On the 25th of April Australians commemorate ANZAC Day.
I suppose it is a bit like Veteran’s Day in the USA.
It was the Anzacs (Australian and New Zealand Army Corps) who landed at Gallipoli during WWI to fend off the Ottoman Empire, as it was not called Turkey back then.
These men where all volunteers for the Australian Imperial Force, AIF, as it was then called. There were no conscripts.
There were still strong ties to Great Britain in 1914, the ‘Mother Country’ as it was perceived back then by many Australians, New Zealanders, Canadians, Indians, Ceylonese and South Africans and other members of the British Empire, now known as the British Commonwealth.Their was no racial or colour divide either.Even local Australian Germans joined up to fight for Australia!
Every year there are dawn services all over Australia, and also in Gallipoli, and every town, as far as I know, has a memorial statue or monument commemorating the fallen. There are marches to the memorials all over the country and every Australian veteran from every war Australia has been involved in, including WWII, Korea, Viet Nam, Iraq and Afghanistan is able to participate in the services and marches, as indeed are the general public, and of course the descendants of the military.
The words, “Lest We Forget” are emblazoned on the monuments.
Certain songs are sung from “O God, Our Help In Ages Past”, Lest We Forget to ”Waltzing Matildas”. And the “Last Post” is played.
Needless to say there are none of the WW1 war veterans left. Alec Campbell was the last to leave us.
However, many towns and suburbs have a Returned Services League (RSL) club. These are also open to the public as well as to all returned military.
They are places were memories can be exchanged, as well as providing meals and drinks and entertainment. I have often been to the one closet to our home which has an excellent collection of military memorabilia. This helps enforce just what some of the horrors have been endured by our veterans. At 6 PM the “Last Post” is played each day.
The Gallipoli landing was a mistake on the part of the British command. They were supposed to have landed elsewhere. The casualties were enormous and even when the ANZACs went on to other battle fields like Ypres and the Somme this continued until finally the Australian forces were permitted their own commander – John Monash.
Andrew Bolt offers a brief retrospective: The new tribalists attack even our ANZAC tradition
Monash left a lasting legacy. He was an engineer by profession. We have a university named after him, a statue in a city park and much more. See: Lessons in Leadership: The Life of Sir John Monash GCMG, KCB, VD.
Many books have been written about the ANZAC campaign, including “A Fortunate Life” by A.B. Facey. Many movies and miniseries have been filmed, including the A. B. Facey book, Gallipoli with Mel Gibson, and Anzacs with Paul Hogan, just to mention a few.
This is a very little-known song. I hadn’t heard of it until a few months ago:
Jon English – A Fortunate Life
Published on Feb 11, 2014 by 1621Rosie
From the soundtrack of the mini-series “A Fortunate Life” based upon the autobiography of World War 1 veteran, A. B. Facey.Music by Mario Millo. Vocals by Jon English.
Books have been written about Sir John Monash too, for example Monash: The Outsider Who Won A War, by Roland Perry.
And Keith Murdoch, father of Rupert, also played a somewhat significant role as a war journalist.
Further reading from Daniel Hannan, MEP. Over 400,000 Allied and German soldiers lost their lives at one battle alone: See: We talk of the ‘sacrifice’ of the First World War, but we have lost our sense of what that word means.
The Australian offers this story, unfortunately behind a paywall: British poll finds knowledge of World War I fading:
…FEWER than half the Britons questioned in a poll had any idea that US and Canadian troops fought in the First World War. Barely more than a third knew that Australia and New Zealand were involved.
[…]
Only 38 per cent of British respondents knew that North America was involved in the war, despite the fact that Canada – as a dominion – declared war on Germany in August 1914, and the US joined the war in April 1917. About 67,000 Canadian troops and 114,000 from the US were killed.Even though the involvement of Australian and New Zealand troops in the Gallipoli campaign is ingrained on their national consciousness, only 35 per cent of British people were aware that they took part. More than 61,000 Australians were killed in the war and 18,000 New Zealanders.(156,000 Australians were wounded, gassed, or taken prisoner.)…
It is a disgrace that Anzac Day is now being trivialised! But then we know the left likes to re-write history and geography. Look what happened to the US veterans recently. It’s no accident.
