…
Bless them all.
it’s not a happy day at all…we got thrashed by the lankans in the world cup semi final…
Nope, it’s not a happy day, it’s a day to remember the levels of madness people are capable of. Typically we tend to concentrate on the triumph in adversity, I prefer to reflect on the sorts of folly poor government can lead to and how enduring the effects can be. The Gallipoli campaign was a grand fuck up. End of chat. My grandmother felt much the same way. Indeed she reflected some ten years after my grandfather’s death that perhaps the drunken violence she had endured all her married life may have been a result of his war service, and in particular his time in Gallipoli.
Sadly, some of the worst scenes of nationalistic excess also occur on Anzac Day, particularly at Gallipoli in Turkey, where mealy mouthed drunken yoof wrap themselves in the Australian flag and invariably dissrupt the solemn Dawn Service post the overnight dance parties. Meanwhile, back in Australia, the tradition of allowing games of two up at local pubs is under threat as the drunken violence is considered to grave a threat to allow it.
Lest we forget.
HG
[quote=“Huang Guang Chen”]
Sadly, some of the worst scenes of nationalistic excess also occur on Anzac Day, particularly at Gallipoli in Turkey, where mealy mouthed drunken yoof wrap themselves in the Australian flag and invariably dissrupt the solemn Dawn Service post the overnight dance parties. Meanwhile, back in Australia, the tradition of allowing games of two up at local pubs is under threat as the drunken violence is considered to grave a threat to allow it.
Lest we forget.
HG[/quote]
In my younger years working behind the bar at an RSL club in Sydney, every Anzac Day I saw some of the worst examples of racism I’ve ever encountered . Any respect I might have had was subsequently wiped out by those ignorant fools.
You ought to have a read at Sunset Song by Lewis Grassic Gibbon, if you can get past the vernacular.
Today is the day of the year on which Australians memorialise (that’s ‘memorialise’, not ‘celebrate’), our nation’s most famous military defeat. I’m no great patriot, but I think it says something about our nation that the only nationally observed days we have which commemorate wars are those which memorialise an incredible defeat in World War I (ANZAC Day, April 25), or the end of the war (Remembrance Day, November 11). We do not ‘celebrate’ VE Day (May 8), though it is acknowledged.
On another forum I saw some excellent shots taken of this year’s ANZAC day memorial. Here they are:
This post will really mean the most to any Australians and New Zealanders here, and very little (if anything), to anyone else, so I won’t be offended if it passes without comment. But for those of us who choose to remember, and whose families were directly affected by that conflict (as so many were), I thought the above photos might serve as an appropriate reminder.
I’ll end this post with the words so well known to Australians and New Zealanders, so oft quoted on this day, written by the Turkish Lieutenant Colonel who defeated our forces at Gallipoli, the great Mustafa Kemal, better known as Ataturk:
LIT mods might want to merge this with the existing ANZAC thread in Open (I’m merging two threads there now).
http://www.forumosa.com/taiwan/viewtopic.php?t=48303
Thanks mate, didn’t see that one (I tend to think of the ‘Open Forum’ as one step away from Flounder, and never go there).
Argh, wish I had known. I would have been there for sure.
‘buy a digger a beer’ day.
thanks guys.
That second shot with the little kid in his great-grandfather’s (?) hat is one of the most moving I’ve ever seen.
[quote=“Huang Guang Chen”]Nope, it’s not a happy day, it’s a day to remember the levels of madness people are capable of. Typically we tend to concentrate on the triumph in adversity, I prefer to reflect on the sorts of folly poor government can lead to and how enduring the effects can be. The Gallipoli campaign was a grand fuck up. End of chat. My grandmother felt much the same way. Indeed she reflected some ten years after my grandfather’s death that perhaps the drunken violence she had endured all her married life may have been a result of his war service, and in particular his time in Gallipoli.
Sadly, some of the worst scenes of nationalistic excess also occur on Anzac Day, particularly at Gallipoli in Turkey, where mealy mouthed drunken yoof wrap themselves in the Australian flag and invariably dissrupt the solemn Dawn Service post the overnight dance parties. Meanwhile, back in Australia, the tradition of allowing games of two up at local pubs is under threat as the drunken violence is considered to grave a threat to allow it.
Lest we forget.
HG[/quote]
HG The way we remember is just as important as that we remember. I always feel a twinge when I go by the memorial to the “Glorious Dead”. What is it to be gloriously dead? I know I owe these people rememberance…but I cannot reconcile it with glory. I’m sure they would rather much be alive.
Agreed. There are some great shots there. The full gallery is here (good shot of Andrew Denton in there, for those looking closely).
