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Author Jack Moore”s views on ANZAC DAY in an address he presented during Anzac Day observances at the Waiuku War Memorial Hall, New Zealand, on Monday April 25th, 2005 I have a special interest in Gallipoli since it has affected my life and that of my immediate family for many years. My father was a Kiwi who served as a soldier in the Australian Army for 5 years in WW1. He was working in Sydney as a mechanical engineer when War broke out. He enlisted as a sapper or army engineer. He sailed from Sydney to Egypt in a convoy of 30 ships which included 10 from NZ. He trained to be a soldier at Mena Camp near Cairo. In early March 1915, the Australian 3rd Brigade sailed to a small island called Lemnos, 100 km from Gallipoli. The island was a base for Australian and NZ troops. Two months later he boarded the British battleship, HMS Prince of Wales to be taken to Gallipoli. 4000 Australian soldiers and 1500 New Zealanders were involved in this initial convoy. On this day, just before dawn, 90 years ago, he and 30 of his mates leaped into the sea from a 10 metre boat. They struggled ashore on the beach of what was to be called Anzac Cove on Gallipoli. As Sappers they were among the first to land. Their task was to clear the landing beach of obstructions and not the least, the Turkish defenders. This was to prepare the way for their infantry mates who were to land later in the day. Five weeks later he was in a hospital bed in Malta, 1100 kms away. There he was being treated for a gun shot wound in his shoulder. He had been fighting at Gallipoli for a month. From the hospital he was able to write about the Landing and subsequent battle while it was still fresh in his mind. This was recorded in letters to his mother in Auckland. I quote, “As our boats with muffled oars approached the beach in half dark all was quiet. Suddenly there was a shot followed by continuous rifle and machine gun fire. Many of my friends did not make the beach and others were shot down as they did. The survivors fixed their bayonets and charged the Turks in their trenches. They cleared these trenches and carried on as far as they could. The terrain was rugged and the Turks well dug in. The Turks counter attacked and the battle surged back and forth. At 10 am the New Zealand troops landed and reinforced the Aussies. With these fresh troops we secured the landing area. Australian and NZ troops fought side by side. When their officers or NCOs were killed or wounded, soldiers from one country joined up with groups from the other.” The legend of Anzac was born on this day. The battles continued in the hills and valleys. Casualties were heavy on both sides. On May 23rd the Turks tried to drive the Colonial soldiers back to the sea. 42.000 Turks attacked 13000 entrenched Anzacs. After a day 4000 Turks were killed and thousands wounded. My father was wounded and a day later he was on the hospital ship, Soudan, bound for Malta. After 8 months he was declared fit By this time Gallipoli had been evacuated. All their efforts and sacrifice had been in vain but the Anzac tradition had been written into history. This bond between the two South Pacific nations has been perpetuated by servicemen and women in more recent wars. My father went on to fight the Germans in France. While there he was awarded the DCM for “Conspicuous Gallantry and Devotion to Duty” On this day we remember men such as my father and his mates. Many were killed or missing in action . They made the supreme sacrifice. Many of them survived. Some were wounded and suffered for years. Some were left with severe mental problems. We remember them and men and women from later wars with all the respect and dignity which is their due. But at the same time let us also remember their families who waited at home. Let us remember mothers such as my grandmother in Auckland. She waited four years for my father to return. Dreading every day she would receive the telegram to say he had been wounded again. Or worse still, he had been killed or was missing. She died just before he returned. Let us remember mothers such as my own who lost my father ten years after the war. He died as a result of his wartime experiences. I was 4, my brother 2 and my sister not yet born. We were left in the care of my mother to exist as best we could in a world without him. These mothers and many others in similar circumstances suffered too. They had to pick up the pieces. They carried on with dignity and devotion. They received no accolades. They received no medals. Their names are not recorded. They were the unsung heroes. On this day I ask you all to remember them too.