Anzac Day Commemorative Address RSL Castle Hill

6 mins read
The Hon. Dr Brendan Nelson AO
RSL Castle Hill Sub-branch

I was asked today to speak to you about 1918. But I’m not going to give you a history lesson. I think it’s far more important on these occasions to give a lesson of history.

Australian’s all let us rejoice, for we are young and free. We sing it often. We will sing it soon. But far less often we pause to reflect on what it really means.

With a sense of awkward humility, abiding reverence infused with overwhelming pride. We pause here, free and confident heirs to a legacy. Born of idealism, forged in self-sacrifice and passed now to our generation. And today as we will on Wednesday and similar days, we gather in renewed commitment to one another, to our nation, and the ideals of mankind. Young Australians and New Zealanders gave their all at Gallipoli. They forged in bloody sacrifice the bond in which our two nations now live.

Every nation has its story, ANZAC is our story and Anzac Day asks for every one of us what does it mean to be an Australian. And Anzac Day also answers that question.

As we just heard, N'oublions jamais l'Australie - Never forget Australia.

In large capital letters the admonition to generations of young French men and women, to never forget in the centre of the Victoria school in the French village of Viller Bretonneux the courage and sacrifice of young Australians, almost 100 years ago to the day. Vastly outnumbered, two Australian brigades fighting off a determined German counter attack in one of the most significant and bloody battles of 1918.

At its end, would be 1200 Australian dead, 1500 Australian wounded and Lieutenant Clifford Sadlier would be awarded the Victoria Cross. 

And when two German soldiers came forward under a white flag demanding the Australians surrender, Brigadier William Glasgow simply said, “Tell them to go to hell.”

Sergaent Walter Downing of the 57th Battalion, in the early hours of Anzac Day on the 25th of April, the burning houses casting a sinister light of the town of Viller Bretonneux. He wrote, ‘men muttered its Anzac Day; it seemed the only thing to do is go straight forward and die hard.’ And die hard they did.

A month later, General Sir John Monash would finally take command of the Australian core and the five divisions. And a series of stunning victories would ensue.

Le Hamel, Amiens, Mont St Quentin and the capture of Péronne, Monbrain, the breaking of the Hindenburg line and then on to victory.

And our young nation emerged victorious but inconsolably mourning, 62,000 dead. We would live with another 60,000 who would die within a decade of returning to Australia.

And in 1918, Australia had at more than any time in our history the most significant impact on international affairs. But we paid a heavy price. 117,000 Australians started the year in France, at its end 12,000 dead, 36,000 wounded, 12,000 gassed and 26 Australians would be awarded the Victoria Cross.

The official war correspondent Charles Bean, who would be appointed the official historian, had landed with the Australians at Gallipoli on the 25th of April. He stayed with them at the front, through the entire war, refused evacuation when he was wounded and then over 23 years would write and edit the official history of the First World War.

And at the very end of it all, having been witnessed to everything, with a blank page on his typewriter at his office of Collaroy he wrote "What these men did nothing can alter now. The good and the bad, the greatness and smallness of their story will stand … It rises, as it always will rise, above the mists of ages, a monument to great-hearted men; and, for their nation, a possession forever."

You just heard reference to the Tomb of the Unknown Australian Soldier. Exhumed from the Adelaide cemetery in France, near Villers Bretonneux and interred at the War Memorial at Remembrance Day in 1993. Standing silent sentinel above him are 12 stained glass windows. Each an image of an Australian from the First World War, men and women.

And at the bottom of each one is a single word. Charles Bean, the first Director a man called John Treloar a veteran of both Gallipoli and France, asked themselves a very important question.

 “What,” they asked “are the values, the virtues we saw in these men and women we regard as being essential. Not just for in victory in battle but for depth and breadth of character.”

To young Australians here, character derives from the Greek word, means the impression left in wax by a stone seal ring. The Greeks called in the stamp of personality. And what informs character are worthwhile intrinsic virtues, values.

Character transcends everything in life, rank, power, money, influence, intellect and looks.

Those fifteen seen in these men and women:

Resource, to dig deep.

Candour, to be open and honest.

Under the nurse facing directly down Anzac Parade to the Parliament, devotion. To completely subsume yourself into the people and the cause to which you have committed.

Curiosity, always ask questions and never accept uncritically what you’ve been told.

Independence, know when to stand aside from a mob.

Comradeship, in the end what you’ll need most is one another.

Ancestry, you never forget from where you came, who gave you what you have and made you who you are.

Patriotism, chivalry, a willingness to help others irrespective of the cost to yourself.

Loyalty, coolness and control, know when not to speak and when not to act. Audacity, nothing in your life will be achieved of value without taking a risk.

Endurance, you never give up.

And decision, ultimately you have to make decisions and you have to be responsible for them.

On the 23rd of August 1943, 56 bombers were shot down over Berlin. One was a Halifax bomber from 158 Squadron; the pilot was a 21 year old Australian Flight Lieutenant Kevin Hornibrook. The aircraft had been shot down by German night fighter and it was in a death dive.

The two gunners were dead, three crew had bailed out, the only other person left in the aircraft was a man called Alan Bright, he was the bomb aimer. And Bright said, “That against immense gravitational forces Hornibrook got to the forward hatch, managed to get it open and push Bright out of the plane.” And Bright said, “Kevin died, the plane was too low for him to get out. My life hinged on that moment but he pushed me out of the plane.” He said, “When my son was born in 1951, I called him Kevin. To remind me every single day that he could have saved himself but he saved me. And it reminds me,” he said, “of what it means to be an Australian”.

The most fragile, yet powerful of human emotions is hope. We all have to believe in a better future. Better tomorrow. Better next year. Not so much for ourselves but those of whom we love, our community and our country.

And what most sustains hope is men and women who reach out in support of one another. Who keep going, even when gripped by fear.

The paradox of this day, of Anzac Day, of the Australian War Memorial, is not actually about war. It’s in a context of war, but this day we here; we are here to celebrate love and friendship. Love for friends, between friends, love of family and love of our country.

And through the RSL here and throughout our country, to imbue in you the next generation the understanding that what you will need most is one another, to face the world as free, confident, and compassionate young Australians. Imbued with the qualities that inform character, that come from the Anzac story of courage, endurance, sacrifice and mateship.

For we are young and we are free.

Lest we forget. 

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