Almanac Life: Why April 26 is the real test
The education of our young in regard to our servicemen and women who sacrificed their lives has increased significantly over the last twenty years thanks to events like the ANZAC Day clash at the MCG.
In the twenty years prior to this, coinciding with the end of the Vietnam War, our veterans were a forgotten, cynical bunch whose presence at ANZAC parades was fading.
The Vietnam Vets in particular were treated poorly by the general public and government upon their return to Australia.
It wasn’t our war to fight and many of these guys were conscripted just like the naïve diggers of WW1 and WW2. They were shamed when they needed acknowledgement and help.
I joined the army almost by accident in 1980. My bosses were all Vietnam and Korean Veterans. They were firm but led by example. It was the way it was. If you didn’t walk the walk, you were quickly exposed and held accountable.
For some, the wars were too much and the army was a safe haven for life where they were given appropriate tasks to help the team. There was no formal psychological support available.
I was never a natural soldier. I worked on aircraft two hours from Brisbane and couldn’t wait to end the week to drive to Brisbane for footy training and a Sunday game, whilst my peers were knocking up home extensions and restoring cars!
When I was eighteen I was expected to do a very military thing. Go to Sydney for two weeks and do the Vic Barracks Guard. This entailed staying in Paddington standing guard out the front and completing two lunchtime ceremonies at the Cenotaph in Martin Place in Sydney’s CBD.
Martin Place at lunchtime is packed. I think there were six of us from around the country all done up in formal uniform shining like mirror balls.
We then went through the full ANZAC Observance Ceremony. The crowd was expected to be behind a white line on the pavement but a small child had snuck forward almost under my nose looking up at me.
At this stage I had my head down and an SLR rifle bayonet resting on the toe of my boot. Knowing that my next move on command was to flick the 8kg rifle up, reverse it and tuck it back to my shoulder, I was concerned I would connect with the kid.
I started whispering “piss off”, “get back” but to no avail. Suddenly the command, “shoulder arms!” came and I avoided decapitating the child by a couple of inches.
For decades I’ve tended to push these memories away because I was a bit embarrassed by them. The army training, especially at Kapooka embedded the values, behaviours and proud history of Australia’s military but I never felt like I was brainwashed.
Recently I was driving to friends in Newcastle and decided to stop in Canberra and visit the War Memorial to pay my respects.
I had just read the terrific biography of Neil Davis, the legendary Vietnam photo-journalist and was keen to see his tribute. Afterwards I stayed for the Last Post or ANZAC Observance Ceremony.
It was exactly like I had performed forty-odd years ago albeit with smaller weapons. It is performed most nights around the Pool of Remembrance and is dedicated to one fallen serviceman or servicewoman each night.
The photo of the fallen soldier is on an easel and members of that person’s family are invited to lay a wreath.
Accompanying the wreath laying is a bagpiper. I was OK to that point but I was suddenly overwhelmed by the emotion at the time that I started sobbing. I’m not a cryer so I can only put it down to old age and a sense of pride that I had served six years in the forces. Maybe a St Kilda premiership will be the next time.
I’ve been asked by friends and family for my thoughts on ANZAC Day. I personally don’t get involved in the day, preferring to pay my respects quietly.
It is a day of mourning for ex-servicemen and women and I definitely struggle watching the Observance Ceremony on the MCG.
I understand the curiosity of what’s occurring and the silence of 100,000 people etc but the thought of the AFL Executive with their noses in the trough behind the glass makes me uncomfortable.
Then there’s the jingoism and condescendence from commentators who suddenly become qualified war historians and go on and on about “how lucky we are for their sacrifice.”
So my question to Australians in regard to how lucky we are is:
“Just over 100,000 Australians were killed in all wars. What do you think they would say about our society today, the society they sacrificed their lives for?”
I reckon they’d be pretty disappointed don’t you?
We are world leaders in domestic violence, alcohol consumption and gambling addiction. We are almost on par with the US as the most obese country in the world.
We have been unable to truly acknowledge and reconcile with our First Nations People despite the fact that they put their hands up as Australians to fight in all the conflicts.
We are a country that has incredible resources and wealth but we have so called political leaders who don’t possess vision and leadership to produce world’s best practice in areas such as the environment. It’s all short term self-interest.
Our juvenile crime is reaching ridiculous proportions as are the nature of the crimes. Incarcerating kids doesn’t work and neither does giving them bail.
Lynda and I just returned from hiking in World Heritage Wilderness in Tassie. I couldn’t help but think that this was the environment to take juveniles for a couple of months. If one of our many billionaires wanted to leave a legacy for our future, they could fund a camp for kids and teach them bush skills, put them to work, provide decent nutrition, remove social media and employ professionals to manage the place for better outcomes.
So if you are genuinely moved by our fore-fathers sacrifice, rather than seeing ANZAC day as an event, like a Taylor Swift concert, see April 26th as a day to ask yourself “what will be my legacy?”
