Obituaries — Sir Robert Gillies KNZM, affectionately known to all and sundry as “Bom”, the last surviving member of the 28th Māori Battalion, and extend its sincere condolences to his whānau and the wider community.
The question is that the motion be agreed to.
Tomo mai e tama mā ki roto
I ngā ringa kua tuwhera atu nei
Ki ngā mōrehu o te Kiwi e
Ki ngā tama toa o tēnei riri nui
[Come in, young men, into
These outstretched arms
To the survivors of the New Zealand contingent
To the brave sons of this great war]
E te tipua o ngā tama toa o Aotearoa, e Tā Robert “Bom” Gillies, koinei te waiata i te wā i hoki mai koutou i te Pakanga Nui o te Ao.
[To the champion of the brave boys of Aotearoa, Sir Robert “Bom” Gillies, this is the song at the time that you all returned from World War I.]
It’s indeed my honour to stand on behalf of the Labour Party to pay tribute to Tā Robert “Bom” Gillies. Our generation are blessed to have experienced the reserved heroism of our Māori Battalion—a rōpū who have become synonymous with pride, purpose, and courage instilled in whakapapa across Aotearoa. Though reluctantly, Tā Bom took the responsibility of being the last man standing seriously. The uri of Ngāti Kahungunu and Te Arawa, who went to war as a very young man, left us life lessons extremely pertinent today. He spoke out against the perils of war: “Karekau he take o te pakanga. Pakanga, pakanga, pakanga. Kei te haere tonu. Karekau he rongo, moumou tāngata.”—“There’s no point to fighting. Fighting, battles, war. It still carries on. There’s no peace, it is a waste of human life.”
Tā Bom rose from the rank of private to being the last bastion of an entity dear to all our hearts, demonstrating that, when called upon, we can all rise to meet the needs of our generation. A lesson—again, I repeat—so pertinent in this very time.
Kei te tautoko anō awau i ngā mihi a te Minita Penk ki a ia, me te whānau e noho pani ana i tēnei wā.
[I support the acknowledgments made by Minister Penk to him, and the family, who have been bereft at this time.]
Heoi anō, Tā Bom, we will enjoy a rum coffee for you and all your mates at the next Anzac Day. When you were last together, you said, “Last man standing, turn out the lights.” E te iwi whānui, he rangi pōuri rawa atu. Kua kāpō ngā raiti.
[To the wider people, this is a very sad day. The lights have gone out.]
Kei te kapakapa mai te haki, te haki
O Ingarangi runga o Tiamana e
[Flying is the flag, the flag
Of England over Germany.]
Tēnā rawa atu tātou.
[Many thanks to us all.]
Thank you, Mr Speaker. Ko te kupu te kupu, ko te Atua te Atua. Ko Ranginui ki runga, ko Papatūānuku ki raro, ka mate ai te tangata. Ka pō, ka ao, ka awatea. Mauri ora.
[The word is the word, God is God. As Ranginui is above, so Papatūānuku below, as inevitable as people will pass away. From the darkness, dawn breaks, the day is born. Wellbeing to all.]
Today, I rise on behalf of the Green Party of Aotearoa to honour the life and service of Tā Robert Gillies—Tā “Bom”. Tā Bom was the last standing member of the Māori Battalion, who not only fought for our country but also for his brothers, the servicemen who returned from war, so that they would be treated with the dignity and respect that they deserved, not as second-class citizens. Young Māori men grew up with the struggles that colonisation inflicts—poverty, and the dispossession of culture and land and mātauranga—but having that deep connection to Aotearoa, to te ao Māori, and to our whenua. Tā was relentless, over his life, in the pursuit of justice for all the soldiers from the Māori Battalion. The act of raising the battalion was seen as an offering and a chance for young Māori to prove the worth of Māoridom and to secure the long-term goal of Māori autonomy—things that are really relevant today.
Born in Hawke’s Bay on 14 February 1925—meaning he was 99 years old at his death—to pāpā Ture Gillies, Ngāti Kahungunu; and to his māmā, Maata Horomona, from Te Arawa. The whānau then moved to Rotorua, where Tā Bom attended school and was raised.
At only 17, Tā Bom successfully enlisted in the 28th Māori Battalion going to World War II. This was actually his third attempt to enlist and he was only successful after giving a false date of birth. This showed his complete passion and dedication to Aotearoa and to the service to the country that he called home.
Now, I have a 17-year-old son and it really brings home for me the mana and kaha of Tā, but also his whānau, to literally go, at 17, and put yourself in the firing line. That is something that I think the young people and all of us here can hold on to and really see Tā Bom as that tōtara tree. The tōtara is our tallest tree and we can look up to Tā Bom and so can our tamariki. When I think of those attributes, I know my son and other rangatahi can look to them for guidance. It makes me feel calm and it makes me feel tau that we have such an amazing pillar to look to for our future, because it is our past and our present that informs the future, and I want all of the tamariki and rangatahi of Aotearoa to have everything that is their birthright, living in Aotearoa New Zealand.
