Menin Gate At Midnight
‘Menin Gate At Midnight’ by Will Longstaff
It is only in the past fifteen years or so that I have attended the Williamstown ANZAC Day dawn service in front the cenotaph at the bottom of Ferguson St. I have come to the realization that the service is not a glorification of war, but rather an opportunity to pay a few silent minutes of respect to those servicemen and women who lost their lives in the Great War, and all conflicts which followed. And in that decade and a half, I have watched as the ANZAC Day crowds have grown, and grown younger.
As a nation, the teaching of our own history has never been a strength. I do not recall being aware of ANZAC Day as a child, aside from some brief primary school lessons. Australian history, and in particular Indigenous history, was not a huge part of the curriculum. For a short period in the 1970s, my family lived on the far south coast of New South Wales in a house which we believed to be haunted. There was no accounting nor explanation for the bumps, noises and footsteps that would wake us in the night. On the walls of this old dwelling hung a number of ancient paintings and prints, the most striking of which was a dark print featuring what appeared to be ghosts in front of an arched monument. Before we moved, the owner of the house offered the print to my mother as a gift. She demurred.
Just prior to my nascent interest in ANZAC Day, my wife and I journeyed to Canberra with our three young sons. I had heard much about the Australian War Memorial and was interested in visiting. It is a solemnly impressive shrine, and the museum houses a collection of art and artifacts. One painting in particular immediately grabbed my attention: a large landscape in blue hues featuring ghostly figures marching across a field adjacent to a memorial arch. Some thirty years later, I immediately recognized that a print of this painting was the one I had wondered about all those years ago. Named ‘Menin Gate At Midnight’, it was painted by the artist Will Longstaff after he returned from the opening of the Menin Gate Memorial in Ypres, Belgium in 1927. The memorial in Ypres commemorates those of the British Empire – including Australia – who lost their lives in WWI. I stood before it for some time, marvelling at the painting’s beauty. I have since discovered that Longstaff authorized 2000 prints, which he signed. I know that I stared in wonder at one of those no doubt very valuable prints when I was young.
Did ‘Menin Gate At Midnight’ stir within me a renewed interest in ANZAC Day? Quite possibly.
But I do know, four decades on, as I stood before that painting in the Australian War Memorial, marvelling at the meaning of the haunting marching apparitions, that I had finally solved the mystery of the ghostly midnight footfalls in the hallway of that old house.
You can read more from Smokie HERE.
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What a wonderful painting Smokie. The War Memorial has long held a special place for me. I can remember going there in the mid 60’s vague memories, but memories still.
When I was young Anzac Day was a solemn day, a day of commemoration. Quite a few of our family saw action. When you visit the War Memorial you go into the courtyard to see the names of the fallen: many thousands of them. I look at the walls, seeing forebears of mine. My eyes well up, as they do. Why would young boys from the Riverina go around the world to fight, die, for the Royal family that oppressed our family, and countryfolk for centuries?
Maryanne and I went across the ditch for the 2015 Carlton V St Kilda clash in Wellington. She was home , I was visiting our Anzac neighbours. Our day started very early, up in the dark to attend the dawn service, for which a huge crowd showed up. Incredibly moving, very proud being there. Then the footy: Carlton too strong for St Kilda.. The centenary of this disastrous invasion of another country was a big moment.
The nature of Anzac Day has changed, changed a lot the last few decades. When I was young it was a solemn event, a day to remember the fallen , as well as those who came back with all the damage war does. It was a day of commemoration. Now it seems like a celebration, with the bogans making their inane Aussie-Oi noise. Compounding this there are people who have a mystical, mythical ‘understanding’ of the April 25 invasion of Turkey. The want it as Australia’s national day. F F S ! There have been some great achievements made in Australia, some great gains for humanity. There are numerous days we can have as our national day. Invading another country at the behest of our ‘imperial masters’ is not one of them; being cannon fodder in a sordid trade war is nothing to celebrate. Commemorate.
Let’s commemorate the sacrifices of those who didn’t come back, as well as those who came back damaged. It’s just as important to realise during this sordid trade war twice plebiscites were conducted on introducing conscription: twice Australia voted no. This seems to be part of an inconvenient truth some people want to sweep under the carpet. Well it’s probably as important, if not important as the landing on April 25. It showed the Australian people wanted control over our destiny. Lest we forget.
Glen!
Great story layered with meaning Smokie. And a striking painting. Many thanks.
From an anti-Vietnam peacenik in my younger days, I have grown to a more nuanced view of the many reasons (good and bad) for war. And the tragic sacrifices of those who fight or get in the way of the fighting.
In Ken Burns’ doco on the American Civil War he records that the first big battle “Bull Run” was fought in 1861 in Virginia not far from Washington DC. The family that owned the land grew sick of harrowing up munitions and bodies after the soldiers left. They moved 100 miles south to escape the war and continue their wholesale grocery business supplying sugar to the armies. That new home was the old Appomattox Courthouse where Lee came to surrender to Grant in 1865. The owner recorded “the war began in my front yard and ended in my front parlour”. War leaves many haunted men and many ghosts to haunt us.
Evocative and timely piece, Smokie. I particularly liked the interplay between the prose and the picture.
Thanks for your comments, all.
Much appreciated.
Great read Smokie thanks .
Glen
Can’t agree it’s become a bogan day . Dawn services and also community services later in the day are attended by lot’s of younger people and I am always impressed by their grasp of the significance and their solemn approach to Anzac Day .
45 years ago when I was young Anzac Day held no significance for my group despite we all had grandfathers ,fathers ,uncles and aunts who had served . We never attended a service ,it was just another holiday . The youth of today have a better grasp of it than we ever did .
That is brilliant yet haunting picture Smokie.
The War Memorial is a great muesum and worth spending hours there.
If ever get a chance Menin Gate in Ypres service every night is a must see. I did tour there to see my Grandfathers brothers graves and saw where they were approx killed, just beautiful countryside it’s hard to think 100 years prior it was a war battlefield. There is great Muesum at Ypres as well. Villers-Bretanaux is the same, want to go back and see the Muesum that has being built since.
Thanks Smokie. Given the painting is set at midnight the light and optimism are amazing and surely central to viewing it. Great, timely piece.
Fabulous Smoke. Extraordinary painting.
I sometimes wish things could just be seen as they are. ANZAC Day, as you rightly say, is a day to remember and give thanks to those who fought to protect our freedoms . As they saw it. That’s it. Protest, arguments over its merits or otherwise are for another day.
I’ve always found it a peaceful day; quiet streets, no havoc. When they started playing footy on ANZAC Day it jarred with me. I’m still not entirely comfortable with it.
Thanks for this reflection.
Moving piece Smokie.
It seems that many of us have been conflicted by the conflict of wars gone by and the sacrifice of young Aussie men & woman on distant shores. It also seems that over time we get a new perspective – a time to reflect.
Well done, Smokie.
I went to Menin Gate in 2022, and toured the battlefields and cemeteries… the endless names and anonymities carved into stone will leave you aghast and confused and sad. I found a tree at Bullecourt near which an old friend’s father won the VC.
At the John Monash centre they have a room in which they replicate what it’s like to sit under a bombardment. How anyone came home remotely sane is beyond me.
PB, writing this from memory, but I think it was the first Battle of Bull Run where picnickers can out from Washington and spread rugs on the hillsides to watch the fun and rejoice as their boys in blue trounced the butternut lads and sent them skedaddling back south. The picnic ended badly, in a route, as they stampeded for town, having seen how cannons and Gattling guns transformed boys into other stuff that wasn’t boys.
Lest We Forget.