Tomorrow we will remember and honour those New Zealanders who participated in the many armed conflicts inflicted upon this small nation of ours. Not one of those conflicts, as I recall, initiated or orchestrated by us. But that doesn’t matter. We did the job. Among those we will honour will be primarily the dead; those who in most cases did not return. The ultimate sacrifice. Then we will remember the others—the others who fought and, increasingly these days, those who supported them at home and behind the lines. In these enlightened times, tribute will be made to the women and their role in these wars and, today, the women who serve on the frontline in the armed services. Inevitably, reference will be made to the increase in the number of us attending Dawn and other commemorative services; mention will be made of the number of “young people”. And so we should—if accurate. But the sad fact is that with the exception of those who served in more recent conflicts—Malaysia, Vietnam, Afghanistan and Iraq—most of those we now honour are done so in spirit; there will be none from the First World War, and a sadly diminishing few from the Second. Yet, because of that and because this is a special ANZAC Day, there is tomorrow a poignant change—it’s become personal. Whereas in the past we have rightly honoured the many, this year I am detecting that in my family and most likely in yours we are honouring, remembering, our own. In this small nation of ours there are few families, even today, that did not have a relative who fought. There are few families that do not have a reason to look back in pride, even a 100 years on. There are few families that don’t have faded photographs or treasured letters. There are few families that tomorrow, when those immortal words “Lest we Forget” ring out, will not have a very very personal reason and right to respond: “Not a Chance.”
Private George Isle
No. 38288
Canterbury Infantry Regiment
New Zealand Expeditionary Forces 1917.
R.I.P.
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