NZNAM is for New Zealand's National Army Museum - Dioramas

This is the first post in a contribution day, Brian Berke, of New York, a regular contributor to the Blog, sent these just before I stopped posting for family reasons, so they have been sitting here for a while, despite being meant - in part - as a follow-up to the contributions from Glenn Sibald back in Jan/Feb; there's four of them, so today, we rather hand over to Mr. B!

The first post looks at two beautifully modelled diorama's one credited to a Tim Ryan (1980) and the uniforms/paint-work of the other looks similar, so I suspect he did both.

First you have to find those recalcitrant native citizens who have shown so unwilling to subjugate themselves to the Great White Queen's Blue (?) Jackets! This requires going a' campaigning; a tedious business which involves yomping, tabbing, marching and wandering about in the uloo, bondu, sticks or boondocks, basically going for an organised walk in the woods - well; a disciplined camping holiday . . . with the odd ambush!

This is a lovely model, the greenery is superb, I feel there's probably a kakapo or two in there somewhere, watching, curiously! 'What are the pink-monkeys doing now?'

In the rear of the column is a GS (General Service) Wagon, this carries all the 'camping equipment', which often makes it a target for some of those pesky ambushes; as 'Tommy' likes his creature-comforts, he's quite keen to hang back and guard it! While the Maori are just as keen to separate him from any comforts!

"Why are you men falling behind Corporal?"

"Guarding the wagon Sir!"

"Oh, Yes! Very-good; carry-on!"

Officers like their creature-comforts too!

I tried to collage the two to give a better impression of the whole, if I lined the kneeling sentry up the horses were tailless, so this is the best compromise! It really is a lovely diorama, well laid-out and with lots happening, yet without it being too busy.

Once you've found the Pā or fortified village, there's nothing for it but a full-frontal assault to force the palisade and gain entry to the entrenchments, easier in those [claimed for the Great White Queen] countries where the locals hadn't provisioned themselves with modern firearms! Consequently; Afghanistan and New Zealand proved to be tougher nuts than others!

This is also a superb example of how adding uniform-equipment and headdresses and giving all the figures a matching paint-job can bring disparate figures together as a homogenous unit, in the centre I can see a Timpo-solid stabbing downward (Imperial Guard or 8th army?) along with Herald, Deetail and Timpo-solid ACW's! And is the being-shot-guy at the back a Lone Star Russian?

Another Herald ACW instantly recognisable here with 'multi-pose' kits in the foreground, but Napoleonic or FFL? The loader two is familiar (far left, I'm not sure they were still using ramrods in the Maori Wars, but the atmosphere is there - maybe he's clearing a stoppage!) however, is he Deetail or Airfix? Again, at the risk of repeating myself; the use of all these figures is both intriguing and instructional as to the secrets of the dioramists' arts - a few added items of similar accoutrement, straps and a matching paint-job (not to forget the headdresses) bring them all together beautifully.

The sense of chaos in the moment, yet of organised urgency in the face of opposition (on both sides) is got-across magnificently and this model is a joy to behold; It may have been an act of attempted genocide, or at the very-least; misguided dogma and doctrine on the part of the incomers, the 'illegal immigrants' and their 'state', or - on the other hand - an act of 'futile', too-late resistance or rebellion by the locals, but (as the late David Bowie put it) each man can be a hero, just for one day.

Can you hear the splintering of dry sappling-wood under the weight of rushing (or falling) bodies . . . the screams of the wounded and dying, the manic yells of frightened men, the shouted orders of command or warning, all over the cacophony of firearms, and - out of shot - artillery . . . can you smell the cloying, devil's breath of cordite, dust, fresh blood and fear, burning the nostrils?

Thank you Mr. Berke. It was a rare treat to find these in my inbox . . . and - quite by accident - due to the contributions of Glenn and yourself; 2019 seems to have become 'New Zealand Year' here at SSW!