Anzac Day. What does it mean to me?

[Geoff13]

Hi all. I know that this is not aviation related and I apologise for that. It is however important to me, as well as being a part of who I am. Please humour me and either read it or ignore it the choice is yours.

 

About 6 years ago when there was a deal of controversy about whether shops should be allowed to open on ANZAC day, I wrote the following piece on a forum I was very active on at the time. That forum is now defunct and the original piece has been lost. Below is my best recollection of what I wrote. I was approached later and asked if it could be published in the club magazine for the following ANZAC Day. Whether it was or not, I guess I will never know. Any way this is how the main thrust of my post went.

 

Anzac Day

 

What does it mean to me. I well remember my grandfather polishing his medals. When I asked him what he was doing and why, he would say to me boy I hope you never have to understand. That seemed like the silliest thing that you could say to a kid. I wanted to understand. He was my Pappa and my Hero, why would I not want to understand. My Pappa was I found out many years later a senior officer during WW2 and responsible for training Artillery soldiers to the point that he was never sent overseas. This I realised later in life was a great bone of contention for him because although the Army felt he was doing critical work, he felt he could do more if they had let him. He was a career soldier until the day he died.

 

You see I am the Grandson of a Soldier.

 

Life continued and in our small country town I grew and watched and learned. My father, another Hero to me and the man who had the greatest effect on who I am today was different to everyone else's father. In a small country town he was a deeply religious man. I only say this because it becomes important later. I always understood that our family were different but I never understood why. He never went to the Pub. On Sundays I wasn't allowed to play football. But the one thing that I never understood was that my Father despite being a serviceman during the Second World War never, Ever went to an Anzac Day Service. Don't get me wrong he placed enormous value on the day. He never worked and would always honor the Dawn, but in his own way out in our little back paddock on his own. Many years later once I had decided my own future and placed my own values on Anzac Day I asked my Father why. His answer not only shocked me but also made me sad and it also made me understand that for a generation, we Australians almost forgot the true meaning of Anzac Day. You see my father's answer was simple. He said son, when we get as many to the Dawn Service as we do to the piss-up at 1000 then I will join them. I am so proud to say that before my Father died I did see him start to re-attend Anzac Day Dawn Services. What that meant to me was that he believed the younger Generation actually got it. Whether he was right or wrong is irrelevant, what is important is that it is what he as an ex-serviceman believed.

 

You see I was the son of a Soldier.

 

As a 16 year old 6 foot tall bullet proof country kid, I packed my bags and pissed off to Victoria to join the Army as an Apprentice. I thought it was the greatest adventure in the world. Now 35 years later I realise that I was driven by deeper beliefs and feelings than I could ever imagine. In hindsight I think I had this feeling that I should do what I could to serve my Country and make my parents proud. Only many years later as I watched my son walk off to War did I realise that the real reason I had joined, was so that my children would never have to. In that task I still feel that I failed. It is without doubt my deepest regret that I could not protect my children from that horror of horrors and I shall live with it forever. You see I served through peace time. 18.5 years of peace. Sure we had peacekeeping missions, sure I served in England and Germany through the peak of the IRA crisis, but we (being my generation) never rid the world of War, and that was our job. In that respect I failed, but I did my best and Served with pride.

 

You see I was a soldier. You know that once you have been a Serviceman, you can never again really be a Civilian, as much as we want to we will always be Ex-Serviceman.

 

And so to the fourth Chapter, as I write this my Son is now a serviceman. The day he joined was the worst day of my life. I had feelings of absolute pride, of absolute fear knowing the future of the force he was joining, and absolute failure knowing that for all my service and effort, I had failed. My Son was going to war. I served so that he would never have to but here he was joining up with the absolute certainty that he was going to either Afghanistan or Iraq. So I had failed in my role as a parent to protect my kids. This past Anzac Day as it was almost certain that he was on his way to Afghanistan I woke up in time to go to the Dawn Service, put my medals on and my Fathers, and for the first time in 35 years I could not open that door and walk outside. I sat at the table crying like a baby with a feeling of total failure. Later in the day I forced myself to go for my daily walk and I observed a minute silence alongside the Vietnam Veterans Memorial on the Wynnum waterfront.

