My Experience with the ANZAC's
Hello, hello! Today I thought thought I could share with all of you my experiences with the ANZAC's. For readers outside of Australia and New Zealand, ANZAC stands for Australian and New Zealand Army Corps which operated in the First World War or the Great War. In 2012, I was extremely fortunate enough to be selected as part of the Lest We Forget project and Footsteps of Honour tour, which was a two week overseas trip in order to commemorate Australian soldiers who had died in battle during the War. The group, which consisted of 30 other peers, was a project created and maintained by Michael Goodwin, a History teacher of Mackay North State High School. Goodwin created the project in 1999 and took select students to Turkey, Belgium, France and Singapore to commemorate those soldiers. At the time of writing, he has continued to do so for many years, the latest tour which is now being set for a 2021 departure. Goodwin has naturally been awarded the very deserving Order of Australia Medal as well as the 2020 ANZAC of the Year award. I am deeply honoured to know such a man and be a part of his extreme dedication and motivation for the ANZAC's.
I'm writing about this now, 8 years after I have traveled the world to see soldiers because of something that made me realise how much of an impact it had on me, despite not thinking about it for many years. On August 12th 2020, Queen Elizabeth II, approved the Victoria Cross of Australia Medal, the highest award in the Australian Honour System. for a one Teddy Sheean. The Australian Victorian Cross Medal is given to those "who in the presence of the enemy have shown acts of the most conspicuous gallantry, or daring or pre-eminent acts of valour or self-sacrifice or display extreme devotion to duty." Many people have thought that Sheean deserved this award many years ago, but the government would never allow it, until this 2020 inquiry. Let me tell you why he deserved it much earlier.
Sheean joined the Royal Australian Naval Reserve in 1941 before completing his training and being assigned to his ship, the HMAS Armidale, in 1942. Here, he took sail to be a prat of an operation in Betano in Timor. From the get go, he suffered tough odds, being attacked by Japanese planes and missing the first rendezvous with another ship, but eventually meeting up further out to coast. Having the plans go awry, the HMAS Armidale was ordered to return the Benato the following night, leaving her in open enemy water. In the mid-afternoon, the Armidale was hit by two aircraft-launched torpedoes and began to sink fast. The order for abandon ship was given and, after helping others and boats get free, Sheean did not. Instead he stayed on board, becoming wounded in the process. He strapped himself to one of the ships artillery, an Oerlikon, and began to fire on the Japanese aircraft in order to protect his fellow sailors, despite the ship sinking. Sheean was successful in shooting down two enemy aircraft and continued to fire until the ship had completely sunk, with him aboard still. He died on December 1st 1942 at age 18.
If you don't take anything from that, just understand the last three to four sentences. An 18 year old man, who was a farmhand before this, gave his life to save others. He knew he wasn't getting off that boat with the wounds he had sustained but he refused to give up easily. In my opinion, he is the definition of bravery and this award is more than deserved. May he Rest in Peace.
What made my memories stir so much with the news of Sheean getting his VC medal, was one of two things. The first, ANZAC day takes place every year on the 25th of April, which correlates with the landing at Gallipoli (which I will touch on a bit later) and around that time, you can buy Memorial things to support the RSL (Returned and Services League) who help Veterans. These things include poppies, arm bands, teddies, pens and something I get every year, a pin. These pins are the second thing because, the first pin that I remember getting and one that I still have now, is Teddy Sheean's. I learnt about his heroics at a young age and since then, had a strong connection with the ANZAC's, although I am ashamed to say it has waned a little as of late. But it's still there. So when my dear friend, Jack Byrne (also a Navy Veteran) told me about Sheean's VC, I was overjoyed. And it bought back a lot of memories about my experiences with the ANZAC's (most of which I shared with Jack).