How can I make a difference in my community? What can I do differently in my life in order to help others? How can I make sure I do everything with integrity? Why am I sweating the small stuff?
Don’t leave the passion behind on April 25th. April 26th and beyond are about walking the walk and make our fallen proud.
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About Ian Wilson
Former army aircraft mechanic, sales manager, VFA footballer and coach. Now mental health worker and blogger. Lifelong St Kilda FC tragic and father to 2 x girls.
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This really makes my blood boil. The servicemen of Vietnam conflict were not treated badly by the Australian public. It was just that Australia finally moved on from being a pick me for the Americans as they were under the McMahon and Holt governments. They were, just like World War One, largely forgotten. There was no point in poncing around Mt Hagen in a white safari suit when Papua-New Guinea was independent.
The woe is me poor vets nonsense came from that slimy little weasel, John Howard, who rejected Australia’s growing independence in order to once again go in lockstep with the Americans after 9/11. And once again the Land of Hope and Glory boys involved us with not one but two conflicts that had very little to do with us. Every ANZAC day is a free advert for the Liberal and Country Parties, even though they will not acknowledge the harm they have caused over the years.
I disagree wholeheartedly re the treatment of veterans upon their return because I worked with them and I find your woe is me comment highly distasteful. Where you get that from I’ll never know and frankly dont care, but I can assure you that the many Vets I worked with both in service and after my time as a contractor to the defence force rarely spoke of Vietnam and would find your comments highly insulting. The men I know are humble, brave and are still dealing with the memories. Perhaps you should read the actual context of the story regarding making changes to yourself in order to help others.
I agree we were always dragged into wars by the Crown.
I was there mate, in 1975, when the vets and their fellow travelers sought a terrible revenge for losing the Vietnam war – dismissing a duly elected government. I remember the outrage when Whitlam abolished conscription and forgave those in jail for refusing to go into the army. i remember the outrage when a delegation from north vietnam turned up in canberra in 1974
I was there outside parliament house when the conservatives overthrew the government. I was there, threatened with physical violence by these humble men at a Liberal party rally, including that paragon of honesty Phil Lynch.
I was there when the new member for Canberra, John Haslem declared war on his own constituents and replaced public servants, including my father, with cops. This was in a low crime area. it just led to a local recession.
I was there during the 7 years of the most useless government Australia ever had. I remember people criss crossing the country looking for work.
I was there when some silly cow told me that her husband fought to save me. No he didn’t, he wasted his time.
I stand by my statement that welcoming the troops home was a cynical stunt by John Howard.
I stand by my statement that the vets helped overthrow the government, just as they did with the Lang government in the 30s.
As for you, what part of Australia is Vietnam, or Iraq, or Afghanistan or even the good old USA.
Ok George if that’s your real name, I’m getting the picture. You talk about woe is me? My God.
Again you’ve missed the entire context of the story, but in a very succinct way, confirmed the premise.
Lovely speaking with you.
Again, like the Vietnam war, you wasted your time.
My mothers five uncles saw action during the ‘Great Trade War’. For King and Country; I doubt it. They were poor boys from the Riverina, boys who were in Australia because the British had ravaged their country, and their ancestors were part of the Irish diaspora ‘down under’. Four of them came home, all damaged.
During the ‘ Great Trade War’, the Federal Government twice tried to introduce conscription for overseas service; twice Australia voted NO. Why don’t we hear about this, how come this example of democracy does not get celebrated in the Anzac mythology: an inconvenient truth?
Glen!
Thanks Glen. Where we live now in Ballarat you don’t have to travel far to see and hear the stories from the surrounding towns whose male populations were virtually wiped out by volunteers to the wars. Yes the vote is never spoken of. Cheers
Nice work Ian. I.enjoyed this reflective and well considered article.
Fantastic well considered article -Ian like you shaking my head in disbelief re -George – thank you
Interesting and thoughtful piece on an important subject. Thanks, Ian.
So the “there” George talks of is just Canberra in 1975? Really?
You think Nui Dat was tough? It had nothing on the forecourt of old Parliament House!
Canberra had a population of around 170k in 1975 but somehow 500k were on the steps that day.
Woe is you George.
I was proud to be a participant in the ceremony to open the Vietnam Veteran’s Memorial in Canberra in October 1992.
The Vietnam vets I encountered in my time were cynical, and hard as f*ck, without a hint of woe is me.
Moving on from that flog, a lot of your piece resonated with me.
I can’t do the Dawn Service these days and tend to avoid the pre-game ceremonies.
(Although I did attend the Remembrance Day ceremony at Hobart’s Cenotaph last year to honour a relative who sailed from Hobart to die at Gallipoli.)
I have permanent reminders in my house of the relatives lost at Gallipoli and Sattleberg (PNG) so that I can reflect on them throughout the year.
