Reflection on yesterday’s Anzac Dawn service

The call of a sole kookaburra and the carolling of magpies. Could anything be more Australian? Especially as we stand in the autumn chill, along with hundreds of others, readying for the Anzac Dawn Service at Blackboy Hill. The mood is subdued, punctuated only by the chatter of rugged-up children, sitting high on their fathers’ shoulders. These little ones are our future. What kind of world will they inherit? We hope for one of peace and prosperity, as we gratefully remember and respect the sacrifices of countless men and women in far too many wars.

A  star hovers above the arches of the memorial, brilliant in the still-dark. We all stand respectfully as first light appears from the east. A muffled drum sounds in the distance, as shadowy figures quietly enter, so silent they could be ghosts. The Last Post sounds, followed by the Oath of Remembrance. The shadowy figures are young people, scouts, who have camped overnight to participate on this one day of the year. As they lay wreaths, their soundtrack is the poignant skirl of bagpipes. A simple ceremony in one of the most significant sites in Australia’s wartime history.

Blackboy Hill, named for the prolific stands of grass trees on the site, is on the eastern outskirts of Perth and was the location of the training camp for Western Australian volunteers in World War One. Established just 12 days after the declaration of war in August 1914, it became home to more than 32000 young men and marked the birth of the AIF in this state. The 11th Infantry Battalion was one of the first to be raised to go to war and sailed from Fremantle after just weeks of training. Their story is the story of two enduring icons of the Anzac spirit: John Simpson Kirkpatrick and his donkey, and Peter Weir’s classic film ‘Gallipoli’.

As we stand in the footsteps of these brave soldiers, and those who followed them training here in subsequent wars, we remembered their sacrifices in sorrow. Anzac Day is no glorification of war – it is a powerful reminder of the destruction and waste of war. We think about Syria and brinkmanship and politicians who do not appear to have learned the lessons. And we weep.

Lest we forget.

Did you go to a Dawn service yesterday? What were your reflections?