turning round, he saw his horse lying dead on the road: in another minute the civilian would have been lifeless beside him. He was rushing along with all his might, pursued by a Maori, who was rapidly gaining upon him, and had already poised his spear to strike. The sergeant wheeled his horse round, and with the rapidity of thought rushed to the rescue. One shot from his revolver laid the Maori prostrate; in another minute the civilian was mounted behind him, and then away for their lives. The noble horse seemed to know what results depended on his speed, for, though wounded and weak from the loss of blood, he never halted till he reached the rising ground that overlooks Awamutu, when he fell down dead. He had carried them three miles with seven bullets in his body, till they were beyond the reach of the Maori rifles. When the danger was past he lay down and died. The incident created much sensation at the moment. The sergeant’s coolness and courage excited the admiration of the whole camp; but many months have passed away without bringing with them any public recognition of his heroism. This, doubtless, has arisen from oversight. We shall be much gratified if our present remarks lead to further inquiries being made. Civilians have obtained the Victoria Cross in India; there is no reason why it should not be bestowed on those who are equally worthy in New Zealand.

Our readers are already familiar with the attack on the Gate Pa at Tauranga, on the 29th of April, when our soldiers and sailors, after effecting an entrance into the Maori stronghold, were seized with a sudden panic, and retreated in the greatest disorder. It is rare indeed for our soldiers or sailors to desert their officers in the hour of danger; but on this occasion terror was more powerful than the sense of duty. It was not so with all, however; there were one or two honourable exceptions. When Commander Hay fell mortally wounded inside the pa, one gallant sailor stood by him, and refused to leave him, though frequently urged to do so. It was right that such an act of distinguished devotion to duty should be recognised as an encouragement to others to imitate his example, and Samuel Mitchell now carries on his breast the Cross of Valour as a memorial of the humanity and courage he displayed at the Gate Pa. On the same occasion, Assistant-Surgeon Manley, of the Royal Artillery, distinguished himself by exposing his life to great danger in entering the pa with the generous intention of offering assistance to Commander Hay. That unfortunate officer was beyond the reach of human aid, but this detracts nothing from the praise due to Assistant-Surgeon Manley, who remained with him to the last, and did all that human skill could suggest to alleviate his sufferings. Nor was this all; on learning, after his return to the camp, that there were other wounded officers in the pa who might require his aid, he offered to proceed to their assistance. To have done so would have been to expose his life to certain destruction, as the insurgents had now resumed possession of their stronghold; the service cannot afford to lose such men as Assistant-Surgeon Manley. While this generous offer was refused, it was felt that he had already made good his title to the distinction of the Victoria Cross, which has now been conferred upon him. Assistant-Surgeons Temple and Manley belong to the same branch of the service, and it is honourable to the medical profession that two of its members should have attained to the same distinction in the course of one year.

While the province of Auckland has been the principal seat of the present campaign, a sort of desultory warfare has been carried on at the same time in the district of Taranaki, where the 57th Regiment is stationed. This district, which has been often described as the garden of New Zealand, extends along the western coast of the North Island; its capital, New Plymouth, is situated at the base of Mount Egmont, a solitary, snow-capped mountain, about 10,000 feet high, rising out of a densely-wooded plain. There is no harbour, and the loud roar of the waves breaking on the inhospitable shore is constantly to be heard. An English settlement was formed there in 1841, but at this time there were only ninety natives, living for security in the cliffs around Mount Egmont, or in holes among the sugar-loaf rocks; the rest had fled to Cook’s Straits or been carried off into captivity. The whole district was a waste, and Governor Hobson bought for 400l. the right which Te Whero Whero, a native chief, had acquired over it in virtue of conquest; after it had passed into our hands the fugitives began to return, and nothing could equal their surprise on finding their lands parcelled out among strangers. Twisting their long arms round the gigantic trees, which had long been tapu or sacred, they besought the woodmen to spare them; their spirit was broken by conquest; as yet they offered no open resistance. It was only when our arms had suffered reverses in other parts of the island that the natives of Taranaki began to show a more independent spirit, and to reclaim the lands which had now passed from their hands. The matter was referred to Governor Fitzroy, who decided that the settlers were only entitled to 3500 of the 60,000 acres to which they laid claim; the natives resumed possession of the rest. This decision increased the bitterness of feeling which had already sprung up between the two races, and has been the cause of all the subsequent disturbances at Taranaki. The settlers are anxious to purchase, but the natives refuse to part with their lands. “Money,” they say, “soon melts away, but the land remains.” In order to preserve and sustain this conservative feeling, they formed themselves into the Anti-Land-Selling League, the nature of which may be learned from its title, and absolutely refused to part with a single acre. The war of 1860-2 and 1863-4, which is not yet over, originated from an attempt on the part of the Colonial Government to suppress this league by purchasing lands from any of the natives who were disposed to part with them. If these purchases had been confined to the actual possessors of the soil no objection could have been made to them, every man having a right to do what he likes with his own, but no man has a right to sell what belongs to his neighbours. This was actually done at Taranaki, and unfortunately the Government, in order to assert a principle, took possession by force of the land thus purchased. This brought the two races into immediate collision, and the war has been lingering on for years. It would be foreign to our purpose to describe its leading events; it is sufficient to remark that it has been carried on with various success, and that the 57th Regiment, under the command of Colonel Warre, C.B., has taken an active part in the Taranaki campaign. An engagement took place at Poutoko on the 2nd of October, 1863, during which Ensign Down and Drummer Stagpoole, of the 57th Regiment, distinguished themselves by carrying off two wounded men who would otherwise have fallen into the hands of the enemy. Stagpoole had already attracted the notice of his commanding officer by volunteering to rescue a wounded soldier on a previous occasion, and the announcement in the London Gazette that he and Ensign Down have had the Cross of Valour awarded to them has given general satisfaction in New Zealand. Courage is not the exclusive property of any one class; it is to be found among all ranks in our army and navy; it is right, therefore, that that Cross, which is intended expressly to be the reward of courage, should be bestowed impartially upon every one who has made good his claim, whether he bear her Majesty’s commission or be merely a drummer-boy. Chivalry admitted none to its ranks save those who were of noble birth, but many of the most chivalrous deeds of modern times have been done by men who have no claim to illustrious descent, and owe everything to themselves. The Cross of Valour is a standing recognition of this fact; it is far more precious than garters and ribbons, or the other gewgaws of rank; it is the special reward of the brave, and none but the brave deserve to wear it.

Peace will never be established on a solid basis in New Zealand till the settlers and aborigines have learned to treat one another with more respect. At present they regard one another with mingled feelings of hatred and contempt. The Englishman thinks that he has a right to despise brown-skinned men who were once cannibals, who know nothing about title-deeds, live in dog-kennels, feed on fern-roots and putrid fish, and render their faces hideous by tattooing. He hates them as the only obstacle between himself and those valuable lands with which they refuse to part; he is tempted to believe that the only way to pacify New Zealand is not to leave a single Maori alive. “The black fellows,” or “niggers,” as they are contemptuously called, conscious of the existence of these feelings, are ready enough to retaliate. They have the firmest belief in their own superior courage. “You white people,” said a native chief, “are very good for building houses and ships, for buying and selling, for making cattle fat, and for growing beans and cabbages; you are like the rats, always at work; but as to fighting, you are like them also, you only know how to run.”