ANZAC is a shortened term for Australian and New Zealand Army Corps. They fought side by side in the soldiers' first military action together during the first World War.
Every year on that date in April, Australians meet across the nation, from small country towns to the nation's largest cities, to commemorate their union, and especially a long battle fought at Gallipoli in Turkey.
A bit of history: in 1915, the soldiers formed part of an allied expedition that set out to capture the Gallipoli peninsula to open the Black Sea for allied navies. The plan was to capture Constantinople (now Istanbul) which was the capitol of the Ottoman empire and an ally of Germany. They landed on April 25 and met with fierce resistance from the Turkish defenders, according to documents.
What had been thought of as a bold stroke to knock Turkey out of the war ended in a stalemate, and the campaign dragged on for eight months. Both sides suffered heavy casualties and endured great hardships on that beautiful coastline. More than 8,000 Australian soldiers were killed, and April 25 became the day on which Australians remembered the sacrifice of those who had died in that war.
Although the campaign is reported to have failed in its military objective to capture Constantinople and knock Turkey out of the war, the Australian and New Zealand actions bequeathed an intangible but powerful legacy. The creation of what became known as the ANZAC legend became an important part of the legacy of both nations.
Yesterday, I went to a small ceremony in Sebastopol, an incorporated area of Ballarat. The local Sebastopol CFA members were going to march there, some of whom wore their grandparents' medals received in the course of that war, and other wars. Cadets from the Australian military led the march, and other relatives of those who served. Some bore national flags, some carried memorial wreaths.
A high school band played songs, people clapped and cheered, and wind and rain from an autumn storm drenched us and left ears and noses and uncovered hairdos dripping frigid water.
Speakers spoke, wreaths were laid, and after the 30-minute ceremony, schoolchildren in school uniforms posed for pictures in front of a memorial engraved with the names of those who have died in service to this area of the nation. Behind the memorial, 148 white crosses adorned with red poppies were formed in a cross. Several old people stood in silence, looking at names they recognized or perhaps knew as family.
Although Australia is my newly adopted country, I was moved. I longed to sing the National Anthem, Advance Australia Fair, along with my husband, but I didn't know the words. I wanted to join the last words of a poem, Lest We Forget, but I didn't know the cue.
I thought of my grandfather, Leslie Thomas Wallenborn, who was an American Army officer in World War II and the Korean Conflict, and how little I know about him, and his exploits, and was saddened at my lack of knowledge of my own family history in the fight to keep freedom in my own country, and to liberate other, oppressed nations.
I also felt very proud that I do have a family heritage of fighting for a nation's liberty, and also proud to be a part of my new, adopted country which honors its fighting men and women as much as, and perhaps more in some ways, than the country of my birth.
So here is my salute, on this ANZAC Day weekend, to ALL those who serve for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for all people...no matter where we hail from.
Australian military cadets leading the way on a cold, drizzly, April autumn morning.
Family members of those who served bearing flags and memorial wreaths.
Memorials like this one, To the Fallen, can be found in nearly every town and city across Australia. The British Union Jack flag flies in tribute to the country Australia served under at that time, and as a nod to the country Australia is a commonwealth to.
"In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead, short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from falling hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep,
Though poppies grow
In Flanders fields."
--John McCrae, May 1915
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