Agreed.
There’s something quite bizarre about the modern Anzac day, elevated as it has by Johnny - Neo-fascist nationalistic asshole Winston - Howard. My grandfather, who was an Anzac in WWI and served again in WWII, never went to the dawn service. In fact that was very common among returned soldiers. He certainly lost a lot of friends and family in both wars, but chose his own way to remember them. In days of old this was perfectly acceptable, but in recent years it has become a patriotic duty to get out of bed at 4am, hit the dawn service followed by the pub for a day of grog and gambling.
There are some very special features to the original Anzacs which may indicate just how badly the modern compulsion has become. For one, they went on strike in France, “the jack up” against conscription, arguing that only volunteers should be involved in the war. As they were all volunteers, shooting for desertion were extremely rare compared to the French and UK military. This was held so strongly that even in WWII when they did have conscription, conscripts could only be sent within Australian territores, unfortunately for them that included New Guinea.
Another interesting spin is the noted dropping of “Simpson and his donkey” as the archetypical strugglers of Gallipoli. Simpson was trotted out every year and held aloft until the Howard years. A further cynical rewriting of history by that slimy turd Howard and his ilk.
Now why do you suppose outr heroic war dead would cop that treatment?
Try this for size.
[quote]John Simpson was a strong union man and a socialist. In his letters to his parents in England, he called for a socialist revolution in Britain. He volunteered to join the Australian Armed forces thinking he would be able to score a free trip back to England, never imagining he would end up on the shores of Gallipoli. He became a stretcher bearer, believing this was the best way to avoid combat duties. When he arrived at Gallipoli he adopted a donkey which he called Abdul and for 40 days ferried soldiers who had been injured by flying shrapnel back to the beach for evacuation. He avoided going into the thick of battle to take out the wounded and concentrated on carrying out soldiers on his donkey who were not seriously injured.
His life and death at Gallipoli was immortalised by a publicity machine that was keen to create an acceptable hero among a war weary public back home. Little regard was taken about the real John Simpson Kirkpatrick and a myth was spun to suit the propaganda needs of a government that was coming under increased pressure back home because of horrifying number of casualties that were occurring.[/quote]
He fits two of Howards pet hates - he was an illegal immigrant and strong unionist. The elevation of Simpson and his subsequent dissapearance are no accident.
[quote]Simpson and His Donkey
A Humane Soldier
It is very fitting that one of the most celebrated Diggers in Australian folklore was no Rambo who shot everything than moved. To the contrary, he was a humanist by the name of John Simpson who disregarded orders, and his own safety, in his single-minded determination to save others.
Born in England in 1892, Simpson’s humanist tendencies were first put on show at age of 13. When he saw two drowning children in the River Tyne, he dived in and saved them. He loved animals. He worked with horses and donkeys, kept rabbits and pigeons, and was often seen with a dog following him around. He had a strong sense of responsibility to others. After his father died in 1909, he assumed the role of bread winner for his mother and sister. In 1910 he joined the crew of the SS Yeddo as a stoker and sailed for Newcastle, Australia. Without fail, he continually sent money home to his mother - irrespective of how much he needed it himself.
Although he was loyal to his family, in his work life he never showed a temperament would have suited him to army discipline. When the Yeddo arrived in Newcastle, he deserted. For the next few years he worked a series of jobs in different parts of the country, such as cane cutting, cattle droving, and coal mining, before moving on to something new. He then joined the crew of the SS Yankalilla. The job took him to Fremantle where Simpson again deserted.
Just 3 weeks after the outbreak of World War 1, Simpson enlisted. There was nothing patriotic in his motivations. He had heard that the Australian forces were destined to do their basic training in England, and by joining, he believed that he could get a free passage home.
Unfortunately for Simpson’s plans, the army was diverted to Egypt. In Egypt, Simpson was allotted to the Field Ambulance as a stretcher bearer. 8 months later he landed at ANZAC Cove, Gallipoli. Of the 1500 men who landed in the first wave, only 755 remained in active service at the end of the day. The sheer number of casualties necessitated that stretcher bearing parties be reduced in the size from 6 to 2.
Simpson then decided he could operate better by acting alone. He spied a deserted donkey in the wild overgrown gullies and decided to use it to help carry a wounded man to the beach. From that time on, he and his donkey acted as an independent team.
Instead of reporting to his unit, Simpson camped with the 21st Kohat Indian Mountain Artillery Battery - which had many mules and nicknamed Simpson “Bahadur” - the “bravest of the brave”. The refusal to report to his own field ambulance post was a direct affront to his Commanding Officer’s ego, not to mention considerations of military tradition, etiquette and discipline. For the first 4 days, he was technically a deserter until his CO, seeing the value of his work, agreed to turn a blind eye to rules and approved his actions.
