ANZAC day.

I’ve been meaning to go to one of the dawn ceremonies for years, but I kept putting it off because I couldn’t be bothered getting up that early. Or I’d have something on the night before, or I just couldn’t get motivated enough. This year a workmate and I made a pact to finally go.

It would have been harder to wake up if Lee’s on call phone hadn’t gone off at 4am, but it did, so it was easier. We left the house around 10 past 5. I was amazed at the number of people streaming to the cenotaph. I guess I’ve never been before so I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the Wellington turn out was huge. It was very cold but the atmosphere was amazing, so quiet and respectful and so many children there with their parents. We didn’t get there early enough to get a really good view. We were in the middle of the road between the cenotaph and the law school. If i go again I’d like to be in front of the cenotaph.

The service was good, not too long and with a very moving address from Group Captain of the Royal Australian Air Force. I cried a little, and I cried again at the end when the veterans walked past the place where we were standing and everyone clapped for them. There was a fly over from some army helicopters and the guns being fired were very impressive.

It’s hard to describe how it felt to be there, proud certainly. But sad. It was such a horrific moment in our National history, and a reminder of all the people who have served in all those wars and are still serving now.

I emailed my Mum and Dad, I knew vaguely that at least one of my grandparents had served, but I knew no details. It turns out my mother’s father served late in World War 2 in Italy, but the details aren’t very clear.

This is what my father emailed me:

Your paternal grandfather Harold, was one of an ANZAC force in Greece early in WW2, he was a signalman. The Germans over-whelmed them and forced a retreat to Crete from where they were again ousted. I don’t know details but Mum said that he missed the boats and a group of them had to wait for rescue, they almost starved and were eating grass.

From there he was in Egypt and the army chased the Italians across North Africa, Dad was a truck driver and cook. When they reached Libya The Germans arrived under Rommel and promptly drove them back to Egypt where Rommel was finally repulsed at the battle of El Alamein. Dad was full of stories about the retreat and break-outs from Tobruk and Mersa Matruh, he once told me that he never turned the engine of his truck off, so it was always ready to go.

He was invalided out due to sand in the lungs after Alamein.

My maternal grandfather Henry Milligan saw action in WW1, he was at Gallipoli and later in France but I don’t know where. He lost an arm and had 3-4 very impressive bullet scars in his abdomen. I’d say he was a pretty lucky man.

I had no clue that I had such a close link to Gallipolli. It’s quite humbling and it makes me even more proud to have attended the dawn service. Next year I might go to one of the later services though, maybe the one at the National War memorial in the middle of the morning.

They shall not grow 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. – Laurence Binyon