The 25th of April has always been an incredibly special day for me. Ever since I was born in fact.
I’ve always had a special affinity for the Defence Forces of our nation. My dear Dad served with RAAF Reserve No.24 Squadron in South Australia and worked most of his life for the Department of Defence. My grandfather was in the RAAF, my Dad’s brother was in the RAAF, my Dad's sister worked for the Department of Defence. My Mum worked for the Department of Defence, and Mum and Dad met in the canteen at the old Department of Defence in the late 60's. Some of my most dearest friends come from Army, Navy or Airforce families.
Anzac Day is not only a day to remember those who have given their lives serving our country in the past, and indeed during that frightful landing at Gallipoli in 1915, but to spare a moment and give thanks to those serving our country today.
As Anzac Day rolled around this year, we found ourselves in the midst of a rather different world. Faced with new challenges, we were forced to change to rules about how we would honour our heroes. There was no Dawn Service to attend at the War Memorial, nor at the RAAF Base, nor at the RSL. Instead a new kind of commemoration was born this year. Dubbed “Light Up The Dawn”, we were encouraged to host our own service at the end of our own driveway and pay our private respects to the fallen war heroes of our past. United (but at a safe distance) neighbours right across Australia and New Zealand created a new spin on our old tradition.
Ironically just over a hundred years ago, a similar situation unfolded. After World War I, there were no great victory parades. In 1919, the Sydney Anzac Day parade was cancelled due to the influenza epidemic, “… which prevented people assembling in large numbers. A public commemorative service was held in the Domain, where participants were required to wear masks and stand three feet apart.”
There was something even more poignant about standing in solitude with just a lone glimmering candle on my little patch of land. I stood in silence, under the billions of stars in the inky darkness of pre-dawn, listening to crickets chirruping away. I glanced down my street and saw the flicker of several other candles, giving me a warm sense of belonging and pride, sharing this moment with people I haven’t yet met.
I stood by my Australian flag, proudly hung at my window, and listened to the abridged version of the Dawn Service on the ABC.
"They shall grow not 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."
The Last Post rang out and I looked up at the stars, tears streaming down my face. It always does that to me. Not more than a few seconds into the minutes silence, the local kookaburras awoke and began their raucous early morning laughter from the gum trees in the gully. It couldn’t get much more Australian.
The national anthems of both countries followed the Reveille and the sky changed to a soft lilac as the sun began its climb into the eastern sky.
105 years ago, more than 10,000 Australians and New Zealanders lost their lives over the eight month battle at Gallipoli. Maybe each one of those is now a twinkling star I shed a tear over.
And maybe this is how I’ll do Anzac Day next year. Alone in my own thoughts holding a candle to those who fought so bravely for our freedom.
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