Basil Stewart (Peter) RENSHAW [2199]

  General Notes:

Peter was educated at Upper Hutt Primary and Hutt Valley High School.Started work for Dept Tourist & Publicity 1936. Served WW2 Sergeant 36th Infantry Batt. Chartered Accountant. Accountant Todd Motor Industries 1948 - 52. Development Staff T.A.B 1952-59. In his own accounting practice in Upper Hutt from 1960 until he retired in 1990.
Peter was beloved by all, his eulogy below records an exceptional life.

Peter was sent to live with his grandparents and Bet at Whites Line Rd. He hated it, poor boy (I used to think it would have been blissful, though just for holidays.) Peter was shy, and didn't get on with Tom. Somehow, too, he didn't feel he had the love of grandmother and aunt which I always did.
My mother used to invite him to have holidays with us at the farm. "Now dears, remember he doesn't know how to ride. Look after him." I don't know how good I was at this, and felt uneasy in later life when he told me what joyful occasions those farm holidays were with us. He grew up to be an accountant, and as that's the last thing I could ever be, I suspect we didn't have a great deal in common. Chris Cole-Catley.

Peters Eulogy 28 Sept 2010.
Delivered by his son Bob.
Dear Congregation,
On behalf of Peter's family, we want to thank you all for attending today.
Peter, or Dad as he was to us, always claimed he would be immortal but, alas, like all of us here, he eventually had to pass away.
On Sunday last, at my Church, when news of his passing over, as he liked to call it, was mentioned, people asked me if Dad had found Jesus. The answer was unequivocally Yes. Dad was an active Catholic and loved to attend Church here in Upper Hutt.
In the coffin is a man aged 91, just under one month short of his 92^nd birthday. He was a remarkable man and lived life always to the full.
He was the third child of his father, who had remarried, more than once and at times to more than one wife. Dad did tell us he was fostered out as a child and while his childhood was not the best, he maintained an optimistic outlook on life.
His cousin, Christine Cole-Catley sent an email, telling us how he would love to stay on her farm and learned to ride her pony called Gift. This knowledge is somewhat surprising as it is hard to image one's father, in those days, learning to ride or whatever and having the same experiences as we did, as children.
In 1994 Dad and I were sailing in a yacht race in the Wairoa River in Northern Hawkes Bay and Dad then let on he learnt to sail a boat and in much the same circumstances as he and I were now in, in a race.
Dad then commenced University and at some stage, met our mother Eve. They married in 1941 and then Dad went off to war. In later years, Dad would always concentrate his war stories on how hard it would have been for the women folk back home, not knowing if they would ever see their men again.
During one of the rare war stories he told, he did mention that the hardest task was to be sent out to get Japanese soldiers and bring them back alive, for interrogation.
Dad was very proud of his war efforts, and one of his biggest moments was when he, and some of the family, were invited to the book launch of Against The Rising Sun. We went along. not really knowing what it was about. Dad and the other veterans had a luncheon at the National Library and then went over to the Beehive where the then Prime Minister, Helen Clark, spoke about the thanks we, as citizens of New Zealand, owed to these soldiers who were nothing other than ordinary men and women from New Zealand. We do think Dad down played his feelings on the war. The question I ask, often, is - if we were ordered to jump out of a landing craft to secure a beachhead, knowing we could be killed - would we do it? Most of us here today cannot answer that question with certainty. We do owe him and his fellow soldiers a lot.
When Dad was discharged from the Army, he and Eve settled down in Masterton when they had the first of their 6 children. They then moved to Upper Hutt and had the other five.
Dad worked in Wellington as an accountant with the TAB. He would get up early, walk to the Upper Hutt Railway station and then catch a steam train into Wellington, and return about 12 hours later. He would often come home late, saying the steam engine had blown its boiler or something else had happened.
When the first electric units came into Upper Hutt, Dad took us all on the train to Silverstream on the Sunday it opened. We never had a car at that stage.
Dad brought a car. It was a Morris Minor. We had forgotten all about it until we saw a photo of the car. Bearing in mind there were six children and two adults, it was a miracle we could all squeeze in. (No compulsory car seats for us little ones then - if there had been, at the most we would have only been able to fit in 3).
As time went on, he and Keith Moodie brought a house at the site of the current Maidstone Mall. They operated as Public Accountants from that address. Us children had to go down, dig the garden and look after Basil the Goat. Alas, we must have been too much for Basil, as it hung itself.
After that house had been sold, Dad carried on his practice above the Bank of New South Wales in Upper Hutt. Mum was his secretary.
