26 APRIL 2007
John Stapleton
DESPITE torrential downpours, thousands of people were crowded into Martin Place for 4am for the dawn service; many families brought their wide-eyed children. Amongst the crowd were few elderly diggers from the Second World War, now fewer and fewer in number.
John Stapleton
DESPITE torrential downpours, thousands of people were crowded into Martin Place for 4am for the dawn service; many families brought their wide-eyed children. Amongst the crowd were few elderly diggers from the Second World War, now fewer and fewer in number.
Ronald Hanton, 87, travelled from Adelaide for the occasion but said there were less and less of his comrades every year. “I am one of the only survivors,” he said.
Mr Hanton was 21 when he was discharged, and like many other returned soldiers said he wouldn’t wish war on anyone. “Life is a wonderful experience, but I wouldn’t want to send someone into the same situation I experienced.”
Despite bouts of heavy rain, the atmosphere was hushed as state governor Marie Bashir read the dedication: “We who are gathered here think of those who went out to the battlefields of all wars, but did not return. We feel them near us in spirit.”
Official guests who laid wreaths at the Cenotaph included NSW Premier Morris Iemma, state opposition leader Barry O’Farrell, federal Environment Minister Malcolm Turnbull representing the Prime Minister and Sydney Lord Mayor Clover Moore.
Chaplain Murray Lund led prayers for peace around the world. “Raise up those who have courage and vision to work for a new world where children can grow up in peace and freedom.” he said.
As rain poured down a lone bugler played the last post, followed by a minute’s silence in the normally bustling city heart.
Naval Commander of Australia, Rear Admiral Davyd Thomas, told the quietl, respectful crowd that the Anzac story resonated with many Australians because it was about ordinary people overcoming their fears and frailties. He urged the crowd to remember the 3,500 Australian servicemen and women serving overseas and said the Anzac tradition continued through them. “Many of them were in harm’s way this morning,” he said. “Their service is still selfless, the mateship is as deep, the teamwork just as vital.”
Wreaths began to pile up around the Cenotaph from the early hours, some from organisations, many from private individuals. “In loving memory of our father Alexander Tomryns, who died as a POW of the Japanese,” read just one of hundreds of moving messages.
Ross Mangano, 67, who lost a leg in Vietnam, recalls to this day a priest in an army field hospital trying to read him his last rites. “I shouted at him that I had never seen snow, I wasn’t going to die,” he recalls. “My platoon sergeant died in Vietnam, and I march for him and for all my mates who can’t march. You can’t go to war and not lose any soldiers. I am very proud to be Australian.”
Many families took their children. Eight-year-old Claudia Cirillo from Manly in Sydney’s north, said of the service: “It might make little kids sad about the people who died in the war, but it is still important they come.” Her mother Janette Cirillo said it was important to bring her children. “Anzac Day and the Dawn Service is part of our Australian heritage,” she said.
As part of yesterday’s ceremonies a special award was given to Wall Scott-Smith, the chief custodian of the Cenotaph for the past 60 years. He has never missed a dawn service in all that time.
“The crowds started increasing about seven years ago,” he said. “At first it was teenagers, now it is mom, dad and the kids. The Dawn Service is very important, it means so much to different people.”
Brooke Snow, 23, a landscape gardener from Erskine Park, said his grandfather Jack Budden had served in World War Two and as he had passed away last year he wanted to honour his memory. “The service is an eye opener,” he said. “You don’t realise what they went through until you come and see something like this.”
Scott Stanford, 37, dressed in full army regalia, said his great uncle Roy Stanford had been killed at Gallipoli and as his most direct descendent he wanted to be part of the official ceremony. “I march so it is not forgotten about,” he said. “I bring my young son, who is eight, with me every year. It is not about glorifying war, it is about ensuring it never happens again.”