David Straight

Known unto God

The return of the unknown warrior

Written by       Photographed by David Straight

As the cortege travelled from Rongotai to Parliament, many people, including schoolchildren, lined the streets along the route. The Warrior was driven by hearse, with an escort of military and police vehicles. A veteran of El Alamein, Alan Johnston, talks emotionally of his thoughts at the moment he saw the Unknown Warrior appear.
As the cortege travelled from Rongotai to Parliament, many people, including schoolchildren, lined the streets along the route. The Warrior was driven by hearse, with an escort of military and police vehicles. A veteran of El Alamein, Alan Johnston, talks emotionally of his thoughts at the moment he saw the Unknown Warrior appear.
On the morning of November 11, 2004, having lain in state in Parliamentʼs Legislative Council Chamber since 2 p.m. the previous day, the Unknown
Warrior was carried down the steps of Parliament to the nearby Wellington Cathedral of St Paul for a memorial service. During his 20-hour sojourn, a military vigil kept close guard as dignitaries and thousands of members of the public paid their respects through the afternoon and into the night. For a few hours his tomb lay open to view.
Warrior was carried down the steps of Parliament to the nearby Wellington Cathedral of St Paul for a memorial service. During his 20-hour sojourn, a military vigil kept close guard as dignitaries and thousands of members of the public paid their respects through the afternoon and into the night. For a few hours his tomb lay open to view.
On the afternoon of November 11, the tomb was closed and a last blessing bestowed. Servicemen keeping the final vigil, on station at the four corners of the tomb, await the order to stand down.
On the afternoon of November 11, the tomb was closed and a last blessing bestowed. Servicemen keeping the final vigil, on station at the four corners of the tomb, await the order to stand down.

It is hard to comprehend the overwhelming emotion that surrounds the passage of this unknown soldier. As the bearers of this warrior file past me, I pull back from my viewfinder and lens, engulfed by respect and the weight of the moment. I have no understanding of the events that surrounded the death of this or any other soldier except for what I have gleaned from film and literature. Death in or near the trenches of France almost 90 years ago is too far beyond my experience for me to comprehend, but for this brief moment, as the casket moves past just an arm’s length away, I am lost in the tragedy of this man’s history.

The two days that marked the return of the warrior were steeped in military decorum and honour. The presence of the Defence Force was intense, as were the pride and reverence visible on the faces of the hundreds of soldiers, sailors airmen and the thousands of ordinary New Zealanders who participated.

It remains pertinent in a time when war is as prevalent and relentless as ever to remember those whose lives it has cut short. And the crowds remembered as they lined the streets, as the cortege slowly and solemnly passed. They remem­bered as they quietly filed through Parliament, and as they laid poppies on the casket as our Unknown Warrior waited to be entombed in his new and grand setting. He was back home in the land he had sprung from. “Now and forever, home is good”, as the closing line of Vincent O’Sullivan’s specially commissioned poem proclaims.

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