Tā Bom exemplified the humility and kaha of the 28th Māori Battalion. Now, he was the last surviving member, and, actually, in 2022, he was finally honoured with a knighthood. This is something that he had actually turned down multiple times before this. That just shows that he was here to do the mahi; he didn’t need the credit. He was happy to just see the work happen and for the changes to happen within our society, but when he did accept it, he said that this honour of a knighthood was on behalf of all the men and women he served, showing again that deep humility that he had.
Over his lifetime, he came back and represented the Māori Battalion around Aotearoa New Zealand as well as the world. He was able to take those values that he had lived by and then bring the Wai 2500 claim to the Waitangi Tribunal. That was for the military veterans inquiry of the Waitangi Tribunal to explore the treatment of our Māori soldiers. I would put a wero to the House: has anything changed, have we done well enough, and will New Zealand honour us in our service? That is the wero—for all of those soldiers who fought so hard for us and then came back to be second-class citizens. Our legacy will be honouring Tā Bom’s Wai claim, and I look forward to seeing how that progresses.
Tā Bom was about the mahi and the kaupapa and the dedication that our soldiers had to ensure that Māori and te ao Māori and our mātauranga Māori had a place in protecting New Zealand and te ao Māori. Tā Bom over this last week was laid to rest at Te in Ōhinemutu in Rotorua. It has been an emotional week—not being able to be there but seeing the footage coming through and the words of so many New Zealanders. I think that the kōrero went on to about 3 a.m., and all of the speakers talked of his humility, his strength, and how we can look to Tā Bom in the future for ourselves and for every other generation. In fact, his grandson noted that people thought of him as a window to the past, linking them to their own koros and nannies, and it is so important that we recognise that whakapapa because it is our tīpuna that give us strength. We can look to them to learn the ways that they did things and also the way that they improved and empowered other people around them so that we can look to our tīpuna in the future and give us that strength. Really, that is what I want all of our rangatahi to think, including my own children.
I do want to take a moment to reflect on the hīkoi activations across the motu this week, where tens of thousands are marching to Pāremata in a peaceful protest—
SPEAKER: No, I think that steps well outside the motion. The member will resume her seat—the member will resume her seat.
I couldn’t be prouder to be part of this day. Tā Robert “Bom” was an amazing human being. The final tōtara of the great 28th Māori Battalion has been laid to rest with the grandeur he so desperately deserved. He has been finally laid to rest with the grandeur that so many of the rangatiratanga he was alongside in the 28th tried so desperately to avoid. He lived his life with a great strength and courage, never wanting to steal the limelight from the achievements of his battalion. He was quoted as saying, “The lowest of the low, a private—that’s me, a non-entity.” He wanted all the honours that were offered to him to go back to his brothers, the men that he fought alongside.
Tā Robert “Bom” Gillies was a national treasure for all of us to celebrate, and he will be greatly missed. He was first awarded the Order of Merit by the Italian Government in 2019, which is our country’s equivalent of a knighthood. He rejected multiple offers of a knighthood here in New Zealand and he was adamant that he would not accept those recognitions for himself. As previously mentioned, he would only accept them for the sacrifices known to all his brothers—those sacrifices made by the men that he served alongside. The Māori Battalion made together those kinds of sacrifices. He served in Northern Africa and Italy during World War II in B Company from 1942 to 1945.
He was a great man, a loving man, a loving husband, and a dedicated koro. He was a living link to our time—a time that, on reflection, we look at the trials and tribulations of connecting all New Zealanders with the difficulty of reconciling what war looked like in their lives. He faced the many challenges when returning home as a vocal advocate for both veterans’ rights and recognition of Māori and the Māori Battalion soldiers. He was the last standing member of the great Māori Battalion. He believed we all had a duty in ensuring the legacy of the Māori Battalion endured, and he will forever be remembered as a taonga, a national treasure.
E kara, e Tā, kua tangi te tētere mutunga mōu. Kua pakū te pū mutunga mōu. Kua rangona te tangi a te rūrū, a te koukou mōu. Hoki ai ki te tini, ki te rahi, ki ngā hoa nā rātou te marae o Tūmatauenga i tū. Ko rātou i kite i te toto e maringi ana. Ko rātou i kite i te taotūtanga. Ko rātou noki i whakamahue i wā rātou hoa ki whenua kē, mokemoke ai, okioki ai.
Nā reira, ngākau nui, whakaiti, hūmārire, tangata ngū. Kua omakia e koe te omanga roa. Kua whawhaitia e koe te whawhai pai. Kua pau tō wā.