Having being fortunate enough to go to these places, it allows me to understand a little bit more about why it is so important to commemorate these people. When I went to Gallipoli, I was only 17 years old. Over the course of the trip, I found this age on tombstones more than I would've liked to. Gallipoli is such a surreal location. You can look at all the photos you want, but I found it will never compare to seeing it in person. You go from flat ocean, with little to no tidal changes, straight on to a rock beach being loomed over by almost sheer, craggy cliffs. Instantly, you can see why it was such a death sentence for our soldiers, being trapped on those beaches for so long. Then you climb up one of those mountains and realise how hard it is and all you have on you is a backpack with a couple water bottles and some food in it. It clicks to you about how insane this would be to climb, decked out in full combat gear plus supplies while being shot at endlessly, but they did. You get to the top of certain areas and the trenches are still there, letting you go into places where thousands of soldiers dug to save their lives, only to no avail. And then you see the endless, white tombstones. Rows and rows as far as the eye can see, some with names, others with nothing at all. I was lucky enough to be told to carry a journal with me in case I wanted to write something down while I was there, whether it be something to remember or to talk about later or just to be able to let out how I felt. I'm going to share an extract that I wrote down, which I think sums up my feelings being at Gallipoli and Anzac Cove;
26th of September 2012,
So, this is the first entry in my journal. I haven't really had anything to really write about until today. This morning we came down to Anzac Cove to watch the sunrise. While we were sitting there, Mr Goodwin asked us to make him a promise. He asked us to grab a stone and asked us to one day return that stone. That broke down a few walls. I started crying and crying and just did not stop until we left. I hadn't thought that it would affect me as it did. My whole experience at Gallipoli has been surreal. It's hard to comprehend that thousands of men died, right where I'm lying right now, writing these words. I very much want to come back one day to return my rock back to it's resting place. RIP my cobbers your sacrifices are never ever forgotten.
This entry is one of the most prominent memories I have and I doubt that I will ever forget it. Mr Goodwin said that each stone there is a soldier and it was our duty to bring him home one more time. But eventually we need to bring him back so he can be at rest with his cobbers. I still have this rock. It is oval and flat and I had planned on skipping it out to sea, but Mr Goodwin asked us while I was holding it. I didn't let it leave the palm of my hand for the whole day.
Keeping on the theme of rocks, we had gone to a few cemeteries that had Jewish soldiers buried there. On all of these tombstones, there were small pebbles or rocks on top of them. I had no idea why it was just on these tombstones and not the others. The teachers told me that the rocks were a Jewish tradition and were often done at their funerals. After I had found this out, I always made sure to carry a pocketful of pebbles with me so when I came across a Jewish grave, I could put one on there to show my respect. Other students would often come up and ask me for some if they had come across a Jewish tomb as well. Before this trip took place, I had done some research in class and found someone who I believed is related to me. At the time he went under a different name, C.M Jackson, but I manged to find out his real name was Morris Myer Isaacs. Isaacs was believed to be of German or Anglo-Saxon origin, so it's understandable at the time to change it. Well, we stopped at a little cemetery in France called the Querrieu British Cemetery and this is where Morris was buried. I went through the different rows of tombs until I came across him. To my immense surprise, there was a Star of David on his tombstone. In all of my research, his religion was never mentioned (usually it is on transcripts). I couldn't believe it. I had spent all this time making sure I put rocks on as many Jewish tombstones as possible only to find out that I have a relative who practiced the Jewish faith. All of my friends came around to see why I was sitting at one tombstone and quickly raced off to find a stone to pay their respects with me. I can't explain the feeling that I had when I found this out. To this day, I am still not even 100% sure that we are blood related, but it doesn't matter. What matters is how I felt then, at that moment and it is something I will always cherish.
Our journey took us all across the world. From Turkey we went to France and Belgium, along the Western Front and ending up in Singapore. I remember being a part of surreal things. Finding real poppies on the side of the road that we made the bus stop so we could get out and look at them. Two of my other classmates were commemorating a trio of brothers and one of them was even related to them. They had spent so much time researching them that they had managed to find the location of their deaths, which happened to be a field that we eventually passed on the bus. I remember the two of them getting off the bus, walking to the middle of the field hand in hand, hugging each other has they fell to the ground in tears. Us all watching from the bus, allowing them their moment of recognition before we all got off the bus to hug them and pay our respects. I remember holding a ceremony in the pouring rain, where my fellow student was reading her eulogy in the rain, having forgotten her umbrella and another student going up to stand beside her, using his umbrella to shield her. I remember shivering like crazy through that same ceremony only to think "The boys withstood this for years, you can stop shivering for 5 minutes" and being able to do so. I remember the scorching heat and humidity of Singapore and wondering how any one could fight in this day in and day out. I remember sitting at the top of a memorial looking out over a sea of white tombstones, telling myself that this was too many. I remember sitting at the base of a memorial on top of a hill at dusk, in the middle of the woods, bundled up in a blanket with my fellow students, overlooking brave men and their resting place, singing Waltzing Matilda. I remember spending all of this with people that I will always remember, even if we no longer talk anymore or see eye-to-eye. There are hundreds of memories that I have from this trip and they are something I will always remember, even if I don't think I still do. I remember.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them. LEST WE FORGET.
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