ANZAC Day 2024

Thoughts for ANZAC Day service

By Drew Chislett

Key theme: The contrast of War. Alongside the rising of such great evil came the rising of great good.

I am unqualified to speak on War……. but I am qualified to speak as a beneficiary of someone else’s sacrifice.

I have never been to war, never faced atrocities of war, terror of POW camps, never had to try and GET ON WITH LIFE following war.

But I have lived in freedom and peace in a country with ideals and a way of life because someone else was willing to risk everything on my behalf.

My connections to War:

1916 Georg Claus Voege (Major Colin Cameron) at the age of 15 convinced his mother to falsely claim he was 18 and that his father was dead so he could go off and fight in WW1. After refusing for some time, she gave in over the threat that if she didn’t allow him, he would head to WA to be never heard from again. His mother decided that at least the army would inform her of his whereabouts, so she gave in and he completed his training and only a month after turning 16 was posted to the Camel Corp in Egypt then on to the 4th Light horse regiment.

During his time in the Middle East, he took part in the Charge of Beersheba and also in the ES Salt battle where he was wounded. He carried a machine gun bullet in his lower spine till the day he died.

After the war he returned to Digby but was unable to settle so moved to WA and became first a shearer, then bought a dairy farm in the hills of Mount Helena. He married and had 3 daughters by 1940 and had never lost his love for the Light Horse and joined the Mt Helena Troop as part of the Citizens Military Force.

In 1937 he was chosen to be part of the Australian Contingent for the coronation of King Georg VI and stood guard on Buckingham Palace which he regarded as “one of the highlights of his life.”

In December 1940 he was seconded from the 10 LHR to the 2/4 Machine Gun Battalion and once again lied about his age this time putting it down and also enlisting the help of his Dr to inject pain blockers around his machine gun wound so he could pass the medical!!

The battalion was sent to Singapore in January 1942 and he was promoted to Major Colin Cameron. He was the officer in charge of C Company and unfortunately after surrendering became a prisoner of War and after a brief spell in Changi he spent the remainder of the war on the infamous Burma railway and in 11 different POW camps.

Fittingly for an old soldier he passed away in the dawn of ANZC Day 1968 while getting ready to attend the Dawn Service and March which he never missed. He was only 67 and died 5 months before his birthday.

Doubt the skills of a farmer

GREATER LOVE HATH NO MAN – DARWIN DEC. 1941

‘Twas way up north, up Darwin way that Cameron held the beach

And built roads of wood “cross muddy clay so the gun posts he could reach.

To Palmer’s Beach he built a road and he laid it log by log,

With bulsh, his men he used to goad, with his tongue – the bludgers flog.

One day he got the Colonel’s ear, quoth he “I want a boat Sir, instead of

Working like this ‘ere, I’ll put the loads afloat, Sir.

So the Colonel went to find a craft and he hunted high and low,

To find one pointed, fore nd aft, so that both ways it could go.

Said he, “Col’s just a farmer’s man, he won’t know stem from stern,

So if on one bank this ark he ran. He wouldn’t have to turn.”

To Palmer’s Beach from Fanny Bay was twenty miles by sea,

Said the Colonel “it’s a damn long way, a stout man we want”, said he.

So called to him his little John and said “John, hunt around, we want

A man who’s off the Swan to take this boat around.”

Said John “They’re all off Swan Sir, they’re drinking Foster’s now.”

And the Colonel yelled “Swan River, not beer you stupid cow.

A man who’s sailed upon the Swan, a dinkum yachting bloke,

A man I can depend upon, not a ruddy Swan Beer soak.”

So they hunted thru the yachtsmen, to see who ought to go,

They sorted and they sifted them and said “George Gwynne will go.”

Now Georgie was a skipper bold, he’d sailed in calm and swell,

A jib hand in the freezing cold, and bludged on the sheet as well.

He was not a very hefty lad, about knee high to a duck,

But he’d take a boat to Hell and back and never pass the buck.

So George sat down to plan the trip and studied all the maps.

He picked a crew to man the ship, some pretty hefty chaps.

He charted all the channels deep, and rocks that he could smash on,

Took blankets for the men to sleep, but forgot his two day’s ration.

They told Georg ‘fore he started that the boat he’d have to row,

But does Georg do things halfhearted, no, he soon arranged a tow.

‘Twas on of the mosquito fleet, they picked to do the job,

With Diesel engine all complete that they had a healthy throb.

They also carried two stout masts and a decent load of rag,

To help her when the tide ran fast and the engine start to drag.

So off they set to Palmer’s Beach with Georgie’s boat in tow,

But somebody forgot to teach what makes the Diesel go.

For when they got up near Lee Point, the engines felt the pinch,

the whole damn thing was out of joint and wouldn’t budge an inch.

So the P.O. got his little book, checked the causes one by one, but

Couldn’t find a paragraph to make the diesel run.

So Georgie watched them fool around and cursed them long and hearty,

Said he, “I’ll sail this tub around or give a garden party.

Stand to, my lads, slap on the rag, heave up the ruddy hook,

I can’t stop here like a ruddy shag while you read the ruddy book.