These ceremonies don’t glorify war: they shows us how ghastly war can be, and it gives us a chance to honour our brave and fallen young men.
We must educate our children and not let this revisionism happen!
Anzac Day 2014
Published on Apr 24, 2014 by Electricchris1
{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
I just realised that this year marks the Centenary of Anzac Day.
At that time we were a nation of 2 million and had the highest per capita death toll.
From The Australian (Pay wall) an excerpt:
“FEWER than half the Britons questioned in a poll had any idea that US and Canadian troops fought in the First World War. Barely more than a third knew that Australia and New Zealand were involved.
[…..]
Only 38 per cent of British respondents knew that North America was involved in the war, despite the fact that Canada – as a dominion – declared war on Germany in August 1914, and the US joined the war in April 1917. About 67,000 Canadian troops and 114,000 from the US were killed.
Even though the involvement of Australian and New Zealand troops in the Gallipoli campaign is ingrained on their national consciousness, only 35 per cent of British people were aware that they took part.
More than 61,000 Australians were killed in the war and 18,000 New Zealanders.”
(my additional figures:156,000 Australians were wounded, gassed, or taken prisoner.)
Larry Pickering has a wonderful poem up today – a bit long but good:
http://pickeringpost.com/story/the-anzac-on-the-wall/3149
I wandered thru a country town, ‘cos I had some time to spare,
And went into an antique shop to see what was in there.
Old Bikes and pumps and kero lamps, but hidden by it all,
A photo of a soldier boy – an Anzac on the Wall.
‘The Anzac have a name?’ I asked. The old man answered ‘No’.
The ones who could have told me mate, have passed on long ago.
The old man kept on talking and, according to his tale,
The photo was unwanted junk bought from a clearance sale.
‘I asked around’, the old man said, ‘but no-one knows his face,
He’s been on that wall twenty years… Deserves a better place.
For some-one must have loved him, so it seems a shame somehow.’
I nodded in agreement and then said, ‘I’ll take him now.’
My nameless digger’s photo, well it was a sorry sight
A cracked glass pane and a broken frame – I had to make it right
To prise the photo from its frame I took care just in case,
Cause only sticky paper held the cardboard back in place.
I peeled away the faded screed and much to my surprise,
Two letters and a telegram appeared before my eyes
The first reveals my Anzac’s name, and regiment of course
John Mathew Francis Stuart – of Australia’s own Light Horse.
This letter written from the front… My interest now was keen
This note was dated August seventh 1917
‘Dear Mum, I’m at Khalasa Springs not far from the Red Sea
They say it’s in the Bible – looks like a Billabong to me.
‘My Kathy wrote I’m in her prayers… she’s still my bride to be
I just can’t wait to see you both, you’re all the world to me.
And Mum you’ll soon meet Bluey, last month they shipped him out
I told him to call on you when he’s up and about.’
‘That bluey is a larrikin, and we all thought it funny
He lobbed a Turkish hand grenade into the CO’s dunny.
I told you how he dragged me wounded, in from no man’s land
He stopped the bleeding, closed the wound, with only his bare hand.’
‘Then he copped it at the front from some stray shrapnel blast
It was my turn to drag him in and I thought he wouldn’t last.
He woke up in hospital, and nearly lost his mind
Cause out there on the battlefield he’d left one leg behind.’
‘He’s been in a bad way Mum, he knows he’ll ride no more
Like me he loves a horse’s back, he was a champ before.
So Please Mum can you take him in, he’s been like my own brother
Raised in a Queensland orphanage he’ s never known a mother.’
But Struth, I miss Australia Mum, and in my mind each day
I am a mountain cattleman on high plains far away.
I’m mustering white-faced cattle, with no camel’s hump in sight
And I waltz my Matilda by a campfire every night
I wonder who rides Billy, I heard the pub burnt down
I’ll always love you and please say hooroo to all in town’.
