“I was with the mounted portion of the force, and the first day out the column had marched fifteen miles when it was halted, early in the afternoon, to pitch camp. The Adjutant-General, Johnston, had picked out a site at Nukumaru. My O.C., an old hand, who knew the country well (I was acting as his orderly) rode up to the staff. ‘General,’ said he, ‘don’t you think we are rather too near the bush, especially as that long Toe-toe grass grows right up to the tents, and we are only five miles distant from the Weraroa pah, the principal stronghold of the enemy.’ ‘Pooh, pooh, Major,’ answered the General, ‘do you imagine, sir, for one moment, that any body of natives would dare to attack two thousand of H.M. troops?’ ‘Yes, sir,’ said the Major, ‘fifty Maoris are quite capable of doing so.’ But it was no good talking, so we rode away to our lines. ‘Keep your horses saddled, boys,’ said the Major, ‘we may be wanted any moment,’ and we did so. “Well, sir, the troops had just finished pitching the tents when rip comes a volley from the Toe-toe grass. Over rolled Adjutant-General Johnston and sixteen men dead, and there was hell to pay: men rushing to the piles of arms, bugles blowing and officers shouting contradictory orders, while the natives continued blazing into the camp, some of them even rushing in with their tomahawks, one of them being killed within twenty yards of the General’s own tent. “At the first shot our O.C. had yelled out ‘Mount,’ and as we were standing to our horses we were on them in a moment. ‘Charge,’ sings out the O.C., and we charged through the long grass right into the middle of the Hau Haus, there not being more than fifty of them all told. Maoris won’t stand mounted men, so we swept them back to the bush, killing a good lot. On our return to camp we found all the soldiers standing in rows, looking very pretty, and the General very angry, declaring it was not warfare for fifty savages to attack two thousand British troops. “Now the General ought to have learned something from that lesson, but he didn’t, for next night, a gale of wind blowing, the column was halted to bivouac in long dry fern. Fine beds for tired men long dry fern makes, provided there is not a gale of wind blowing and the Hau Haus are not hostile, but on this occasion such was the case, and we were roused out by shots and bugle calls to see a wall of fire, twenty feet high, charging us faster than a horse can gallop. Gad, sir, it was a case of _sauve qui peut_, and we all bolted for the sand-hills like redshanks, the Maoris tomahawking five of the 18th R.I. picket and a lot of others. This last affair so disgusted the General that he refused to leave the beach, and, without making another attempt of any sort, consumed fifty-seven days to march fifty-four miles, while the Maoris, only a handful in number, used to chaff us and called the General the lame seagull.