Heather Roy’s Diary: More than just a ‘Day Off’
act-new-zealand
Thu Apr 21 2011 12:00:00 GMT+1200 (New Zealand Standard Time)
Heather Roy’s Diary: More than just a ‘Day Off’
Thursday, 21 April 2011, 3:35 pm
Column: ACT New Zealand
Heather Roy’s Diary
More than just a ‘Day Off’
Earlier in the year there was some ‘whinging’ about the fact the 2011 calendar year has short-changed people of public holidays. Waitangi Day fell on a Saturday meaning people didn’t get a day off work and Easter Monday and ANZAC Day fall on the same day – this coming Monday.
This situation has stimulated a protracted debate about whether or not some public holidays should be moved to a week-day when they fall on a weekend or public holiday. More importantly, which holidays should fall on the actual date because they are of such significance?
The FlyBuys/Colmar Brunton Mood of the New Zealand Traveller Survey released yesterday showed that two thirds of kiwis believe the holiday to mark ANZAC Day should be moved if it falls on the same day as Easter Monday. The same survey revealed that 50% said ANZAC Day is more significant to them than Easter Monday. What wasn’t clear from the survey was if the day itself is more important than having a working day off.
I spent the first part of this morning selling poppies for the RSA in Wellington. Each year I hear stories from poppy purchasers about what ANZAC Day means to them, which service they will go to, which family member will wear the medals of servicemen and women now deceased and I hear the stories of wartime escapades passed down from generation to generation.
For most of us there are special stories which will be retold again this Monday – ANZAC Day 2011- when Kiwis and Australians from around the world gather at memorials, large and small, to pay their respects to those who fought for the freedoms we now enjoy. It is a day when we pause to reflect; to remember and to look forward with hope. When I reflect on the true significance of ANZAC day the argument of moving the date simply to ‘get a day off’ leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
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Both my Grandfathers were involved in the First World War. I’m too young to remember the rare occasions when ‘Granddad Jack’ would reveal snippets of his First World War experiences but my mother and her siblings tell the stories of their father who was a Sergeant in the Otago Mounted Rifles. I recall a photo of him, in uniform and riding breeches, standing next to his horse as he prepared for deployment in 1914.
He was trained for Gallipoli but at the last minute was diverted to fierce trench warfare in France. Though he suffered, like so many others, the ravages of muddy trenches, shrapnel and gas - he believed that he was one of the lucky ones.
Some of his men said, years later, that he was a brave and good Sergeant. They recalled the time when he and the other remaining eleven men of his unit were cut off from all support in particularly fierce fighting. The twelve were reported in despatches as having held back a German advance for several days by making the battle look like a trap.
My Grandad, Jack Fraser, thought it was the end. They were fighting in a hopeless situation. Ammunition had to be stolen from enemy casualties at night to put on a show of strength next day. They had no food and little sleep when eventually help came. I understand that he was offered some official recognition but refused it because he said it wasn't just him who ‘pulled it off’. On reflection, many years later, he felt he should have accepted the award ‘for his men’.
Once, when in cold damp trenches, they got extra food rations that were not intended for their unit. Everyone was hungry and most wanted the double rations, but Jack said that was not fair. He personally delivered the extra tins of bully beef to the rightful owners. When he returned, his companions had received a direct artillery hit, with several dead and many others injured. But the battlefield has no favourites and his errand could just have easily cost him his life instead of sparing it.
This year I will be commemorating ANZAC Day in uniform with my Army Unit as part of a firing party at the Titahi Bay (Porirua) Dawn Parade and later in the morning at the Johnsonville Service in Wellington. Our volleys will be critically appraised by the former servicemen on parade, but they appreciate the contribution of the currently serving in remembering those no longer with us. ANZAC Day combines everything that we value - remembrance, service and family.
The increased turnouts at ANZAC Day services throughout the country are encouraging. Are our young people coming to find out more about their families or is there a patriotic theme at play? I think there are a multitude of reasons why numbers are increasing. However, I don’t see evidence of this shaping our nation. What I do see is charitable groups and service organisations struggling to find and retain willing volunteers. People would often rather pay than serve. The concept of ‘what your time is worth’ is king. When you are walking, carrying a wounded mate, time is not king; you just put one foot in front of the other for as long as it takes to get where you are going.
But our children and grand-children, it often seems, are being swept along in a multimedia wave of individualism. They often pass up the option of the greater good and therefore ignore the most important lesson that we thought our forebears brought back from their wartime experience; service before self. Heroes today are sports stars and rock musicians - short performance individuals not low profile grafters and toilers; the people who keep the world going.
There is no doubt in my mind that our greatest challenge is still ahead of us. We know that it is simply not realistic for the younger generations to learn the formative lessons of life in the same way that we did. But the oft-touted concept of military service shaping the nation is irrelevant if we don’t find some means of imbuing our young people with the ethos of service.
We all have to look to ourselves and lead by example. We must remain relevant to our young. We can’t do that by living in the past and seeking a return to the good old days. We won’t draw our young to us by rubbishing their music or their clothes. Neither will we do it with racism, sexism or inflexibility in our own thinking. We must ask the hard questions of ourselves, for many this may mean a war within ourselves.
We’ve faced big challenges before. We can face this one. If we don’t, the sacrifice of our forebears, though not forgotten, will surely be diminished.
Young Kiwis have unhesitatingly put their lives on the line decade after decade. So too have our Australian neighbours and the best young people of every country in the free world. Those who have served the cause of freedom, in any way whatsoever, can look into their own hearts and draw deductions, with confidence, about what the fallen would want us to remember. Amid the chaos and discomfort, the exhaustion and the boredom – one desire rises above all others – PEACE.
And the price of peace is eternal vigilance. Lest We Forget.
ENDS
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