“The battle
of Fromelles on 19 July 1916 was a bloody initiation for Australian soldiers to
warfare on the Western Front. Soldiers of the newly arrived 5th Australian
Division, together with the British 61st Division, were ordered to attack
strongly fortified German front line positions near the Aubers Ridge in French
Flanders. The attack was intended as a feint to hold German reserves from
moving south to the Somme where a large Allied offensive had begun on 1 July.
The feint was a disastrous failure. Australian and British soldiers assaulted
over open ground in broad daylight and under direct observation and heavy fire
from the German lines. Over 5,500 Australians became casualties. Almost 2,000
of them were killed in action or died of wounds and some 400 were captured.
This is believed to be the greatest loss by a single division in 24 hours
during the entire First World War. Some consider Fromelles the most tragic
event in Australia’s history.”
This is an extract
from an article on the battle of Fromelles that I found at the Australian War
Memorial Museum (internet site) in Canberra. Because today is Anzac Day, and
because Anzac Day is most famously associated with Gallipoli, I thought it
worthwhile to highlight one of the many other battles that the AIF fought in in
WW1.
In fact the
AIF fought widely across the Western Front and in the Middle East, but it is the
Gallipoli landings and the subsequent defeat that lives most vividly in the
imagination. It is not hard to understand why. A dramatic landing under heavy
fire in the wrong place, a terrible slog to get a purchase on the cliffs and
slopes. A long period of attrition in trenches, with the Turks having the home
advantage all the while. Finally, the cleverly thought deceits that allowed for
a safe mass evacuation. Some of the elements of the campaign look forward to
another war – D-Day and Dunkirk.
Today we remember
those servicemen and women who fought and died for Australia. One can hate war
and still be grateful for their sacrifice.
‘At the
going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them.’
Lest We
Forget
Yesterday I had surgery on a BCC on the bridge of my nose, a procedure that necessitated general anaesthetic. It's been worrying me for weeks now, but I was surprised at how calm I was on the morning and calmer still before being wheeled into the theatre.
It need not have worried or surprised me really, because I had prayed quite earnestly about it and knew with certainty that whatever the outcome, God was beside me. A greater peace than that is hard to imagine.
My wife drove home since I was not allowed to and sleep was restless, probably due to the anaesthetic. I also had to try to lie in a position that would leave my nose unencumbered, which is not my usual way of lying. Still, very much a first world problem. How grateful I am for good medical care and the means to pay for it I cannot account for, it being greater than the sum of my words.
Sunday last Ann and I did the Grand Canyon bushwalk at Blackheath. It surprised me that I have never done this walk before because when I first moved up here, I regularly did weekend walks. Perhaps it was the drive to Blackheath that put me off - I can't remember.
Grand Canyon is a name that might be hard to live up to, but grand it is, not in terms of size, but the sheer beauty of the steep gorge, with creeks and waterfalls abounding. Part-way down we encountered some canyoners geared up to explore the recesses and caves. The water is very cold and I'm sure they were repayed with a fine experience.
For the last few days my calf muscles have been aching, for while I was certainly fit enough for the 7 km track, I was not used to climbing up and down so many stairs. But a great walk it was and much to be recommended.
Good Friday
After a couple of wisely considered delays in launch, Artemis 2 has finally set off on its mission to orbit the moon and return. I watched the launch and subsequent NASA press conference this morning.
It's exciting that a manned crew are returning to our only lunar friend after a 50 year hiatus. The Apollo missions of that time were extraordinary, full of risk and courage and achievement. Technology has moved on but the rocket itself seems eerily similar in many respects to the Saturn 5 - humans perched atop a massive load of burning fuel.
The orbital path of Artemis is also very interesting and I republish a NASA diagram below. I look forward to reading articles about the mission on 'What's in Space 'in coming broadcasts. May God keep them safe, both outbound and inbound.
When people pass away they (or their earthly remains) go to cemeteries for burial or interment, for the most part. The condition of their memorials, whatever form they take, is largely in the remit of their families.
Yesterday I went to the Eastern Suburbs Memorial Garden at Matraville (which is a long hike from Hazelbrook) to visit my mum. Her garden bed, which is a rose garden, hosts the memorial tablets of four family members and one family friend. There are long stories to tell about all of them, though this is not the time.
A few years ago we had the tablets of two grandparents remade as they had crumbled. My mum's, being only 15 months old, is shiny and new and made of far sturdier materials than the older versions, though what they will all look like in 60 years remains to be seen. For as long as I have breath I will visit regularly to polish and clean the plinths and weed the general area. The staff there seem to do a pretty good job too.
It is sad to see tablets that are uncared for, some now impossible to read, or having missing or lose plaques. I have a mind to take some super glue next time and repair a few of them, for surely they are worthy of more respect than this. I wonder if the neglect they now experience was once also the way they left the world - lonely, largely unknown.
I miss my mum, our daily phone conversations, her sharp memories of the past. I have a place to go to chat and pray - that at least, is a blessing. The gardens themselves are not far from the sea - Botany Bay on one side, and the Tasman on the other. Hence this small poem.
One Sea-Side Grave
