We're currently in Australia. And it seems absolutely fitting today to join with our Anzac brothers and sisters to commemorate the 99th anniversary of the landing by Allied forces at Gallipoli peninsula in Turkey. We are attending a dawn service in at the War Memorial in Adelaide, and later this morning we will watch the parade through the city. It will be the first time we have attended Anzac Day commemorations other than in New Zealand.
The story of that fateful day was one of tragic loss of life by New Zealand and Australian troops, and by the Turks as well who lost 80,000 men in the nine-month campaign. Over 8500 young Australians didn't make it back from Gallipoli, and 2721 New Zealand soldiers died; around a quarter of all those who landed.
Our grandfather was one of those who went to Gallipoli and returned. But he came back to New Zealand with a bullet lodged in his hip, and nightmare memories of the squalor, the noise and the death.
World War I ended in 1918, but just 21 years later, England and Germany were at it again, and naturally New Zealand responded to the call. Our late father was a member of the 2NZEF, and saw action in the deserts of North Africa, in Crete and in Greece. One of his proudest moments late in life came when he was awarded a medal by the Greek ambassador for his service.
Dad may have come home from WWII without physical injuries, but the psychological damage was evident, and deep. He was a man about town prior to the war, but we never knew that man. To us he was intensely private, exceedingly loyal, and prone to bursts of anger. As we have aged, we understand why. He never spoke of the war, except on Anzac Day when he would march with his RSA comrades, and then adjourn for liquid refreshments and share memories with the men who held a common bond. But it was a part of him that we never saw.
In later years, a brother saw service in Vietnam and Cambodia. By the grace of God, we have never been required to serve our country in war, and we pray fervently that our children, and their children (when they arrive!) will be likewise spared.
War is futile, but sometimes, freedoms have to be defended. It's hard to imagine what the world would be like today had Hitler prevailed. But the cost of war is vast on so many levels, as members of our family and thousands of other families have discovered.
We honour the fallen of New Zealand, Australia and all war-torn nations today; we honour those who returned. And we express the fervent hope that the world will never go to war again.
We close with the immortal words from Laurence Binyon's For the Fallen:
Lest we forget.
Footnote: Barring anything of earth-shattering importance taken place, this is all you will hear from us this morning. We may blog later in the day; then again, we may choose not to.
