Lest we forget

A photo posted by @jamjar on

Today is a public holiday here in New Zealand. We celebrate and remember our military forces who have been deployed throughout our history, with special dedication and rememberance to the veterans and casualties from the storming of the beaches at Gallipoli in what is now known as Turkey.

We call the 25th of April each year: ANZAC Day.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
— For the Fallen by Laurence Binyon

This year is particularly poignant as it has been 100 years since the Battle of Gallipoli. A military campaign that took the lives of tens of thousands of soldiers from Australia, New Zealander, Britain, France, India, and Newfoundland in a cluster-fuck landing on the Gallipoli peninsula. 

Saturday morning was clear and cool for those of us who made our way to Stockade Hill in Howick (Auckland, New Zealand) to attend the ANZAC Day Dawn Service.

Walking is always part of any Dawn Service, as people arriving by car need to park further and further away from the cenotaph as the streets fill with family groups, small children, older relatives coming to pay their respects of remembrance and lay flowers and wreaths for the fallen. It’s quite moving and solemn seeing so many people walking to the same point in our little corner of Auckland.

Joining the crowds gathering on Stockade HIll there is a reverent silence with the cenotaph bathed in red light and piercing the night sky. Out in the darkness a bass drum is struck. And then again. The rhythm of the march of veterans begins. A number are elderly, some in wheelchairs, all dressed in their uniforms pinned with medals, all making their way up the hill through the parted crowd. Up to the top - that lone bass drum striking their pass. 

The remembrance service started with a large gun fired from the Hill towards the sun rise. The smoke from the gun drifted back across the crowd and small child's voice aways behind me asked his Daddy “Is that what war smells like?”

The sky began to change from dark to purple, and warming on the horizon. We remembered the fallen; hear personal stories and accounts soldiers - Great Uncles and Great Grandfathers who died that day on the beach at Gallipoli; brushing tears away; sing hymns and anthems - first to the Queen, then the Australian, and then our own.

When the sun has fully risen, we break and leave Stockade Hill. Some remain longer to pay their respects or lay a wreath on the cenotaph. Many of the veterans go to their local RSA (Returned Services Association) to spend a day together. To share more stories; to remember their mates.

On ANZAC Day the shops stay closed and we spend time with our families. Our world and our country is the way it is today - privileged and beautiful - because of those men who died on those beaches one hundred years ago - and all those who have given their lives in service since. For all those who have fought and died and lived and built our country - we remember them.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.
— For the Fallen by Laurence Binyon

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Kei wareware tatou

Blue smoke goes drifting by into the deep blue sky
And when I think of home I sadly sigh
Oh I can see you there with loving tears in your eyes
As we fondly said our last goodbyes.
And as I sailed away with a longing to stay
I promised I’d be true and to love only you

Blue smoke goes drifting by into the deep blue sky
My memories of home will never die.
— Ruru Karaitiana's 'Blue smoke'

A photo posted by @jamjar on