ANZAC DAY - WE WILL REMEMBER THEM

Gallipoli has become a mecca for those wanting to make the pilgrimage to be where their fathers, grandfathers, uncles and other family or friends long gone, both fought and died on the other side of the world. Even those with no family involved feel a strong connection to this place and moment in history when our young men were sent into hell like lambs to the slaughter. There is something so Australian in that we have chosen not our biggest victory to become the country’s annual remembrance for those who died in battle, but rather, a military disaster in which our troops were caught up. What has become the Anzac legend and spirit, that fierce tenacity in the face of such ridiculous odds, was forged in that cove in northern Turkey back in 1915. Out of the chaos our nation found its strength of character, and stamped its presence on the world stage.

Countless thousands rose in the dark this morning on what is probably Australia’s most religious day, to honour the sacrifice of our troops involved in conflicts right around the world. In every capital city, and in towns large and small right across the country, the cenotaph or war memorial in each place with the names inscribed of those from their town who did not return, becomes the focal point of what never fails to be a profoundly moving dawn memorial service.

Why a dawn service? For those on the battlefront, after intelligence is gained, strategies discussed and plans made, dawn is often the time when soldiers head into battle, when the war machine gets into gear for the next onslaught. What better way of standing with them than making the small sacrifice of rising early and gathering to commemorate their sacrifice at the hour when they would have faced the enemy and felt the most fear.

From The Men who Sleep with Danger written in 1914, poet and author Henry Lawson made a fitting observation and tribute to the spirit of those who leave the comfort and safety of home and serve on far flung battlefields.

The men who sleep with Danger Are mostly quiet men;

And one may use a rifle, And one may use a pen.

And some meet wrong with patience, And some arise and strike;

But in the big essentials They’re pretty much alike.

The men who sleep with Danger Sleep soundly while they may,

But always wake at midnight Or just before the day.

A Something in the darkness That shudders at the dawn –

A side-mate softly wakened, A pistol swiftly drawn.

The men who sail with Danger, Are actors at command –

They lightly laugh to fool you When terror is at hand.

The men who sail with Danger A wondrous insight have;

They know if you are timid, They know if you are brave.

The men who live with Danger They take things as they go -

In seeming unpreparedness, To those who do not know.

They sleep when work is over, And mind and body ache;

But Danger whispers gently, And they are wide awake!

Services in Gallipoli, Villers-Bretonneux in France and other places overseas where our soldiers died attract large crowds as well as the media, but today in pubs and RSL clubs everywhere the Diggers and those who have followed them in more modern conflicts, will sit and reminisce over a few beers, raising a glass to the mates who didn’t return, and laughing about the good times in order to block out the memories they would rather not have.

How do you thank them? Not only those who gave their lives on the battlefield, but those who returned and still go on living the nightmare.

At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember them.