By Sorrel Hoskin

The support of his family was the only thing that kept Malcolm Belcher sane during his three years in a psychiatric institution.

When Malcolm was committed to Porirua in May 1954 his family stuck by him. "We visited him at least once a week," says Ray, Malcolm's brother. Over the three years that the Warea farmer was in the institution his family travelled the equivalent of twice around the world, and wore out two cars in the process. When they weren't visiting Malcolm they were busy organising a committee of local people, hiring lawyers, holding public meetings, delivering leaflets and lobbying local politicians - all in an effort to get a public enquiry into Malcom's case, and to highlight the plight of returned servicemen.

"There wasn't a day I wasn't doing something to help. I was the liaison officer - I used to joke that as the middle child in the family that was my job anyway - keeping the peace between my elder and younger siblings!"

The Belcher family - Malcolm, Nesta, Joseph, Raymond, Colin and Irwin and their father had always been supportive of each other. As the eldest child Malcolm had always been a bit bossy, says Ray.

"Malcolm was a hard case. He loved making people laugh. He was a clown. He had the right song for every occasion - but he thought about who was present before he sang them - he didn't want to offend anyone. He was a hard sort." As a young man Malcolm was a wrestler, always taking on someone bigger than himself, a trait that would see him take on the New Zealand Government in 1954. He was a keen rifleman - shooting a full bore .303 rifle at targets up to 800 metres away. "He was a good shot," recalls Ray. He went to England and shot at Bisley, and on that same trip went to Canada and won a bronze medal. He never got any recognition for that medal back in New Zealand."

"If Malcolm thought something was wrong he couldn't back away from it. He couldn't let go, he had to battle it to its final conclusion."  That's how he became embroiled in the plight of the returned servicemen. "Basically the government promised to settle the boys (returned soldiers) at 1942 land values. The difference between that and values in 1950 they were going to write off - the tax payer would pick up the bill - that was their gift to say thanks to the boys." Malcolm had a loan of around £300. "The deal with the Government was that if they stayed on their farms for three years the loan would be wiped. After four years they wrote a letter and said 'we are calling in this loan' no explanation. They started taking it off him through his milk cheque. Malcolm's loan was only paltry to others - some were facing financial ruin." Altogether, 1200 returned service men owed a total of £6 million over and above the 1942 values of their farms. 

Malcolm tried every avenue to get heard. He went to a lawyer and tried to take a case against the Government but the lawyer refused - saying the State Advances were his 'bread and butter.' Every other lawyer he approached said the same. So in frustration he let off the explosions outside Parliament buildings in Wellington, "it was to get himself arrested so he could plead his case in the public eye."

But it wasn't until 11 days later that local police light heartedly arrested him and he was allowed out on a lenient bail, to ring the Okato police station every second day.

A week later while in his lawyer's office in Stratford he got a call to say two detectives from Wellington wanted to see him. Malcolm drove himself to New Plymouth where he was arrested, 'roughed up' and thrown into a padded cell for six hours before a magistrate turned up. 

"This is the bit that really concerns me," says Ray. "Why did these men come up from Wellington? It was being dealt with in the New Plymouth courts. Someone ordered them to pick him up - someone from high up who could overrule the New Plymouth magistrate. They said Malcolm was a danger to the public, but this was a man who had in his possession several full bore rifles and gunpowder. He was never either before or after his confinement questioned about these possessions."

Malcolm was sent to Wellington and committed to Porirua. While his family was rallying support on the outside Malcolm was doing OK inside says Ray. "He said himself that most of the people inside were often intellectuals with a conscience problem. He helped them - they would walk up and down debating with themselves - and he'd step in and would debate with them! He called it the university of adversity!" Most people would have cracked up - being locked up when he was sane, his relationship with his wife was failing and he was away from the farm. "But hope won't let go."

"The thing that really frightens me about it all is that no-one, no politician, stood up and said 'this is a free country, give him a trial.'" says Ray. "They just wanted to lock him away."

When he was finally released from the mental institution Malcolm wasn't allowed back to Taranaki, his wife no longer wanted to see him and the farm was being run by the Public Trust. "He just wanted to get back to the farm and get his life in order," says Ray.

Six months later, when he did eventually get back on the land Malcolm just wanted to lead the quiet life. He was elected the president of the 25th Battalion in New Plymouth, a position he held for 10 years, organising the battalion reunion. Not long before his death from leukaemia in 1992 he sat down and recorded several tapes, talking about his life and time spent battling the Government. Later, his brother Joe put together a book filled with their father's recollections, newspaper clippings and some of Malcolm's personal thoughts.

"He was a good man," says Ray. "A hard case."