Anzac Day

Today is Anzac Day. It is a day when diggers, old and young, gather to march down the streets of major cities to the cheers of a grateful nation.

It is a day when those diggers reunite with soldiers from their battalions to reminisce, to play two-up, to mourn the loss of comrades, to toast victories and defeats. It is a day of sadness and joy.

On this day, in 1915, the Australian and New Zealand Army Corp joined the British, Canadians, Indians and others to storm the beaches at Gallipoli in Turkey.

The landing and subsequent fighting proved disasterous to the allied troops, but in that mud and blood and death an Australian legend was born. It was the first major confrontation for the Australian Infantry Force (AIF).

Yes, Australian troops had fought in the Boer War, but it was a purely volunteer group and before Federation.

This year is special to this family because we found an ancestor who was at Gallipoli.

Growing up, one of my best friend's great uncle was there and Quinn's Post was named after him - a fact that we were smugly reminded of every Anzac Day. As far as I knew, my grandfathers fought in France, not at Gallipoli. Somehow, it seemed... not as important, though as an adult, I know well the contributions they made were no different to those at Gallipoli.

The conditions were just as bad, the waste of lives just as great and the heroic actions just as astonishing as those on the Gallipoli Penisula.

So, tonight I'm raising my glass to all those who fought bravely during all the wars this country has engaged in - from the Boer War to Iraq and Afghanistan; and I give my thanks they were there to defend this nation and the ideals on which it was founded.

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FYI, there's another story up over at The Takeaway, should you be interested.