Mellowing

Last Friday, the day after Anzac Day, at writing class, a discussion was had re the dawn service at Anzac Cove, which is of course held on the anniversary of the first landing on Turkish shore in 1915, in line with Anzac Day services held all over Australia.

Teacher Maria presented an opinion piece by a writer whose name escapes me- there was a big crowd in for the first class of the term and not enough handout sheets and I was late so missed out- but from memory the guts of the article was that the correspondent had no desire to visit on the day to be among a crowd of tourists who were there largely for the celebratory party atmosphere and the 'notch on the belt'.

I sympathize with the author's view. I don't like crowds for starters and I have reservation about Anzac Day anyway as a means of paying respect and remembrance to our fallen soldiers. The Gallipoli campaign was the first major military exercise of our new nation and was a disastrous failure costing 8,000+ Australian lives. I don't for a moment dispute the hardship, grit and heroism of our soldiers. As a kid in school in the 50's and 60's Anzac Day it was drummed into me. The preparations at school must have happened the day before because I think it was a public holiday then as it is now, and I recall being home on Anzac Day watching the television and being fascinated by the historical portrayal of the landing and the stories such as Simpson and his donkey.

Memorial services and marches on Anzac Day were first held in the latter years of WW1 and were used as recruiting drives for enlistment. After the war the fallen were remembered in solemnity and the day was an opportunity for reunion for veterans wishing to participate. Many did not including my grandfather who served three years in Palestine and France and who was teetotal and disapproving of the boozing at the reunions.

World War 2 followed, then Korea, Vietnam, and Afghanistan and Iraq and peace keeping force participation in various parts of the world, and Anzac Day has been expanded to include all those who suffered and served in all of these conflicts.

At class last week one member, Big John, voiced his objection to the article, calling it the most pompous thing he'd ever read. Big John said the writer came across as thinking he was above the service at Anzac Cove with the throng of young people. John said, "Good on them I say, they are only trying to connect to their ancestors. I have been there, it's the most moving experience, one that changes the lives of those who attend forever."

I remain loathsome of violence and war and the flag waving patriotism that accompanies it, which is where it hatches from its egg. Yes, I would like to visit Anzac Cove. But not on Anzac Day. I'd like to go there to contemplate the horror and stupidity of war in my own solitude, and grieve for the soldiers who lost their lives and those maimed and scarred emotionally for life. Not only for the 8,700 Australians and the 2,000 plus New Zealanders killed, but also the 10,000 French, the 21,000 from the UK, and God knows how many Turks (Wikipedia does not give a number) who were, as God knows, protecting their shores from invasion.

But I doubt I ever will go there. I can grieve the fallen from here. And I prefer to carry my loathing of war and violence with me daily. I would prefer to see national reverence for Remembrance Day, which marked the end of the conflict, and is appropriately named.

However, I am mellowing. Big John is entitled to his opinion. So are those who choose to go to Anzac Cove on Anzac Day.

Just as I'm entitled to mine. I'm no wowser, but when I see retired Major General Cosgrove advertising beer on the television in the lead up to Anzac day, I can't help but feel I'm not in step. Thankfully.