Forgotten war continues inside veterans’ hearts
David Campbell; 23/4/08
My father fought in the hellhole that was New Guinea in 1942. But although he regularly kept in touch with a couple of his close army mates after the war, he didn’t march on Anzac Day. Not once. The war was not a popular topic for discussion in our house. Although he was outwardly fit and healthy - he died more than 20 years ago - my mother has always insisted that New Guinea killed him. Not with a bullet, a bomb or a knife, but with something far more insidious. Even if there are no physical wounds, combat leaves deep-seated mental scars. For some who return from battle, it is a crippling condition. They simply cannot function and their lives, and those of their families, are destroyed by drugs, breakdowns and suicide. Others, like my father, manage to repress the memories and get on with their lives.
Marching for grandpa
23/4/08
In the pre-dawn stillness of Anzac Day, many of those solemnly gathering around our war memorials will be young Australians, their own lives untouched by the hardships and horrors of war. The swelling ranks of young Australians proudly pinning their forebears’ military medals to the right-hand side of their chests are a measure of a growing generational respect for the sacrifices of those who went before them. Perhaps in the minutes of silence the stereotype of the self-centred “me” generation momentarily falls away. If Anzac Day celebrates the heroics of Australia’s fallen, it is no surprise that the next generation has been swept up in a tide of emotion and nostalgia. But Anzac Day is not a celebration of ancestry. It is an acknowledgment of those who have actually served in military campaigns, and all that it means to do so.