There was another significant departure by ship in the Tate family history. Betty’s father, Cyril Tate, fought in the New Zealand army during the Second World War. He left behind Betty and her older brother, who were young children at the time. He would have been excused from war duty due to his young family but choose to go, a common phenomenon for many men when faced with the prospect of wartime duty. Men were swept up in the hope for adventure and the promise of travel. Others were more motivated by patriotic duty.
New Zealand troops leaving for war.
New Zealand became part of World War Two when it declared war on Germany in September 1939. In honour of the “Mother” country, Britain, New Zealand provided men for service in the British Royal Air Force and Royal Navy. In April 1941 New Zealand deployed the 2nd Division to the war. I believe that Cyril was part of the 2nd division that participated in the liberation of Italy, a role that Italy commemorates with ANZAC Day ceremonies every year in Rome on April 25th. The Italian Campaign was challenging due to climatic extremes and mountainous terrain. (credits to the NGA TOA project).
A 1940 poster, signed by Michael Joseph Savage, calling on New Zealanders to support the war effort. Credits to Wikipedia.
New Zealand contributed 140,000 soldiers to the Allied war effort. The war had a high cost on the country, with 11,625 New Zealanders killed, the highest rate in the Commonwealth. (credits to Wikki books). Cyril was fortunate not to be among the deceased and was able to return to his family.
Stories among people often have common elements. My husband's grandfather also choose to enlist in the army, and left behind his wife and two young children. He spent the wartime years in Halifax as a Signal-man, having received the honor of being the only person in Canadian Naval history at the time to receive a 100% on the exam. Due to the high accuracy of his signals he was permanently stationed in the strategic position of the Halifax Harbour. His wife felt very strongly that it was her husband's duty to serve in the war effort. She moved her family in with her in-laws for extra support during those years.
My grandfather also had been exempted from service but choose to enlist and was sent to the foreign shores of Italy and Egypt. We know from historical accounts that the war effort in those countries was horrific with a high mortality. My grandfather never spoke of his service and what it entailed. My grandmother was left to care for their two children and her invalid mother-in-law. She choose to hire a person to care for the family and took her husband's job that he had left. She obtained her truck license which was part of the work requirements, and thus was able to support her family.
The couple wrote each other every day during those war years. There was much to share as they both were embracing new experiences. I was told that my grandmother kept those letters until well after her husband's death at which time she slowly burned them on a little fire she had made at the back of her house. The image of her performing this ritual inspired the following poem:
There comes a time to lay it all to rest,
whatever that may be.
Love, old war wounds, scars,
the bruises and bumps of life.
There is a tidal pull that moves us, gentle but sure.
And so we lay the wood down, pause, add the memory,
ties to the heart, it all goes in.
The heat leaves nothing, each day gone into flames.
Remember when.
And then finished by wind, water, fire.
Best not to leave anything, no words to ponder later.
Yes it does hurt, a gasping rawness of that final farewell.
A wondering, I was all of that?
We were.
I am left.
Stories among people often have common elements. My husband's grandfather also choose to enlist in the army, and left behind his wife and two young children. He spent the wartime years in Halifax as a Signal-man, having received the honor of being the only person in Canadian Naval history at the time to receive a 100% on the exam. Due to the high accuracy of his signals he was permanently stationed in the strategic position of the Halifax Harbour. His wife felt very strongly that it was her husband's duty to serve in the war effort. She moved her family in with her in-laws for extra support during those years.
My grandfather also had been exempted from service but choose to enlist and was sent to the foreign shores of Italy and Egypt. We know from historical accounts that the war effort in those countries was horrific with a high mortality. My grandfather never spoke of his service and what it entailed. My grandmother was left to care for their two children and her invalid mother-in-law. She choose to hire a person to care for the family and took her husband's job that he had left. She obtained her truck license which was part of the work requirements, and thus was able to support her family.
The couple wrote each other every day during those war years. There was much to share as they both were embracing new experiences. I was told that my grandmother kept those letters until well after her husband's death at which time she slowly burned them on a little fire she had made at the back of her house. The image of her performing this ritual inspired the following poem:
There comes a time to lay it all to rest,
whatever that may be.
Love, old war wounds, scars,
the bruises and bumps of life.
There is a tidal pull that moves us, gentle but sure.
And so we lay the wood down, pause, add the memory,
ties to the heart, it all goes in.
The heat leaves nothing, each day gone into flames.
Remember when.
And then finished by wind, water, fire.
Best not to leave anything, no words to ponder later.
Yes it does hurt, a gasping rawness of that final farewell.
A wondering, I was all of that?
We were.
I am left.
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