The second letter I could see, was in a lady’s hand
An answer to her soldier son there in a foreign land.
Her copperplate was perfect, the pages neat and clean
It bore the date, November 3rd 1917.
‘T’was hard enough to lose your Dad, without you at the war
I’d hoped you would be home by now – each day I miss you more’
‘Your Kathy calls around a lot since you have been away
To share with me her hopes and dreams about your wedding day.
And Bluey has arrived – and what a godsend he has been
We talked and laughed for days about the things you’ve done and seen’
‘He really is a comfort, and works hard around the farm,
I read the same hope in his eyes that you won’t come to harm.
McConnell’s kids rode Billy, but suddenly that changed.
We had a violent lightning storm, and it was really strange.’
‘Last Wednesday, just on midnight, not a single cloud in sight,
It raged for several minutes, it gave us all a fright.
It really spooked your Billy – and he screamed and bucked and reared
And then he rushed the sliprail fence, which by a foot he cleared’
‘They brought him back next afternoon, but something’s changed I fear
It’s like the day you brought him home, for no one can get near.
Remember when you caught him with his black and flowing mane?
Now Horse breakers fear the beast that only you can tame,’
‘That’s why we need you home son’ – then the flow of ink went dry-
This letter was unfinished, and I couldn’t work out why.
Until I started reading, the letter number three
A yellow telegram delivered news of tragedy,
Her son killed in action – oh – what pain that must have been
The same date as her letter – 3rd November 1917
This letter which was never sent, became then one of three
She sealed behind the photo’s face – the face she longed to see.
And John’s home town’s old timers – children when he went to war
Would say no greater cattleman had left the town before.
They knew his widowed mother well – and with respect did tell
How when she lost her only boy she lost her mind as well.
She could not face the awful truth, to strangers she would speak
‘My Johnny’s at the war you know, he’s coming home next week.’
They all remembered Bluey he stayed on to the end.
A younger man with wooden leg became her closest friend.
And he would go and find her when she wandered old and weak
And always softly say ‘yes dear – John will be home next week.’
Then when she died Bluey moved on, to Queensland some did say.
I tried to find out where he went, but don’t know to this day.
And Kathy never wed – a lonely spinster some found odd.
She wouldn’t set foot in a church – she’d turned her back on God.
John’s mother left no Will I learned on my detective trail.
This explains my photo’s journey, of that clearance sale.
So I continued digging, cause I wanted to know more.
I found John’s name with thousands, in the records of the war.
His last ride proved his courage – a ride you will acclaim
The Light Horse Charge at Beersheba of everlasting fame.
That last day in October, back in 1917
At 4pm our brave boys fell – that sad fact I did glean.
That’s when John’s life was sacrificed, the record’s crystal clear
But 4pm in Beersheba is midnight over here……
So as John’s gallant spirit rose to cross the great divide,
Were lightning bolts back home, a signal from the other side?
Is that why Billy bolted and went racing as in pain?
Because he’d never feel his master on his back again?
Was it coincidental? same time – same day – same date?
Some proof of numerology, or just a quirk of fate?
I think it’s more than that you know, as I’ve heard wiser men,
Acknowledge there are many things that go beyond our ken
Where craggy peaks guard secrets ‘neath dark skies torn asunder,
Where hoof-beats are companions to the rolling waves of thunder
Where lightning cracks like 303’s and ricochets again
Where howling moaning gusts of wind sound just like dying men.
Some Mountain cattlemen have sworn on lonely alpine track,
They’ve glimpsed a huge black stallion – Light Horseman on his back.
Yes Sceptics say, it’s swirling clouds just forming apparitions
Oh no, my friend you can’t dismiss all this as superstition.
The desert of Beersheba – or windswept Aussie range,
John Stuart rides on forever there – Now I don’t find that strange.
Now some gaze upon this photo, and they often question me
And I tell them a small white lie, and say he’s family.
‘You must be proud of him.’ they say – I tell them, one and all,
That’s why he takes – the pride of place – my Anzac on the Wall.
By Jim Brown