The upcoming ANZAC Day is cancelled. Again.
When we stand at Dawn on the morning of 25 April at our front doors I wonder: are we saluting our fallen heroes or are we saluting our fallen unity?
I will stand, alone, at my front door and salute the men that fought and died so that I could stand alone to die alone and weep ALONE that, after over 100 years we FORGOT.
My very first Dawn Service was at St Faith’s Church at Ohinemutu in Rotorua. The steam was rising out of the tombs at the lakeside cemetery as the sun rose over Lake Rotorua. In the Church, the glass window showed Christ walking on water. He is portrayed wearing a traditional Maori Cloak and it was as if he was walking from Hinemoa Island to Ohinemutu.
It was bitterly cold; the air was still and the mist just starting to lift off the lake. As the bugler sounded out the Last Post, I felt chills throughout my body – not from the cold, but from the intense emotional atmosphere that surrounded me. Tears welled up from within me and I felt an overwhelming sense of Pride, Loss, Grief, Patriotism and genuine Humility.
I was 15 years old.
Later, on my way back to Ngongotaha, I could not speak. I did not wish to speak. I needed to be silent and contemplative. That day, all those years ago, I changed forever. I became an adult. The sheer enormity of what had led me to stand in the frigid Rotorua Dawn air was too huge for me to come to grips with. It was as if I had been confronted with Reality and the true essence of Courage, Fortitude, Honour and Sacrifice.
I ate some freshly baked ANZAC biscuits. Crunchy, Snappy and very nice. Back when they first surfaced, the humble Anzac biscuit reflected the time in which they were created. No eggs. Because many poultry farmers had risen to the call to head off to fight and eggs were very scarce.
There are so many stories about our humble bikkie. No one really knows whether they were sent to our troops, or merely baked as fundraisers. My limited research tells me that they had little sugar, no eggs, golden syrup and heaps of rolled oats.
They were humble. Honest Decent. Like Us.
Our Dawn Services are under attack for fear of spreading contagion from a Virus hatched overseas. Last year it was the Virus called Terrorism.
We now intend to stand outside our homes and silently and wistfully pay tribute to Warriors with a bland and weak salute. Because we are not ALLOWED to congregate. The irony cannot be lost, surely?
While Ramadan can continue, ANZAC Day is verboten?
If our Governments deny us our ANZAC and allow Ramadan, what message are they sending us? Social distancing is for us but not them?
Have we become Nations of Cowards? Are we becoming a soggy, limp, chewy excuse for a People? Or do we still have the crunch, the bite and the resilience of a true Anzac biscuit? It was a good recipe and one that has served us well since its birth, in a time of War and a time of great need.
The theft of our RIGHT to attend a Dawn Service to commemorate our brave and long lost soldiers is a National disgrace. It is the second year that we have been denied the right, the RIGHT to honour our brave and fallen. The THEFT of ANZAC Day is the exact reason why the Dawn Services should and must be held. After all, that is what those lads died to protect.
There were and are two things that link Australia and New Zealand: Rugby Union – the Bledisloe Cup – and ANZAC Day. Both have been destroyed.
Our Whanau, our sense of Family, has been annihilated since Jacinda Ardern came to her questionable power. SHE and she alone has destroyed our ANZAC SPIRIT. Divide and Conquer. Two Nations that once were brothers are now divided. Our Rugby is now gone. Our playful brotherly banter is gone. Australia and New Zealand are now divided.
Our so called Leaders are destroying the ANZAC TRADITION.
The upcoming ANZAC Day is cancelled. Again.
When we stand at Dawn on the morning of 25 April at our front doors I wonder: are we saluting our fallen heroes or are we saluting our fallen unity?
I will stand, alone, at my front door and salute the men that fought and died so that I could stand alone to die alone and weep ALONE that, after over 100 years we FORGOT.
Let us return to the old Recipes and save our traditions.
If we do not, then the Last Post may be more prophetic than we realise. Lest We Forget.
WE FORGOT.
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