ANZAC Day

ANZAC was the name given to the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps soldiers who landed on the Gallipoli Peninsula in Turkey early on the morning of 25 April 1915 during the First World War (1914-1918). Anzac Day in New Zealand is held on 25 April each year to commemorate New Zealanders killed in war and to honor returned servicemen and women. The day has similar importance in Australia, New Zealand's partner in the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps at Gallipoli.  (ANZAC ~ Australia and New Zealand Army Corps)

See the links at the bottom of this page for ANZAC sites.

A tribute to the memory of the ANZACS by M. Kemal Atatürk in 1934
(Founder of the Turkish Republic in 1923)

  THE ANZAC MEMORIAL

Those heroes that shed their blood And lost their lives...
You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country.
Therefore, rest in peace.
There is no difference between the Johnnies
And the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side,
Here in this country of ours.
You, the mothers, who sent their sons from far away countries...
Wipe away your tears.
Your sons are now lying in our bosom And are in peace.
After having lost their lives on this land, they have
Become our sons as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lou Klaiber's Response

Their Sons and Grandsons stood the Wars
that came upon the far wind
of other times.

They stood with all who went forth
in the name of
Freedom.

How fortunate we were
to find
such friends....

there.......
far South,

on the other side
of Earth.

CAL
©2005

~~~~~~

ANZAC DAY 2004

It draws closer like the shadow of a deadly hoard,

A distant thunder, the flashing of the sword!

Ever coming nearer; marching in sullen lines,

Ghostly troops and memories from old times.

The sick feelings rise inside our selves,

As we take our shiny medals from dusty shelves,

We cannot sleep we nervously await,

The day of days; the day we love and hate.

In the night the battle cries and scrims,

Become real again escaping from our dreams.

We grieve together gathered in the dawn,

Heads bent down sad and so forlorn

We think of war; we talk of war and pray

On this day of days; this sacred ANZAC Day.

 ©23 April 2004 Colin F Jones

ANZAC DAY

2003

THE SOLDIER

The soldier serves the Lord and all mankind,

Serves best his comrades whom he left behind,

He serves the people of his nations states,

And harbours all the wounds of their mistakes.

He suffers guilt and from the torrid scene,

Suffers pain where pain cannot be seen.

He bears the burdens of his country's hope,

And gives his life that those in fear may cope.

He is not fearless, thus he must be brave,

He obeys his leaders but is not a slave,

He’s just a man trained in higher skills,

Who’s duty bound thus duty he fulfills.

He is a Warrior, the keeper of the peace,

Who fights in war to ensure that it will cease.

ã04/15/03 Colin F. Jones

Australia

Anzac Day

I hear footsteps...
 from half the world away;
Australia is marching for Anzac Day.
There are those stepping lively
and those marching slowly,
 and those like me, marching only in their minds.
They march in memory
 to a place where for them the road does wind
and there they may be joined
 by those who were left behind.
There is the sound of many feet
marching in honor in the street.
Listen, I can hear them come
as though marching to a single drum.
The marching sound is deafening,
footsteps growing ever louder,
for in remembering their own,
their steps do become prouder.

ãFaye Sizemore 04/15/03

United States of America

~~~~~~

Spirit of Anzac

They clad us in the colours of the forest,

and armed us with the weapons made for war.

Then taught to us the ancient trade of killing,

and lead us to the sound of battles roar.

So give us comfort as we lay down bleeding,

and pray upon our cold and stiffened dead.

But mark our place that we might be accounted,

this foreign soil becomes our graven bed.

Now children place upon this stone a garland,

and learn of us each Anzac Day at dawn.

We are New Zealand's dead from distant conflict,

our sacrifice remembered ever more.

 ã Mike Subritzky

NEW ZEALAND

The Last (Kiwi) Anzac

They buried Doug Dibley today,

a fine old gentleman who died in his sleep,

at Rotorua on a hot December afternoon.

No warrior’s death for him on Walker's Ridge,

where the poppies fed on the blood and frozen dreams;

of good young men from Wellington.

A day’s leave and a seven-year-old son at my side,

we bore witness as six tall infantrymen in service dress,

raised him high from the gun carriage,

and quietly marched his flag draped casket to eternal rest;

among the trees and hills of his beloved Ngongotaha.

Volleys fired and mournful bugles call,

we shall not see his like again,

no more grow old as yet no more remain,

with living memory of that time,

when machine gun and bayonet did their awful work,

and Anzac boys closed with desperate Turk,

among the gullies and crumbling ridges;

of a foreign coast that was Gallipoli.

Remember this day my son,

Remember this hour and this place,

for here and now they bury this nation's last lament,

to a time of King and Empire.

And the poppies on the ridges grow,

and the scrub thorn in the valleys thrive,

and the memory of young mates who died;

we sod this day with Trooper Dibley.

ã Mike Subritzky

NEW ZEALAND

~~~~~~