 

The following year he was actually in Afghanistan and it was worse. I did not observe Anzac Day at all that year. It was beyond my abilities to do so.

 

You see by now I had the toughest of Jobs that I had ever faced. Now I was the Father of a soldier. (And my boy was on active Service).

 

That was the end of my story 5 or so years ago, but if you will humour me, I would like to fill you in on the past 5 years.

 

Now again I celebrate Anzac Day. I honor our Veterans young and old. I wear what is left of my uniform with pride. And I have like my Father before me returned to the Dawn Services. I honor their Service and their Memory as we all should using the freedoms that they fought and died for.

 

This year being the 100th Anzac Day I feel that I should do something special. I tried to get a place in the Ballot for Gallipoli and failed. After that I tried to get a position on a Kakoda Trek. I was accepted at very late notice but have decided that my physical condition due mainly to my former service would make me a burden on my fellow trekkers. For this reason I decided not to go. But I still need to do something Special.

 

In 1971 my Father lost his leg in an industrial accident. We come from a small town and in honor of my Father the owners of the sawmill bought the log into town that had taken my Fathers leg off, painted it white and placed it in front of the sawmill with the caption Sam's Log painted on it. That log sat there for 20 years. Every time I drove through town I would see it. Then in about 2000 it disappeared. Well 4 years ago during a drought I found it again. It had been moved, not far but just to the outskirts of town. I spotted it as I drove through, the drought had killed the grass that normally hid it and it had again become visible.

 

So this Anzac Day, I intend to honor my Father and all the former Serviceman that he represents to me by going back out to Yelarbon with a tin of white paint. I am going to paint dads log white as it was back then and once again I am going to paint Sam's Log on it, so that as my Grand kids drive through town they can also honor their Grand Father and everything he and his Generation fought for.

 

Thank you for humouring me and reading this far. An to top it off Anzac Day this year will also be my first day of retirement, so I will never forget. The last day of work for me was determined by pure chance but it is so significant in the important things in my life that I believe it was pre-determined. So if you happen to pass through Yelarbon on Anzac Day and see a bloke beside the road painting an old log white, that will be me. Blow the horn and say Gidday.

 

 

[bexrbetter]

There's an interesting book called "The Soldiers That Won't March", a worthwhile and perspective changing read.

 

Geoff, don't happen to know a Bill Nolan do you? I ask because he was also in for the same "20 years of peace" and got out about the same time as you. He was at Enoggera for the last years.

 

 

[old man emu]

It is interesting how our feelings towards Anzac Day change as we age. As a child my memories of Anzac Day are of Dad sitting at the kitchen table a few days beforehand with a bottle of metal polish and a cloth rubbing away at his medals until they gleamed radiantly. I remember the evening before Anzac Day. Dad took on the task of moving the piano from the RSL club to the Public School down the road where the community had erected a memorial to the soldiers of the Great War. Then he'd be up before dawn to attend the Service; back to the RSL for breakfast and then on to the city to join his old comrades in arms in the March. We'd be at home with the TV tuned to the ABC, just to catch a glimpse of the 2/2 Battalion and maybe dad.

 

When he was young he would follow up the march by attending his battalion reunion. He'd imbibe a lot and come home a bit the worse for wear. That's why the play The One Day of the Year (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_One_Day_of_the_Year) struck a chord with me. As he grew older his Anzac Day adventures mellowed, and when he moved up near Gilgandra he always attended the Dawn Service or the town march. The Good Lord recruited him to the Heavenly Host in 2001, and since then I've tried to get to the Sydney March to carry his medals with his battalion.

 

This year I'm going to march at Gilgandra with my sister, my daughter and my niece. I've had Dad's medals remounted. My daughter and niece will carry them. And my sister and I will carry memorials of our grandfather and Great-Uncle. Doing family history research, I found that my grandfather was an original ANZAC, landing as part of the second wave on that fateful morning. He lasted 2 weeks before he was wounded during the Second Battle of Krithia and was invalided home, to suffer the effects of his wounds for the rest of his life. I have obtained a set of replicas of the medals awarded to Grandfather.