They sailed along while the breeze was good and when it stopped, they’d drift,

While the P.O. battled all he could but the Diesel wouldn’t shift.

Herewith the tides, therewith the breeze, miles and miles they went,

With George at the helm, quite at his ease as though on pleasure bent.

At last they got near Palmer’s Beach, within four miles or so,

But found the shore they couldn’t reach ‘cause the wind had ceased to blow.

And there they lay, no help to hand, on the heaving tropic swell, while Colin

And his gallant band kept flashing the B.E.L.

Now Col got tired of waiting ‘round and cursed the boat and Gwynne,

Said he “The blighter might get drowned if I don’t bring him in.”

So he roused the local fisherman, and sailed into the night,

Six feet two of the Cameron clan to rescue the nautical mile.

Whenever this yarn in Mess is told, George hangs his head in shame,

To think that a Scottish farmer bold had to (gang and brung him hame).

But Colin is not so bashful, he tells the tale with glee, of how he rescued

The Admiral from death in the mighty sea.

And that’s the yarn he tells today, he sticks to it like a leech,

And the spot is still, up Darwin way, but they call it Cameron’s Beach.

At sea – January 1942.

Roy Herbert Charles Squires.    Grandmothers brother,

Reported missing presumed dead after fighting at Tobruk with the 2/24th Infantry battalion, 1st of May 1941. Buried in Egypt.

Family never heard what happened to him until just recently while researching for this speech.

My Grandmother Dorothy Carruthers and her half brother Peter MacIntosh. Fought in WW2.

Peter was born in Scotland and arrived in Australia to promptly turned around to head off to War in June of 1940.

Serving first in Tobruk before following on into the Syria-Lebanon campaign, Peter was then later deployed to Java where he was captured and held as a prisoner of War in numerous camps and worked amongst other things on the Burma Thai railway until 1945 (3years).

Dorothy served as a telephonist based out of Cairo for the British forces.

22 young men farewelled from Mologa,

Tom Alford, James Dillon, Charles Fyffe, David Fyffe, Alf Ferris, Tom Gray, Amos Haw, Knowlson Haw, Ewen Johnston, William Leed, Allan Marlow, Percy Marlow, Hugh Martin, Andrew Price, John Ryan, Michael Ryan, Herb Street and Wilsie Townsend.

Especially those who didn’t return:

Charlie Marlow, George Marlow, Albert Marlow, Will Street, Les Townsend, Jack Price, Ray Leed, Robert Campbell, Pat Ryan and Daniel O’Sullivan.

John Theodore Price – 1980 – killed at 19 in France. After 14 days of battle and through multiple sickness including mumps.

Marlow Brothers on the western front. WW1

Poem by Peter MacIntoschs son for his father

My dad said Son,

As he wished me well on my 35th birthday

Without a hug or a tear

His question quite clear

How do you think I spent the same birthday?

It was a sobering thought of which I have spent nought.

The question he asked in a quiet way

The answer he gave I remember to this day

I was on the Burma-Thai Railway

I think of that day and the wisdom of age

And what it means to be free

The answer sublime of a terrible time

Given simply by my dad to me

In the brutality of war, we see the worst of humanity and the best of humanity.

John 15:13 Jesus himself said:

There is no greater love than to lay down your own life on behalf of another.

The ultimate act of love is to place your own life before others

To stand in the gap between evil and good and take all the attacks (40-50m ww2)

Why do we take the time to remember?

For what has been done for us

Our world would have been a very different place if someone didn’t stand        

Against the powers that would seek to take our freedom, ideals and way of life

Prosperity

Opportunity to be authentic

Movement

Protected from the atrocities of war

To remind ourselves of the values that hold us together when things are hard.

In times of desperation the things that matter rise to the surface

So much of what we argue about does not matter (I have teenagers)

Values of selflessness and mateship are what has won our wars and made

our communities and we must never forget them

we must choose to live out those same values if we want to win today

To honor and respect the lives that gave all on our behalf,

   Sacrifice some of their best years

   Sacrificed their innocence and humor

   Sacrificed their peace

   Sacrificed their health

   Sacrificed their lives

Returning home speech by John Robinson.

Fellow POW with Major Colin Cameron.

Finally, I would like to ask everyone to keep smiling, for these days of post-war uncertainty will soon clear. Countless millions saw the Union Jack torn from its position and replaced by symbols of hate and tyranny, and only the blood and determination of free peoples restored it to its old glory.

If you had been (and thank God you were not) subject to a foreign flag, I am certain you would agree with me when I say our own is the most precious emblem in our possession.

Lest We Forget is the anthem that will continue to echo from the Cenotaph on ANZAC Days, but homage will not discharge our obligations unless we take care to preserve the ideals and freedom for which they fell, and above all things, to care for their loved ones.

I commend you to unfurl the flag over your homes – over your schools, and over your public buildings, for ‘tis the embodiment of Cenotaphs and the Beacon of Freedom.

Together we must care for the bereaved – together we must maintain the spirit of co-operation learnt during war years – and if ever a doubt should creep into our minds that all is not well, walk over to the mast and give the cord a little tug, just to make sure the Union Jack is right to the top.

Lest We Forget.