I can’t speak for Robert the merchant seaman from WW1, but I reckon Clem the young bloke who grew up in the depression, and laboured on the (dirt poor) family farm before dying in the PNG jungle aged 22 may be disappointed with the way things have turned out. Then again Robert’s Austro-Hungarian/Croatian/Who Knows merchant seaman father did jump ship at Port Adelaide to start a family in a new land (and sent 3 sons to fight for his adopted homeland in WWI). He may be bemused at the current attitude on all sides towards illegal immigrants, especially those arriving by boat.
Never bet against self-interest. I see it in action every day, and am always left thinking ‘how much is enough?’.
I can confirm that ‘Reverse Arms’ is far easier to perform, and teach, with the Steyr than the SLR. That said, the SLR is a far better looking parade arm.
Fine piece Ian. I agree with 90% of what you say, and the other 10% is why we have a democracy.
I have never gone in for bagging politicians. Having worked with them and around them – good and bad – I see them as a reflection of society. We are want the good things, but we aren’t prepared to sacrifice anything to get them. Most see the world through the lens of self interest.
Hence capital gains tax exemptions are sacrosanct and the majority want tax deductions for unproductive investment like negative gearing on investment properties. Everyone wants more affordable housing but no-one wants the value of THEIR house or investment to decline.
My greatest love is reading and listening to history podcasts. You can see the future in the echoes of the past. History just isn’t compellingly taught. So our kids think they are the centre of the universe and anything more than 10 years old is irrelevant.
I was a student delegate in 1973 to the National Union of Students. Not one of those many students spoke ill of the Vietnam vets, it was yesterday’s cause. They were more concerned with Palestine, for which we were punished by the conservatives, South Africa, feminism and Land Rights. In 1986 I studied a paper on the acquisition of land in Bathurst for an army base. My fellow student, an army type, was just as dismissive about my research as the usual army priesthood. The people who opposed the war were proved right, you lot were proved wrong.
The author was 11 years old when the government changed and we ceased our role in Vietnam forever. He was 8 when the troops were brought home in dribs and drabs in 1970. He was 13 in 1975 when the Liberals took back their kingdom by force – so much for defending democracy. How would he know what was going on. Were you in primary school Greggy boy or in cadets? Guess what, other people in this country have differing views to that little weasel Howard.
How dare you call me a flog you jingoistic scumbag. How can you junior cadets know what happened in 1975 when you weren’t there? My father served in World War 2, my grandfather died in 1930 from effects of WW1 and my grandmother was refused a widows’ pension for years. But I’m not an expert on WW1 and WW2 because I wasn’t around. The fact that the country moved on in 1972 had stuffall with you lot losing in Vietnam.
Cheers Georgie.
Just for the record, I am not a Howard supporter. Never have been, never will be.
I am also an opponent of our involvement in the Vietnam War. I was did not support our involvement in he wars in Irag and Afghanistan, but supported our men and women who went sent there as part of their service.
Also, I was never in the cadets. I served in the Australian Regular Army. The full-time adult Army. The carrying real guns Army.
And don’t call me a “jingoistic scumbag”. That’s weak as piss. Just call me a cunt. I’m fine with that.
On that note I will apologise for calling you a flog, plus thinking that you were a lying dickhead.
I will accept that you were not lying about being in Canberra.
Still a dickhead though.
Have a good one old son!
Over and out.
Just picking up the whistle here.
Or not.
In general, please play the ball, not the man.
You all know what I mean.
JTH
For me, the reality is that wars have happened.
And that, no matter why they’ve happened, and no matter why citizens have become involved (topics worthy of analysis), the subsequent impact has been massive.
Consider the socialisation of young Australian men in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. They were being prepared to defend the Empire and the nation. Look at the descriptions in school annuals of the various codes of football – Aussie rules and rugby in particular – and their intent is to produce young men of duty and pluck.
Or, those of Irish heritage were cautioned not to fall into the trade war of the British.
Many of those young men were killed.
So, for me, the key question became how the community dealt with the all-consuming grief. Grief was real. Individual and private grief ran so deeply that communities began to realise that people needed to deal with the grief collectively – to acknowledge that depth of upset and to share the burden.
Hence ANZAC Day.
That grief was not going to go away. It defined a generation. And generations.
Wembley Stadium was built for the 1928 Olympic Games. It also became the home of the FA Cup. Apparently, when surveyed about a song which might be part of the FA Cup Final program, the British (English?) community chose ‘Abide with me’, a funeral hymn (of comfort). The choice was a pointer to the grief of the time.
Every Australian town has a monument to The Fallen.
Perhaps in all of these things there is a sense that such acknowledgement was vital, even though the reality is that war is futile.
I cannot imagine losing my son Theo to conscripted service in a war that means nothing, but serves the interests of the powerful (however disguised). Please, God.
Thank you, Ian
I am listening.