ANZAC DAY

It is ANZAC Day here in Australia and New Zealand. For the benefit of the international visitors to this blog, the 25th of April 1915 was a day when these two small, but great, nations lost many of their sons on the foreign soil of Turkey. An extract from Wikipedia relates Anzac day as the following.

"The Battle of Gallipoli took place at Gallipoli peninsula in Turkey from 25 April 1915 to 9 January 1916, during the First World War. A joint British Empire and French operation was mounted to capture the Ottoman capital of Istanbul, and secure a sea route to Russia. The attempt failed, with heavy casualties on both sides. In Turkey, the campaign is known as the Çanakkale Savaşları, after the province of Çanakkale. In the United Kingdom, it is called the Dardanelles Campaign or Gallipoli. In France it is called Les Dardanelles. In Australia,New Zealand, and Newfoundland, it is known as the Gallipoli Campaign or simply as Gallipoli. The Gallipoli campaign resonated profoundly among all nations involved. In Turkey, the battle is perceived as a defining moment in the history of the Turkish people—a final surge in the defense of the motherland as the centuries-old Ottoman Empire was crumbling. The struggle laid the grounds for the Turkish War of Independence and the foundation of the Turkish Republic eight years later under Atatürk, himself a commander at Gallipoli. In Australia and New Zealand, the campaign was the first major battle undertaken by a joint military formation, the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC), and is often considered to mark the birth of national consciousness in both of these countries. Anzac Day (April 25) remains the most significant commemoration of military casualties and veterans in Australia and New Zealand, surpassing Armistice Day/Remembrance Day."

Richard Reid wrote the following in his book A Duty Clear Before Us:
"The words ‘Anzac’ and ‘Gallipoli’ are part of the Australian and New Zealand heritage. They bring to mind thoughts of young men who fought and died far from their homes and families, and the values that we hold dear—courage, mateship and determination. The Anzac landings on 25 April 1915 led to the tragedy of the Gallipoli campaign and a generation of young lives lost. But they also epitomised commitment to duty in the face of appalling odds and conditions and heroism of an extraordinary nature. On a small peninsula, a force of almost 500 000 men, drawn from 14 nations, came against a similar number of Turkish soldiers determined to defend their homeland. The casualties sustained by both sides during the eight-month campaign totalled more than 400 000, of whom some 130 000 were killed. Yet, as the title of this book suggests, the Anzacs who served at Gallipoli willingly embraced their “duty". They thought of loved ones, they sought wisdom from their leaders and nothing could deter them from their commitment to duty."

I wanted to include a post on this important topic as my own personal memorial to those fallen men and women who paid the ultimate price for their countries. I have not yet been to Gallipoli, and feel that I have a destiny to visit there in a coming day and year. I have been to the dawn memorial services over a number of years and am humbled by the feeling that seems to gently caress the soul as the sun arises and we remember those who lost their lives. It is a powerful and emotive time. I don't know any of those people, nor do I know what they went through, but I feel for them, and feel to live each day more fully and purposefully in my silent tribute.



The picture below is of one of the actual vessels that lies silent in the hall of orientation, at the Australian War Memorial in Canberra, our Nations Capitol. I looked upon the seats that spread across the boat and wondered at the silence and reflection the men would have had as they were rowed ashore with bullets raining down upon them and the lapping of waves on the bow of the boat. The boat lies empty now, but I sense the presence of many who once sat where I stood recently. I ponder and am grateful for much on this day.



Another picture is of the women waving the men goodbye as they set sail from Australia to a land that they would never have before known, it is as powerful an image as I have ever seen. The hopes, the fears, the expectations and the tears. All of which are now stilled, but not forgotten.



The next picture is of a diorama at the War Memorial depicting the mud and treacherous conditions the soldiers faced in the fighting. The next image is a life size effigy of a man sitting in the middle of the mud and when you see it, one senses the hopelessness, the heartache and futility of conflict on such a huge scale.





The Cross above is an actual cross created and used at Gallipoli before the soldier was reinterred and given a fitting headstone and is now housed in the War memorial. I marvel also at the hands that fashioned the metal to emboss the soldiers name. It is a testament to the man over whom it once identified, and also the man who created it. I wonder what went through his mind as he did so. I am keenly aware of life's fragility on days such as these.

I was in the company of a retired US Air Force General one time who made the observation to someone in the small group of 5-6 of which I was one, that "should a world war ever occur again, that the terms of surrender and cessation of war will never be possible anymore." The question was asked of him, "what do you mean? " His answer was met with a silence and hopelessness, he said simply, "that we are rapidly losing the ability to tell who the enemy is anymore. It is unlikely that we will ever really know who the perpetrators actually are to engage in dialogue with."

They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.
Lest We Forget.