And it is about Remembrance. A few years ago I refused to acknowledge ANZAC Day or a minutes silence on Remembrance Day, (I am very anti war as are most people I should imagine) and don't believe that we NEED to participate in the modern day conflicts. I could not understand the need to celebrate death and destruction.
It wasn't until my daughter, as a girl guide was asked to participate in the ANZAC service at Bridport. I went along with her and the man who spoke brought me to tears and I suddenly realised that we were not celebrating or condoning, we were simply remembering and acknowledging. We all know they should not have been there (wherever there is) but they were and we can't undo the past but we can respect those men and women and remember them for their courage and selfless acts.
Until recently I had known that I had great uncles who fought in the first world war. I hadn't looked into them too much. One was my father's uncle Chris. Family stories painted him as a hero and I had briefly looked at his record and scoffed at all the AWOL and hospital records and laughed at the folklore. However, this year I got to know Chris a little better through a box of correspondence saved by his mother and handed now to her daughter and eventually passed on to me. I read each letter, written from Ballarat, France, Belgium and England. I investigated his war records and those of his senior officers, to discover that Chris fought in some of the bloodiest battles in Europe that saw the biggest loss of lives for Australia. He was gassed twice and shot in the arm and face, yet still managed to come home. Chris lied about his age with his mothers permission, he was only just 15 when he signed up. I wrote briefly about Chris earlier this year and feel a closeness to him that is unusual as I never met him.
The last uncle to see action in world war one was Gordon Thomas Ellen, he was 23 and joined the 40th Battalion out of Claremont, Tasmania. He too saw action but only for six months before being wounded and having his leg amputated.
No matter the duration of service, all these men had the courage to stand up for what they believed in, they all saw action and no doubt were terrified. Should they have gone, probably not but I respect and remember them and their actions.
Lest we forget.
It wasn't until my daughter, as a girl guide was asked to participate in the ANZAC service at Bridport. I went along with her and the man who spoke brought me to tears and I suddenly realised that we were not celebrating or condoning, we were simply remembering and acknowledging. We all know they should not have been there (wherever there is) but they were and we can't undo the past but we can respect those men and women and remember them for their courage and selfless acts.
Until recently I had known that I had great uncles who fought in the first world war. I hadn't looked into them too much. One was my father's uncle Chris. Family stories painted him as a hero and I had briefly looked at his record and scoffed at all the AWOL and hospital records and laughed at the folklore. However, this year I got to know Chris a little better through a box of correspondence saved by his mother and handed now to her daughter and eventually passed on to me. I read each letter, written from Ballarat, France, Belgium and England. I investigated his war records and those of his senior officers, to discover that Chris fought in some of the bloodiest battles in Europe that saw the biggest loss of lives for Australia. He was gassed twice and shot in the arm and face, yet still managed to come home. Chris lied about his age with his mothers permission, he was only just 15 when he signed up. I wrote briefly about Chris earlier this year and feel a closeness to him that is unusual as I never met him.
I have two other uncles who also saw action in Europe briefly. James Ernest Thynne was in the 12th Battalion, out of Claremont Tasmania and saw action for only a short while until discharged injured. He was almost 19 when he signed up in 1916 and fortunately came home in 1919.
No matter the duration of service, all these men had the courage to stand up for what they believed in, they all saw action and no doubt were terrified. Should they have gone, probably not but I respect and remember them and their actions.
Lest we forget.
