On the peninsula of Te Papa, in the Poverty Bay district of East Auckland, the Maoris had entrenched themselves in a very strong position. They had built a long stockade along the narrow strip of land connecting the peninsula with the coast, at Tauranga, with rifle-pits extending almost the whole length. This formidable fort was known as the Gate Pah, because it commanded the entrance to that region. The natives chose the place for their stronghold wisely. The Gate Pah was guarded by great swamps on both sides, which rendered a flank attack impossible. The assault must come either from the front or rear. Fully alive to the difficulties of the task, General Cameron proceeded to attack this position on April 28th with a force of infantry (the 68th and 43rd Regiments) and two hundred seamen from the warships off the coast. While some of the Naval Brigade and the 68th Regiment (the Durham Light Infantry) stole round at night to the rear of the stockade, the artillery the next morning opened fire in front, pouring shot and shell unceasingly for eight and a half hours into the pah. The Maoris responded at first with a brisk rifle-fire, but after a time this stopped. Dead silence reigned over the stockade, as if most of its inmates had been killed. Believing this to be the case, the 43rd Foot (the Oxfordshire Light Infantry, known popularly as “the Light Bobs” and “the Fighting Forty-third”) moved forward with a number of bluejackets to carry the place by storm. That the fight was practically over seemed evident from the ease with which the troops drove out the few Maoris remaining in the pah. But the wily natives had laid a subtle ambush, to the success of which a regrettable accident contributed. As the Oxfordshires and the naval men followed up the pursuit in the gathering darkness, the detachment sent previously to the rear began firing into the medley of Maoris and British. Considerable confusion was caused, and both the 43rd and the sailors were ordered to retire. This was done promptly, the troops regaining the shelter of the stockade. Here they had no fear of danger, for the place was apparently deserted, and only the fugitive Maoris, who had rallied, menaced them. They wandered about the pah in careless disorder, some even laying aside their rifles, when suddenly from the ground beneath them a whole host of native warriors appeared, rising like apparitions in their midst. In cunningly concealed holes and rifle-pits, covered over with branches and pieces of turf, the Maoris had awaited the coming of the _pakehas_. Before this mysterious ghostly enemy, who fell upon them with rifle and war-club, the soldiers and sailors fled in wild confusion. A perfect panic set in, and every man sought to save his own skin.