Today (April 25) is ANZAC Day.
It’s a public holiday we experience as a nation in order to remember and recognise
the sacrifices made by the Australian & New Zealand Army
Corps; to commemorate all armed forces past and present, with particular
focus on the devastating campaign at Anzac Cove in Gallipoli, Turkey. There are
dawn services and remembrance ceremonies that happen nationwide and overseas. It
is an annual occasion that is imbued with solemnity, empathy and respect. Next
year begins the ANZAC Centenary; one hundred years since our nation joined WWI.
I view broadcasts of various services
and experience a range of diverse emotions as serving personnel (past and
present), descendants, dignitaries and other participants march, speak, sing,
play, watch… Diary excerpts recited aloud give me goose bumps; evocative fragments
that attempt to convey some of the horrors experienced in wartime. The Ode puts a lump in my throat. The Last Post brings me to tears. And
yet, these services also display the thousands and thousands of people in
attendance, the constant applause throughout the March, little children with
pictures of long-gone-relatives, the proud but grim smiles of those being
acknowledged. I recall the stories I have been told by my Mother and other
family members of brave young men and women from whom I descend; some returned
and some did not. Others were taken from us before I was old enough to truly
know them or converse properly and I mourn the loss heavily.
"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." {The Ode, from For the Fallen, by Laurence Binyon}
Most powerfully, though, I always
find myself struck by the dichotomy of this day. We pause in sadness but also
in hope. We recall devastating losses at the hands of our enemies but stand in
solemn unity with them now as allies. War casts a black cloud over our embattled
past but shines a guiding light on a peaceful future. My heart is filled with
gratitude at the sacrifices made for our nation but unburdened by the inconceivable
fear, suffering and loss that stalked our nation in wartime. I have only ever
known what it is to be free. I was born into the greatest country in the world;
a birthright secured for me and countless others by courageous Australians who
fought and died in senseless, wasteful, brutal and desolate circumstances. They
were like me; they had people who loved them and who they loved in return,
places they longed to visit, passions to follow and ambitions to strive
towards. I sit here typing away, comfortable, healthy, fortunate and free, aware
as always but especially on days like today, that their sacrifice is
immeasurable and can never be repaid. I can only hope that in the next one
hundred years these days of dignified recognition and heartfelt remembrance continue,
the significance never diminishing; that our nation always values the freedom
that came at such a high cost.
