25 April: Boreham on ANZAC

The Glory of ANZAC
The outstanding feature of Anzac Day is that it is so typically Australian. The dominant characteristics of Australian life are inextricably woven into its observance. The breath of the bush is on it. In no other country is there anything exhaling the same atmosphere and marked by the same spirit. The entire pageant of Australian history is reflected, as in a cameo, in that memorable episode at Anzac Cove. The average Australian thinks of Gallipoli much as the average American thinks of Gettysburg. "We cannot," exclaimed Lincoln, as, standing on that blood-drenched soil, he delivered the most famous oration of all time, "we cannot dedicate, cannot consecrate, this ground. The brave men who struggled here have consecrated it for ever. It is for us to dedicate ourselves to the cause to which they here gave the last full measure of devotion; it is for us to resolve that these men shall not have died in vain." That responsive quality in human hearts which has immortalised that presidential utterance is the very quality that will lead us all to honour today the sufferings and sacrifices of the Anzacs.

These young stalwarts gave all that it is possible for men to give, and gave it gladly. As Mr. John Masefield, the Poet Laureate, has finely said: "To the Anzacs, in the blazing sun, or the frost of the Gallipoli night, death seemed a relaxation and a wound a luxury. These were the end they asked, the reward they had come for, the unseen cross upon the breast. They went like kings in a pageant to the imminent sacrifice. All was beautiful in that gladness of men about to die; but the most moving thing was the greatness of their generous hearts." The landing on those splintered hillsides and wind-swept beaches will always be remembered with pride as having demonstrated the fact that Australia cherishes all those traditions of selflessness, of chivalry, of knightliness, and of passionate patriotism that we associate with the British spirit; whilst the reverent commemoration of its deathless renown by succeeding generations proves that the Australian people are resolved to maintain the same lustrous ideals as long as time endures.

Australian Annals Sanctified By Sacrifice
It is in keeping with the entire epic of Australian history that the stately records of the first Anzac Day should be tinted with the crimson hue of sacrifice. Those who have stood beside Mr. Gladstone's monument in the Strand, gazing up at the noble entrance-hall of Australia House, must have been impressed by a magnificent group of statuary, the work of Mr. Harold Parker, the Queensland sculptor. It is entitled "The Awakening of Australia," and its fine conception and faultless execution have arrested he attention and excited the admiration of many thousands of passers-by. Australia is represented as a female figure stretching herself as she rises from her long, deep slumber. At her feet, carved in the pedestal of the main statue, are two male figures. One represents the explorer—fresh, robust, eager, and alert—about to embark on his high adventure. The other represents the same explorer, utterly exhausted, committing his bones to the trail that he has blazed.

Mr Parker probably intended these striking figures as emblems of that subtle but inescapable and persistent element of sacrifice that marks the entire Australian saga. Rudyard Kipling has reduced the epic to nervous and telling rhyme:

As the deer breaks, as the steer breaks, from the herd where they graze,
In
the faith of little children, we went on our ways.
Then the wood failed, then
the food failed, then the last water dried;
In the faith of little children
we lay down and died:
In the sand drift, on the veldt side, in the fern scrub
we lay,
That our sons might follow after by the bones on the way.

From its very dawn, the whole of Australian history has been consecrated by the shedding of valiant blood. Will Longstaff has skilfully portrayed "The Ghosts of Menin Gate"; but, to those who have eyes to see, every Australian highway is haunted by the gallant ghosts of the pioneers. In the centre of each crowded street there stands an invisible altar on which has been offered a hecatomb of noble victims, a holocaust of sacrificial blood. The Anzac story is the crowning incident in that affecting pageant.

As soon as the exploit was achieved, four and thirty years ago, Sir Owen Seaman penned the famous poem in he characterised the Anzac as "the bravest thing God ever made," and, whilst the years have enabled us to view the stirring episode in a calm perspective that was impossible three decades ago, they have by no means lessened the just pride that Australia takes in the poet's generous and lyrical tribute. The immortal happenings at Anzac Cove must be viewed against the spacious background of the centuries. The history of the evolution and development of the British Empire is, far and away, the most imposing and variegated romance that has ever been written. In that impressive and colourful drama the epic of Anzac takes its fitting place, and its glory is all the greater when viewed as an integral part of that stately and magnificent whole.

Novelty Keeps Tryst With Antiquity
The story is familiar but can never become threadbare. In the hour of the world's crisis, in 1914, the youth of this great Commonwealth sprang to arms, sinewy young Australian stalwarts camped under the shadow of the Pyramids, where sixty centuries frowned curiously down upon these strange warriors from lands lying beneath the Southern Cross. They sailed among the storied isles of Greece, hoary antiquity being startled by this singular invasion of historic novelty. It was a fresh version of the contrast between Dignity and Impudence—the grandeur of antique civilisations seeming to sniff at the impertinence of nations still in their swaddling clothes. And there, at length, on Gallipoli, the Anzac faced the Turk—the youngest nation on the face of the earth confronting a nation for whose long-forgotten annals one must turn to the crumbling monuments, archaeological urns and deeply-burned tablets of a dim and distant yesterday.

The moral of all this is crystal clear. It rests as a solemn obligation upon those who can recall the thrilling events of 1915 to mingle the recital of that deathless story with the heroic records of our more recent struggle. The two noble odyssies must be blended, and presented in unison, for the benefit of those who are too young to recall the drama and tragedy of Anzac Cove. Neither the epic of 1914 nor that of 1939 need be rehearsed as a glorification of war. If the accent be rightly placed it will make the rising generation realise the frightful toll that war exacts. It ruthlessly destroys the finest and the best—the men of whose splendid progeny the future is cruelly deprived. The most sublime sacrifice ever made was made to bring peace and goodwill into the hearts and homes of men; and the sacrifices of the Anzacs will have been well worth while if they lead subsequent generations to adjust their differences in a spirit of brotherhood rather than by a reckless resort to the agonising arbitrement of the sword.

F W Boreham

Image: ANZAC Cove