Waiho ko tō atarangi hei mātakitaki, hei kōrerotanga mā mātou me ā mātou mokopuna tamariki, kei rite koe ki te rau e puhia ana e te matangi, ka ngaro, ka ngaro. Kahore.
Waiho ko ngā mahi i oti i a koe e rite ki te tauira hei amohanga, hei waha mā ngā uri whakatupu.
Nā reira e moe, e moe, moe oti atu e.
[Dear friend, Sir, the final bugle has sounded for you. The last firearm has been fired for you. The song of the morepork, of the owl, for you has been heard. Return to the many, to the multitudes, to your companions who established the marae of Tūmatauenga. They who saw blood being spilt. They who saw dire injury. And they who left their friends behind in foreign lands, lonely in their resting places.
And so, enthusiastic, humble, gentle, a man of few words. You have run the long run. You have fought the good fight. Your time has expired.
Leave your shadow for us to see, and to speak about with our grandchildren and children so that you are not like a leaf blown by the wind, gone and lost. Never.
Leave your endeavours that you achieved to be like an example to be carried by your descendants.
And so, sleep, rest in peace always.]
I make a few brief remarks to support mostly what has already been said—a man who saw genuine action. A man who never sought to be the last surviving member of that magisterial row of soldiers. A man who said, “I’m only a private. I am no Charles Bennett, leader of the Māori Battalion. I am no Haane Manahi, denied the Victoria Cross despite the best efforts of earlier Governments—both powerful leaders from Te Arawa tribe. I am no Te Okanga Huata. I am no Wī Te Tau Huata, two leading lights of the Ngāti Kahungunu tribe, who saw service during the Second World War.”
So we acknowledge what he represents and he embodied, and we offer prayers and aroha to his whānau as they move forward without the presence of their matua and their tupuna. Tā “Bom”, we Kiwis salute you for the ethic of service that you embodied. Haere atu rā. [Rest in peace.]
Tēnā koe e te Pīka. Te tai rā, e pari ana te tai ki ‘hea? E pari ana te tai he kau’eke, he kaumātua. He tai w’akarewa koe ki te tonga, ki te ao wairua.
Te mōtoi o Ngāti W’akaue me Ngāti Kahungunu, e Tā Robert “Bom” Gillies, e kore e warewaretia, e koro, te mōrehu o te kaitā o Te Hokowhitu Toa.
Ka maumahara tonu tātou ki a rātou.
[Thank you, Mr Speaker. The tide there, the tide rises where? The tide rises, the seniors, the elders. You are a tide that flows to the South, to the spiritual world.
The cherished one of Ngāti W’akaue and Ngāti Kahungunu, Sir Robert “Bom” Gillies, you will not be forgotten, Sir, the survivor of the great Māori Battalion.
We will remember them.]
It’s an honour on behalf of Te Pāti Māori to stand here in recognition of Tā Bom. We hold the 28th Māori Battalion in the absolute highest regard. I tautoko all the mihi, all the wisdom, all the knowledge shared about Tā Bom, but also share and reflect on the unimaginable loss and violence that he witnessed and still returned humble, experienced and lived, and to share that medium on platforms that never existed in his youth. For 82 years, from 17 years to 99, Tā Bom shared with us the humility and the cost of citizenship. He was staunch in fighting and advocating for fairness, for recognition of those he saw fall and those he hasn’t seen yet fall.
Matua Bom—Tā Bom—paid the cost of citizenship. He actually shared recently, “had I known as much as I know now, I would have stayed home. … We lost those fellas for nothing. We’re no better off. We are still fighting for a place in our country.”
I’m a preacher and a supporter of passiveness. It’s a deliberate commitment to entering the battle in a posture of aroha and peace, and it’s my dearest hope that the falling of our Tā, the falling of the last standing soldier, isn’t for nothing, but that we remember our place and the lessons that he shared with everyone—rangatahi, tamariki—and that we work harder in our leadership to pay respect to his legacy and to pay respect to the many 3,600 men who enlisted in the 28th Māori Battalion during World War II. We remember the strength and the resilience of not only them but the loss and the impact on their whānau and their communities, and we work better and harder in valuing the cost of citizenship from the Māori perspective.
We pay homage to those today and we carry the wairua of our tūpuna like Tā Bom, who have paved the way for our mana Motuhake and our absolute desire for kotahitanga, which is what we see in the hīkoi today. Nō reira i te āhuatanga, e te rangatira, e te ika a Whiro o Te Hokowhitu a Tū, e moe, e oki. E te mārire mārie e o te Atua, moe mai.
[And so in this circumstance, noble leader, veteran of the Māori Battalion, sleep well, take your rest. To the truly peaceful one of God, rest in peace.]
Motion agreed to.