A poem by J.G. Johnson - who was there (Written in 1942)
Garfield (J.G.) Johnson wrote: "As for my poem "Minqar Qaim" it was written in the heroic style of Tennyson and Newbold with which I had grown up, at school. It was, of course, a dirty rotten battle as they all were. Nevertheless, I do not think most New Zealanders realise how much was at stake that day. Had the breakthrough not happened, it would be a different New Zealand today."
The only copy of this poem that survived the war was a carbon copy possibly of the original that J. W. (Johnnie) Johnston carried around Italy and brough back to New Zealand after the war. He read parts of the poem in school Anzac Day assemblies. The poem is in the collection "Recollections and Reflections" by Garfield Johnson.
They were resting in the valley where the stormy kings of old
Swept like a mountain torrent with their legion hosts of gold
Onwards to Israel and the granaries of Egypt.
Time after time in Libya, Greece and Crete
Had these denied the way to the might of conquering glories,
These, who had fought with the shades of Olympian stories
And had slaughtered from the olive groves the terror from the skies;
Who had known the Desert Ridge where the Sulton's tombstone lies,
Were young men from New Zealand, still with laughter in their eyes.
They were resting in the valley under a drowsy summer sky,
When "In to Action ! In to Action! Back to Egypt!" came the cry.
"Take up your arms! Take up your arms! Farewell this transient peace
For the Hun has broken through there as he did in Crete and Greece."
Before the next dawn flushed the long, long columns started
To rumble down the highways, where a populace in awe
Glazed on guns and limbers, tanks and tractors, forming by the score,
A clanking, onward moving, modern caravan of war.
Climbing over mountain peaks and skirting Arab towns,
Snaking onward, ever onward, over Palestinian downs.
Pushing southward, ever southward, out of sunny Palestine
For there was purpose in the hearsts of these warriors of the line.
Nor heeding the hot challenge which sandy Sinai flings
They swept on through the valley of the Pharoahs and the Kings;
Then back onto the old road, the long road and the weary.
Back to the desert with its prospect grim and dreary.
A journey taking six days had taken them two.
When the tired columns made their halt by the seaside of Matrah,
Where the queenly Cleopatra and her gorgeous retinue
Awaited the Roman, Antony, and daliance anew,
These weary columns halted and made themselves a brew
And waited for the battle and the Germans to come through.
So they took up their position, alone and to delay
And hold the swarming Heinie hosts at desparate frantic bay.
Till the reeling battered British, retreating in dismay,
Could re-equip and organise to return to the affray.
Alone and unattended, the khamseen wind unfurled
The Star Cross of New Zealand, youngest nation of the world.
And they counted not the odds, though they numbered five to one,
Nor the soul destroying fury of the burning sand and sun.
Young in heart and high in courage, they flung their gallant line
And they heeded not the flying death, the bomb and shrapnel whine,
Nor the probing tracer bullet with its comet tail ashine,
They stood their ground, their faces wet with sweat's hot salty brine.
Action left! The tanks are coming! It's action Right and Rear!
Their fighting guns kept firing at the armour lumbering near,
Till the Hun reeled back in wonder, his Panzers could not take
The spitting bloody venom of the square that did not break.
But he was round them and he had them - so his jeering spokesman said,
On the morrow, in their thousands, they'll be captured, maimed and dead.
But that night they broke to freedom in a wild gay charge that came
As a challenge to Blaclava in the honoured halls of fame
And with honour and with glory, these tired ten thousand men
Still stained with the grime of battle, turned and fought again.
In the heart of all New Zealand, to be honoured for all time
With Suda Bay and Anzac day stands the name of Minqar Qaim.
This page is in memory of Garfield Johnson, Keith Shaw, and Johnnie Johnston: like many others, these three friends returned from the war and made the education system work in the interests of children. They all fought in Italy and became school principals in Auckland.
