Nola Marino (Forrest, Liberal Party) Share this | Hansard source

I am very moved to speak on the centenary of Anzac. Late last year, I had the honour of laying a wreath for Australia at Tyne Cot cemetery in Belgium, the largest Commonwealth war memorial in the world, where there are 1,360 Australian graves, 791 of those are unidentified—those as on the inscription, 'Known only unto God.' This has the most Australian burials in the world with graves representing all but two of the 60 infantry battalions of the Australian 5th Division. Tyne Cot lies on ground captured by the Australian 3rd Division in 1917 during the Battle of Broodseinde. These are the Flanders fields, where between August and November 1917 five Australian divisions suffered 38,000 casualties—the most ever in any war. As I walked down the row upon row of crosses, I was struck by how young so many of these men were. I was given little wooden crosses to place near these gravestones which had handwritten messages on them from Australian children. What a wonderful tribute from today to those men of the past, from young children so far away in Australia showing their respect.

Beside the remnant of a German pillbox lies the grave of Captain Clarence Smith Jefferies, who received a posthumous VC for his bravery at Passchendaele. His epitaph is very eloquent. It reads: 'On fame's eternal camping ground, their silent tents are spread.' Standing amongst the headstones, it makes you feel as though this applies to every grave—their silent tents.

I also visited the Polygon Wood cemetery, the site of the Australian 5th Division memorial. This came at great cost—there are over 2,000 headstones in this cemetery. I was particularly struck by the headstone of Lieutenant Harold Roland Hill of the 25th AIF battalion, killed on 4 October 1970 at just 22. This wonderful Australian character, the strength that we acknowledge and celebrate as part of our Anzacs, had on his headstone the words of his last letter that he was due to send home to his mother. It reads: 'I'm all right, Mother, cheerio.' That is what he sent to her from that horrendous battlefield.

I also had the privilege of meeting the Menin Gate buglers, the group of volunteers who play the last post every evening at 8 pm in Ypres. They have done this since 1928—silent only during World War II. It has been played over 30,000 times. One of the buglers was a very senior gentleman, as you would expect. I said to him, 'What a huge commitment you and your wonderful group of volunteers have made, playing the last post every day.' He looked at me very seriously—I will never forget it—and said: 'The Germans were determined to destroy our nation and our people.' I will never forget this; he said: 'All we are and all we have is because of Australians' blood on our soil.' I will never forget this comment, and I would ask every Australian not to forget this comment, because each one of those young men lying in those graves had a family and friends who loved them—families who, to this day, have made a huge sacrifice, as well.

My mother was a World War II widow. Her husband was killed in New Guinea. So I understand exactly, as do my two beautiful older sisters, what that sacrifice is and why the respect shown by the Menin Gate buglers is so important to the families of those who lie in those graves. They, like my mother, probably waved their husbands and sons off on a train. For Mum, it was the girl who worked in the local post office who rode her pushbike out to the farm to tell my mother her husband had been killed. This is why Anzac Day is so important. As my sister said, they did not need Anzac Day to remember. For them, it was real every day that they did not have a father. This is why the record number of Australians at Anzac services is so important.

That is what we saw this year—like the number who attended the dawn service at Kingston Primary School. Each child in the school had made a ceramic poppy, and we had this beautiful glow from these poppies in a leaf pattern on the ground. Every child made a poppy; what respect that is. Record numbers of people attended the dawn service in Harvey. There was a beautiful, respectful silence—that is all I can call it—at the new Harvey War Memorial. Record numbers of people attended the Brunswick service. There was standing room only, with 450 people in a tiny little community hall. The same happened in Bunbury at their service. Well done to all of our RSLs and to the Australian people who came out in numbers to show their respect.

I want to acknowledge that my own grandfather fought in World War I. He came home deafened by gunfire. There was probably family after family all around Australia who had someone with this experience—people who were wounded in battle and who came home with a range of conditions they never went away with. There are those who lie in graves at Tyne Cot and Polygon Wood and in so many theatres all around the world where Australians have seen service.

This year was particularly special and I wish that my mother had been alive to see it. She had, for 60 years, been the only person in Brunswick who laid a floral tribute even when there was no service. I would drive past and see that little bunch of flowers from her garden every year. It was an extraordinary commitment and, as a result, my family gets to lay the very first wreath at Brunswick every year.

I want to finish with the Ode of Remembrance. It is so special to all of us. The poem was written by Laurence Binyon. It was first published in The Times in London in 1914. It has been recited at ceremonies since 1919. I think we all know that, but there are parts of it we may not know.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,

Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.

They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,

They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.

Lest we forget.

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