Simpson would start his day as early as 6.30 a.m. and often continue until as late as 3.00 a.m. He made the one and a half mile trip, through sniper fire and shrapnel, 12-15 times a day. He would leave his donkey under cover while he went forward to collect the injured. On the return journey he would bring water for the wounded. He never hesitated or stopped even under the most furious shrapnel fire and was frequently warned of the dangers ahead but invariably replied “my troubles”.
For almost 24 days Simpson operated through the impossible conditions. After seeming to gain an aura of someone with divine protection, Simpson was killed. He was subsequently recommended for the Victoria Cross, twice, and the Distinguished Conduct Medal. The commander of the 4th Brigade, Colonel Monash, said:
“Private Simpson and his little beast earned the admiration of everyone at the upper end of the valley. They worked all day and night throughout the whole period since the landing, and the help rendered to the wounded was invaluable. Simpson knew no fear and moved unconcernedly amid shrapnel and rifle fire, steadily carrying out his self-imposed task day by day, and he frequently earned the applause of the personnel for his many fearless rescues of wounded men from areas subject to rifle and shrapnel fire.”
Padre George Green, who led Simpson’s burial service, later said :
“If ever there was a man deserve the Victoria Cross it was Simpson. I often remember now the scene I saw frequently in shrapnel Gully, of that cheerful soul calmly walking down the gully with a Red Cross armlet tied round the donkey’s head. That gully was under direct fire from the enemy almost all the time.”
Sgt. Hookway, his Section Sergeant, said of him:
[b]“a big man and very muscular, though aged only 22 and was selected at once as a stretcher bearer… he was too human to be a parade ground soldier, and strongly disliked discipline; though not lazy he shirked the drudgery of ‘forming fours’, and other irksome military tasks.”
Although Simpson had the respect of all those who knew him, his larrikin ways did not endear him to the authorities thus all nominations for posthumous decoration were declined. The lack of posthumous decoration probably bothered Simpson’s admirers far more than it would have ever bothered Simpson. He just didn’t have the character that sought recognition, decoration or awards.
Despite the lack of military decoration, the wider community elevated him to iconic status. He was seen to embody the ANZAC spirit of abandonment of everything except that which is important. In 1965, to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the ANZAC landings, Australian stamps where issued depicting Simpson, his donkey and a wounded soldier. In 1967, the Australian Government released the ANZAC Commemorative Medallion. It depicted Simpson and his donkey. In 1995, the Australian five dollar commemorative coin was released. Again, it depicted Simpson, his donkey and a wounded soldier. In 1996, the Australian 100 dollar bill was released. It had Simpson and his donkey in the background. [/b] (note the year, Australia was in Vietnam at that time.)
While the stamps, the medals, and the currency have all helped immortalise his name, perhaps the commemoration that most befitted his character was a simple stone that replaced the cross over his grave in Gallipoli. It read:
JOHN SIMPSON
KIRKPATRICK SERVED AS
202 PRIVATE
J SIMPSON,
AUST. ARMY MEDICAL CORPS,
19TH MAY 1915 AGE 22
HE GAVE HIS LIFE
THAT OTHERS MAY LIVE.[/quote]
HG
God! I’ve only just recovered from Yeltsin-inspired drunken debauchery, and now I’ve got ANZAC day. I’ll be raising a few glasses to the old ANZAC ghosts and to the soldiers from England and France (let’s not forget that they suffered greater losses than the Aussies), and to Johnny Turk.
ANZAC Day is always a bit hard for me. I was badly wounded, almost killed, fighting on Anzac Day many years ago in New Zealand.
[quote]
Sgt. Hookway, his Section Sergeant, said of him:
“a big man and very muscular, though aged only 22 and was selected at once as a stretcher bearer… he was too human to be a parade ground soldier, and strongly disliked discipline; though not lazy he shirked the drudgery of ‘forming fours’, and other irksome military tasks.”
Although Simpson had the respect of all those who knew him, his larrikin ways did not endear him to the authorities thus all nominations for posthumous decoration were declined. The lack of posthumous decoration probably bothered Simpson’s admirers far more than it would have ever bothered Simpson. He just didn’t have the character that sought recognition, decoration or awards.[/quote]
Classic Australian character. Typical larrikan. Pity he has been exploited for propaganda purposes, but that shouldn’t detract from what he did. A commendation from Sir John Monash (a great man in his own right), is certainly worth more than a few medals.