They sent us all to Catholic Schools - to St Joseph's here in Upper Hutt and to St Patrick's in Silverstream or to Sacred Heart College in Lower Hutt, depending on our gender. While the harsh treatment we had to bear was real, so was the expense of putting through the six children in the Catholic School system.
At that stage the family home was in Victoria Street in Upper Hutt. Dad would come home to find the heater was on, in the middle of winter, and tell us "I could cut the air with a knife - it was that hot". (I had to remind Dad of this when he came to stay at our home in Kapiti - when the temperature was extremely hot due to the gas heater. Payback time.)
Dad was proud to be a member of the Lions Club. He would go to his meetings and would come home saying "I am proud to be a Lion. The Lions will rule the world". (Hey Dad, this is not the Communist Party).
Talking about the Lions, Judith McKenzie (Dad's cousin) was a social worker with the then CYFS. Dad asked her how her work was going, and she said there were so many mothers, grandmothers caring for so many children in the days before the DPB. Dad then organised fundraising through the Lions clubs so that the children could have shoes for sports, money for camps and the little extras that kept the children in the main stream. That shows the kind of man he was - a caring and genuine sort.
I was born with asthma. In those days, an attack of asthma would last for 48 or more hours and one had just to ride it out. There were no inhalers then. Dad became secretary of the Asthma Society and he was amazed at the lack of knowledge in the medical fraternity. He was also stunned when the doctors would contradict one another over the best treatments. Dad continued a very close association with the Asthma Society for a large number of years.
You cannot talk about Dad without talking about his love of rugby. He loved the game. Some few months back, Dad was talking to Bill Freemen - of the All Black fame and Dad just loved being able to handle the prizes Bill had - signed jerseys by the All Blacks amongst other items. Dad was a vocal opponent of the protesters in the infamous Spring Bok tour and had written letters to the editor about the protests. He put his money where his mouth was.
Eventually Dad retired. Mum had had a stroke and Dad tended to her needs. He showed patience and tenderness when dealing with Mum's very pointed criticism of his care. As time went on, Dad became deaf. He blamed the war for it, but I think the cause was otherwise.
When Mum went into the convent nursing home, Dad had to care for himself. He learnt the art of cooking. He would often ask us at what temperature he should roast pork etc. He was proud of his new found cooking skills. When the family had gotten together after his death, we all remembered his corned beef, carrots and cabbage. No mustard sauce then.
When Mum passed away, it is fair to say we were concerned for Dad. We needn't have been. Dad sold the family house and moved to a flat in Wilford Street. All throughout this period in Dad's life were two very special people we want to mention and thank. Elsie and Doreen. Dad was very very close to those two ladies and on behalf of the family, we want to thank them for everything they did for Dad. There are others here today we should be thanking - and as a family, we do ask you not to be offended for not mentioning you - Dad did enjoy life to the fall and it is impossible to name everyone in Dad's life.
After his retirement, Dad learned to type. He was then given one computer and then others by the family. He loved to write about his child hood experiences and was in the process of completing a book before his death. - Dad, we will complete it for you.
He became a prolific author on life in Upper Hutt, life in the War and other experiences.
When Dad went to school, there were no biros or pocket calculators. For Dad to end up using Microsoft word and email at his age, was a miracle. However it did have its drawbacks. It was not unusual to get a call saying "Son, I don't want you to come over straight away but I cannot get my work to save on the computer" - at that stage we would be over and have the problem fixed within the next day.
To a very large degree, Dad was looked after by the three youngest children - David, Anne and Helen. Kevin lived in Australia and I in Paraparaumu. Patrick was in Wellington.
To those three go a special thanks as Dad did become somewhat demanding towards the end.
However, he was determined he was not going into a rest home, and never did.
He passed on on Thursday, 23^rd September. He was surrounded by his family that is proud to number 6 children, 21 grandchildren and 24 great grandchildren.
To those who think 91 is a good innings, it is. However the fact that he was around for so long would lead us to count on being able to pick his brains when faced with life's problems and he was able always to give sound, solid and wise advice.
Dad, when Mary passed away, you were a rock to me. When Christian passed away, you were a rock to Dennis and Jo.
Dad, we thank you.

  Research Notes:

Peter lived from 1930, when his mothers home was lost in a fire, to 1938 with his Grandparents.

