“Everyone has a story locked away in the depths of their soul - it just has to get out. Here is a story that has been locked away in my heart for a long time and it is now time for this story to be shared.” - Noelene Hughes¹

In 2009, Noelene Hughes (née Stewart) set out on a journey across the world with her son Michael, his wife Janine, and their daughters Keely, Emmason, and Teah. This was the fulfilment of a vow she had made a decade earlier — to visit the grave of her uncle, Private Pareiha Tuati (David Apanui Stewart) (16/123), and honour his service.

Their journey took them from the Sunshine Coast of Australia to the shores of Gallipoli and, finally, to the quiet rows of Portianos Military Cemetery on the Greek island of Lemnos, where David was laid to rest in 1915. Standing before his headstone, Noelene felt the weight of generations carried with her.

“It was such a wonderful feeling for each of us to carefully spread a handful of soil on Pareiha’s grave, mixing the soil from his homeland with the soil of Greece.”²

The Stewart whānau

The Stewart whānau of Thames and Whakatāne descend from Heta Reweti Stewart also known as David Heta (1869-1909) of Ngāti Maru and Emere Rangiteiriao Apanui Stewart (1868-1957) of Ngāti Awa. Their connections extend to Ngāti Maru (Tainui), Ngāti Awa, and Te Whakatōhea.

Heta was remembered as a celebrated rugby player, part of the 1888–89 New Zealand Native football team. Emere, the daughter of Major William Gilbert Mair and Raiha Apanui, carried ties to the Apanui and Mair families of the Eastern Bay of Plenty.

Of these siblings, three served during World War I: David, Matthew, and John. Their stories reflect the varied legacies of that conflict — one never came home, while two returned and rebuilt their lives, though the effects of war remained with them in different ways.

Private Pareiha Tuati (David Apanui Stewart)

In October 1914, at just 19, he enlisted in the 1st New Zealand Māori Contingent. He trained at Avondale Camp and sailed on the Warrimoo in February 1915. A few months later, he landed at Gallipoli.

On 16 August 1915, during fierce fighting, David was mortally wounded in the side and back. He was evacuated to Lemnos but died the same day. He was buried at Portianos Military Cemetery, only 20 years old.

The 2009 Order of Service later recorded:

“Today we mark this spot to remind those who pass this way that he existed — that his life mattered in so many different ways and that above all else he was loved by his family and friends.”⁴

For decades his grave was a distant name, far from home. Noelene’s discovery of his record, under the name Tuati, not Stewart, became a turning point.

“A cousin told me that David had decided to be found, and he had chosen me to find him. I felt deeply honoured and overwhelmed, and I made a silent vow that one day I would visit his grave in Lemnos.”⁵

The pilgrimage to Gallipoli and Lemnos

One of the most moving parts of the journey came when Noelene carried with her one of Matthew’s wartime diaries. Sitting at Anzac Cove, she read aloud passages to her mokopuna.

“[We] sat still and quietly in the darkness, watching the sun peep over the hills. The only sound was the quiet lapping of the water on the shore.”⁶

The diary’s return to Gallipoli was deeply symbolic, a voice from the past brought back to the very place it had been written.

“I phoned Uncle Matt’s granddaughter in New Zealand and shared that special moment, knowing that Uncle Matt’s diary had travelled full circle back to Gallipoli.”⁷

In her account The Lemnos Story, Noelene Hughes recalled preparing for the journey by gathering soil from the family whenua in Whakatāne.

“Knowing we were going to Lemnos I had a strong feeling to go to New Zealand and get some soil from Ma’s property and take it to Lemnos and mix it with the soil of Greece on David’s grave.”⁸

She travelled briefly to Aotearoa to gather soil from the family whenua in Whakatāne and to meet with other members of the Stewart whānau, sharing her plans and gathering their blessings. Family members contributed photographs, prayers, and small taonga for the journey, including painted stones and a greenstone roimata pendant. The taonga were blessed by a kaumātua before Noelene carefully carried them with her on the long journey back to Australia and onward to Greece.

The family then travelled to Lemnos, where they held a private service at David’s grave in Portianos Military Cemetery.

From the 2009 Order of Service:

“This soil has come with blessings from your mother’s home in Whakatāne in New Zealand. Now we have brought it to the other side of the world as you also came so long ago, to lie in peace with you, a part of New Zealand, from the land you loved, to remain with you forever.”⁹

The greenstone roimata was left to symbolise strength, independence, unity, and pride.  The Last Post was played, and prayers and karakia were spoken in both English and te reo Māori.

They also visited the graves of Waikohari Tamarapa (16/418) and Hare Taumaunu (16/78), fellow Māori soldiers, leaving small mementoes in remembrance. 

The journey to Lemnos in 2009 was not only about standing at David’s grave. It also brought the voices of the past back into the present. Among the taonga Noelene carried with her was the wartime diary of David’s older brother, Matthew Rapana Stewart. Written during the campaign itself, the diary provides a rare first-hand glimpse of the experiences of a young New Zealand serviceman, and of the moments when the Stewart brothers briefly crossed paths on Gallipoli.

Sergeant Matthew Rapana Stewart

His diaries trace the journey of a young serviceperson, ranging from the light-hearted Neptune ceremony at sea and his time on shore leave, to the harsh realities of Gallipoli.

