ANZAC day is the one public holiday that, for me, conjures a sense of what could almost pass for reverence.
I can’t think of anything more eloquent, or more appropriate, than this poem by the late John Forbes.
Anzac Day
A certain cast to their features marked the English going into battle, & then, that glint in the Frenchman's eye meant 'Folks, clear the room!' The Turks knew death would take them to a paradise of sex Islam reserves for its warrior dead & the Scots had their music. The Germans worshipped the State & Death, so for them the Maximschlacht was almost a sacrament. Recruiting posters made the Irish soldier look like a saint on a holy card, soppy & pious, the way the Yanks go on about their dead. Not so the Australians, unamused, unimpressed they went over the top like men clocking on, in this first full-scale industrial war. Which is why Anzac Day continues to move us, & grow, despite attempts to make it a media event (left to them we'd attend 'The Foxtel Dawn Service'). But the March is proof we got at least one thing right, informal, straggling & more cheerful than not, it's like a huge works or 8 Hour Day picnic- if we still had works, or unions, that is.
John Forbes, 1998
Photo: smcgee