 

Our Great-Uncle was the only son of his family. He was lost to us in June 1918 in France. Lost because he still lies in that French field.

 

I think that we can be proud of the way Australia remembers its role in the turmoils of the 20th Century. Not for us parades to celebrate military victories and gloat over the defeated. We parade to celebrate the willingness of the Common Man to answer his/her country's call to preserve the society we had created through hard work and cooperation. At the same time we parade to lament the loss of of our compatriots who did not live to see the fruits of their sacrifices.

 

OME

 

Alfred stead.docx

 

Joseph William Smith.docx

 

Alfred stead.docx

Joseph William Smith.docx

[DGL Fox]

It's very interesting reading peoples memories of how they remember ANZAC day of their fathers and grandfathers, my grandfather died of natural causes in the late 60's followed a couple of years later by my father so I really don't have any memories of of them going to ANZAC day parades certainly not of my grandfather, I do have some vague recollections of my father going to the RSL club with my Uncle Bill but I am unsure if they actually went to the march or just for the beer and 2 up...I was just too young really to know anything about what was going on.

 

I know when I was in my 20's and right up to my late 40's I was not really to interested in what they had done in both wars, all I knew was my grandfather went to Gallipoli and onto France was he was an ambulance bearer in "A" company with the 3rd Field Ambulance and my Dad was in the navy and spent most of his time on a mine sweeper and was a stoker down in the bowels of the ship..I am guessing tending the engine.

 

Only in the last 10 years have I become interested in their war time history, I have done paid to get all of my grandfathers records which I only received not long ago, I feel after reading this I know my grandfather better than I did before and my Mother has given my info on my Dad's history also very interesting in that at the end of the war he was on one of the first ships into Tokyo Bay doing mine clearance duty..not much fun I would imagine being down in the engine bay while the ship was searching for mines..

 

For the last few years I have been going to the morning services and then later going in the march here in Caboolture, I am just deciding on whether I will go into the city for the big march this year or maybe I will go to Warwick for the march there that is where our family originated and where both of them enlisted.

 

I do feel that marching recognizes their service and brings me to know both of them a little better and to honour their memories and all of their mates that come home and also the one's that didn't. Lest us Forget !!!

 

Dad's& Grandfather's Medals11015.pdf

 

Dad's& Grandfather's Medals11015.pdf

[old man emu]

Go to the march at Warwick. Go back to your roots. I'm only going to Gilgandra because that's where my living family members are. My grandfather lived in Footscray when he enlisted, and Dad was born in Carlton, so going to Melbourne is not a sensible idea.

 

I can just imaging the feelings of grandfather's de facto (she wasn't my Dad's Mum) when the first news of the Gallipoli losses came through. A very large number of the young men of Footscray were in the 7th Battalion, and a lot were in Company E of that battalion. They were part of the first wave of landings on the 25th, and the Company was savagely mauled once they reached the beach. My grandfather had left Australia as a member of the 7th Battalion Reinforcements, in February 1915, however on 4th April 1915 he was transferred to the 5th Battalion. Given the slow mail service, and my grandfather probably wasn't much of a letter writer, when the news of the loss of so many 7th Battalion men, she must have been beside herself. To make matters worse, grandfather had given his brother as next-of-kin, and he lived in London. On top of that, grandfather was at Anzac Cove until the first week of May when his battalion moved over to Cape Helles for the campaign against Krithia, as I mentioned before. It must have been several months before she heard that he was alive.

 

OME

 

 

[DGL Fox]

OME you are right, I have decided to go to Warwick for the morning service and march....some of our family still live in Warwick, they are happy that I am coming out for the day ... I am looking forward to it as well...it should be a wonderful and emotional day...

 

David

 

 

[old man emu]

OME you are right

Of course OME is right. Was there ever any doubt?

 

Why don't you take the attached document which is what I made to remember my grandfather and great-uncle, and put in your grandfather's details, then put it in a frame and carry it on Anzac Day?

 

The colour patches in the corners can be found by Googling his battalion.

 

OME

 

Alfred stead Word 97-2003.doc

 

Alfred stead Word 97-2003.doc

[DGL Fox]

Yes sounds good mate...

 

David