  Other Records

1. Peter Renshaw.
GUEST COLUMN
LISTENER MAY 12 2001

BASIL RENSHAW
Guadalcanal, October 1943

All around wherever we walked were bones, and sometimes complete skeletons, and scraps of uniforms. As our training stepped up we of the mortar platoon were assigned to the rifle companies that we were to support. We were sent down the beach to board the destroyers that would take us up to the island that we were to attack. Our ship was the USS Ward. After a couple of days' training on the ship, we were taken by trucks down to the mouth of the Matinakau River for a final live shoot from our mortar squads. Back at camp, large aerial maps were on view in the mess tents.
The word was out. We were to attack the Treasury group of islands. "We want prisoners," said a Marine Corps officer at a company briefing. "Prisoners can give us a lot of information, and we have interpreters who can deal with them." He indicated a Japanese American in uniform next to him. With his Asian features he looked evil after everything we had been told about the Japanese. We had a final platoon briefing by our officer. We knew that insignia of rank had to be removed from uniforms and officers were not to be addressed by rank. "You may address me as Tom or Tommy," said our officer, Lieutenant Holmes. It cost him some effort to allow the implied familiarity but he did not lose any respect "You have tomorrow to rest up and if any of you want to write a letter home I'll see it gets sent. Good luck to us all."
Each of us was alone with his thoughts. We knew from intelligence reports that our battalion, the 36th of the 2nd NZEF, had been selected to land on the most heavily defended sector of the enemy held beach. There's nothing quite like the experience of landing on an enemy shore, and the waiting was intolerable. None of us had to be woken from reveille on D-Day. We had a quick breakfast at the mess tables. A big and jovial black cook served us up the best coffee I have ever tasted. I'm sure he felt that for some of us it would be our last drink. We took off in the early afternoon, and all through the night I tried to sleep with the rolling and pitching of the ship. I had wedged myself between some of the hatchways mindful that otherwise I could be swept overboard. I must have dozed off to be awakened at dawn by an almighty roar as the guns from the escorting warships opened up. "Away all boats" and "Give them hell from us" was the final send-off from the Crew. The shelling of the beach stopped and with a roar of their motors, the barges from each destroyer headed for the island. Enemy fire snapped around us and then after an age we slammed up on the shore. The noise was deafening. Guns on a hill above opened up on us. Then they suddenly stopped firing. We learnt afterwards that one of our companies had pushed inland and killed them. We were told to dig in and wait. News filtered back about who had been killed. Some had not even got ashore when an enemy plane bombed ships unloading our men. Night came, and bombs fell all around us. With morning we found many Japs had infiltrated our lines and caused some casualties.
Then I began to feel deadly sick. I wanted to vomit but I couldn't. I knew I had to report to the Regimental Aid Post. I had to wait my turn to see a doctor. Wounded were being treated. "I think you've got a dose of hepatitis, sergeant," said the doctor. I went down to the beach after letting one of the other sergeants know that he was in charge. Lieutenant Holmes had been badly wounded. I joined a party of other sick and wounded and we went down to the beach to be loaded onto a barge. The beach was a shambles. Rows of bodies wrapped in blankets and awaiting burial lay in neat lines. At Stirling Island, I was told I needed a blood test. Bulldozers hacked away at the nearby bush to clear a path for an airstrip. At night the Jap bombers came over. One cut its motor and I heard a bomb whistling down. I felt too sick to care whether I lived or died. Several Americans were admitted with malaria. One in the next bed told me he was from Mississippi. He hadn't taken his atabrine because he'd heard it caused sterility. We took our atabrine regularly as we were told. After a few days I felt a little better, but one of the doctors told me I was being sent back to New Caledonia to the base hospital. I didn't know it then but that was the end of my war and I was boarded out a few weeks' later. So Anzac Day has just passed for 2001. My daughters ask me why I don't wear my medals on the parade. I tell them that there were many better men who were more entitled to wear their medals having seen a lot more of the war than I did.

Basil married Laura Eva (Eve) BURLEY [2354] [MRIN: 775], daughter of Richard Thomas BURLEY [2355] and Alice Agnes WALSH [2356], on 22 Nov 1941 in Wellington N.Z. (Laura Eva (Eve) BURLEY [2354] was born on 29 Dec 1916 in Reefton NZ and died on 24 Jan 2003 in Upper Hutt WTN NZ.)