Old white man of the day

Souda Bay, Crete

Today our focus is not on “old” or “white” or even, necessarily, “men”.  Today we remember those who never had the opportunity to grow old.

We honour those men and women of all races who fought and died under the New Zealand colours to defend freedom and the Judeo-Christian western values we treasure.

Those who may have gone on to achieve great things, those who may have, one day, featured in this series.  But they never came home; they achieved greatness where they fell, defending our freedom in countries far from home. And now they rest in “some corner of a foreign field, that is forever” New Zealand.

They were, as D.Dave said on Backchat last week,

“[…] all those young white men who went off to war, to defend our way of life, and the freedoms it brings to each and everyone of us. Ironically, it is those freedoms that have allowed Julie Anne Genter to slag off the children of those same men. She should hang her head in shame, as should Susan Devoy for not calling her to task. We remember them, on ANZAC Day […] when we should honour them every time Parliament sits.”

As the verses penned by Robert Laurence Binyon in  For the Fallen so eloquently remind us, they will not grow old:

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

What would they feel about the current abuses of the freedoms that they fought and died for?

How would they feel about the silent invasion by the enemy that is currently promoted by Western governments all around the world?  Back then their responses would not have been politically correct, they would have robustly voiced their disgust at finding that their sacrifice may have been in vain. The enemy of our western values has simply played a waiting game until our current leaders capitulated to “diversity”, “inclusivity” and “tolerance” and put out the welcome mat for those who despise all that our ANZAC heroes fought and died for.

While we are enjoined to obey those in authority, we do not have to respect them. Respect and honour is earned and those we remember today paid the ultimate sacrifice for our honour and respect.

A poem inspired by the Commonwealth War Graves cemetery at Souda Bay, Crete. Quote:

Men, in khaki dressed.
Twenty columns, twenty rows; a rose between the headstones grows
Rank and file, creed and race, all are gathered in this place
Now all here is neat and ordered, not so then, for the war dead
Cretan soil their final rest; four hundred men in khaki dressed.

New Zealand’s shores they’ll never reach; Souda Bay, their nearest beach
May ’41, the leaders knew, the date their foe’s arrival’s due
Enigma signals told it all, but Freyberg had to hold the call
Strategy, played close-to-chest, doomed these men in khaki dressed.

Brothers, uncles, fathers, sons: family heroes every one
Heard the call their country made; great the price that many paid
Now that generation’s passed and we – wander on this grass by sea
And in our freedom feel so blessed, by all the men in khaki dressed.


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In solidarity with the those in the world’s most despised demographic, WH has decided to ‘come out’ as an old white male. WH enjoys exercising the white-male privilege that Whaleoil provides for him by writing the occasional post challenging climate change consensus; looking at random tech issues that tweak his interest, as a bit of a tech nerd; or generally poking the borax at anyone in public life who goes on record revealing their stupidity. WH never excelled on the sports field because his coaches never allowed him to play in his preferred position on the right-wing. WH also enjoys his MG.

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