On 14 November 1914, during the voyage, Stewart described the shipboard entertainment:

“In afternoon Neptune ceremony took place. The deck was crowded while the place over no 4 Hold was being prepared… The ceremony was very funny… All the officers were ducked and then a general bucket and water fight took place… Hauraki concert was very successful. The sea as smooth as glass.”¹⁰

By December 1914, Stewart was stationed in the burning sands outside Cairo. His Christmas Day entry paints a stark picture: “Leave was granted from reveille to 10.30 pm. Did not do any police duty but went into Cairo and had usual roam round. Things were very quiet. For my Xmas Dinner had a slice of bread and butter and a mug of tea. Very poor indeed.” Instead of celebration, it was a day of meagre rations, heat, and homesickness.

In early 1915, Matthew was hospitalised with an abscess and sent to Zeitoun Hospital in Egypt. His diary for April records the routine of a patient, inspections, loafing about, concerts, and guard changes. Once recovered, he rejoined his battalion on Gallipoli in mid June 1915.  Between May and July, he noted brief encounters with his younger brother and several visits from “Davy” or “Davie,” who was almost certainly David.

Stewart’s diary also vividly documented the violence of battle and on 7 August he wrote of charging a Turkish trench alongside Gurkhas:

“It was a fair terror charging up a slope in the condition we were in… bullets flew like rain.”

The following day he described what he witnessed after another attack:

“Some of the wounds… were the most horrible spectacles I have ever seen… living on bully beef and biscuits and half a mug of water per day.”

Matthew and his unit were also involved in the fierce fighting at Chunuk Bair, one of the most significant and costly battles for New Zealand forces. The Auckland Battalion was heavily engaged in the desperate attempt to seize and hold the ridge. Stewart’s diary entries from this period reflect the exhaustion and relentless routine of the men, yet what is most striking is the silence. In August 1915, when David was mortally wounded and evacuated to Lemnos where he died, Matthew’s diary makes no mention of it. The entries continue with notes about rations, marches, and fatigue, but not of his brother’s death. What Matthew could not or would not write in 1915 was instead given voice nearly a century later, when his niece Noelene stood at David’s grave and spoke aloud the words of remembrance he never recorded.

After Gallipoli, Stewart was again withdrawn to hospital in Egypt, before going to the Western Front, where he was wounded three times. He was promoted to Sergeant and discharged in 1919. Returning to Thames, he resumed work as an engineer at the A & G Price foundry and raised his whānau, living a long life until 1975.

For Noelene, carrying his diary back to Gallipoli in 2009 was both a tribute and a way to ensure his voice remained part of the family’s remembrance.

Lance Corporal John Francis Stewart

He fought in France and Italy, was wounded at Vieille-Chapelle in 1918, and later promoted to Lance Corporal. Badly gassed, he lived with respiratory problems for the rest of his life. His family recalled his mother sending him Māori medicines from Whakatāne, including a pungent Kumarahoe brew that was said to “either kill or cure you.”¹¹

After the war, John returned to Thames and later moved to Auckland. In 1929 he began work as one of the earliest attendants at Auckland War Memorial Museum, remaining there until his retirement in 1964. For decades he cared for the galleries, guiding visitors and serving as a quiet kaitiaki of remembrance.

In 1932, when the Hall of Memories was installed with the names of the fallen, John’s younger brother David was already there — not listed as Stewart, but as Tuati. For more than thirty years, John worked in the Museum that carried his brother’s name. Only decades after his death did Noelene uncover the truth, when she discovered that her uncle had served under a te reo Māori name.

Noelene’s journey was not the end of the whānau’s connection with Lemnos. Other family members have since made the journey to Portianos Military Cemetery, continuing the acts of remembrance begun in 2009. In September 2023, a direct descendant recorded on Online Cenotaph that she and her partner had also visited David’s grave. They left a pāua shell from his awa in Thames, another from his mother’s tribal area in the Eastern Bay of Plenty, and a medallion from his original battalion, the 6th Hauraki.

Conclusion

The Stewart brothers’ stories reflect the impacts of war both on the people who served and their whānau for generations to come.  Matthew returned home, wounded but able to rebuild his life, working as an engineer and raising his whānau. John too returned and, though his health was affected by gas injuries, he dedicated decades of his life to honouring the legacy of fellow servicepeople at Auckland War Memorial Museum. David, the youngest, never came home — his life cut short at Gallipoli and his grave resting on Lemnos.

For Noelene and her whānau, their journey in 2009 brought these strands together. By carrying Matthew’s diary, honouring John’s endurance, and fulfilling her vow to David, she reconnected her family to its own history.

“I wished I could have shared it with Dad, because he had inspired me to complete this trip and have such a wonderful memory,” Noelene said.¹²

A vow made in silence became an act of aroha on the other side of the world. By bringing the soil of Whakatāne to Lemnos, Noelene and her family reconnected whenua to whenua, ensuring that the sacrifice of Private Pareiha Tuati — David Apanui Stewart — will always be remembered.

Acknowledgement

Ngā mihi nui to Noelene Hughes (née Stewart) for her generosity in sharing the story of her whānau and the journey she made to Lemnos in 2009. Through her reflections and family documents, the story of Private Pareiha Tuati (David Apanui Stewart) and the Stewart whānau continues to be remembered and shared.

As her friend Viola Waiora simply said:

“I oti.”
It is done.

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