Auckland War Memorial Museum and Cenotaph

Anzac Day on April 25 th, is a national day of Remembrance in New Zealand and Australia, for the Dead of all wars that our countries have participated in. The word Anzac comes from Australia and New Zealand Army Corps and came into parlance after the Allied invasion of Turkey at Gallipoli on April 25, 1915. Casualties were enormous on all sides, and the invasion ended in failure and withdrawal after 8 months. The tragic experience of our troops under Imperial command, was the beginning of the sense of Nationhood and separation from the Colonial mentality of  Great Britain, the King and Empire of the WW1 era.

When you travel around New Zealand and Australia, it seems every town has a memorial for the dead of both World Wars. The losses from WW1 especially were heavy. It is poignant to see the names, often of more than one from the same family, and to reflect on the price they paid.

My grandfathers were at the right age for WW1.  Thomas Edwin Olds was badly wounded at the Somme, but survived to a full life as The Reverend Thomas Olds, married to Daisy Calvert, with two daughters, Kathleen (my mother) and Margaret, and one son, David Leonard. John Thompson Kelly, an apothecary’s assistant in England before the war, served in ‘ The Forgotten Army of  Salonika’ , survived to marry Florence Emily Riddell, and emigrated to New Zealand to become a dairy farmer in the King Country of the North Island (so-called because of the Maori King movement of the 1850s). They had two sons, John Riddell (my father) and James Alexander and a daughter, Barbara.

This next generation were just at the right age for service in WW2. When once I asked my father, a farm boy, why he volunteered in 1942 at the age of 20 yrs, he said they were worried they’d miss the chance to travel, and the war would be over before they got there. In 1945, at age 23 yrs, I’m sure he felt differently. He had served as Artillery Gunner in the Pacific, landing on the Treasury Islands in the Solomon Group, and then later in Italy, witnessing the end of the war in Trieste, even caught a jeep ride with a Soviet major on a little excursion outside Trieste. Fortunately for me, he came home in one piece. His brother Alex served in the Royal New Zealand Navy as a signaller first on HMNZS Kaiwaka, a coastal minesweeper, then transferred to the Aircraft Carrier HMS Patroller, which was in commissioning trials in the North Irish sea. His majesty no longer needed him after the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima.

My mother Kathleen saw her elder brother David go off to train as a fighter pilot in the US, he served in the Fleet Air Arm, saw action over the Normandy landings, came back to England as an instructor, married his beautiful Greek fiance and 3 weeks later was killed when his plane crashed into the sea on a student training flight. Sub-Lieutenant David Leonard Olds, Royal New Zealand Naval Volunteer Reserve, died 21 August 1944, aged 23 years. Buried at St Bartholomews Churchyard Yeovilton in England.

 What motivates people on both sides of a conflict, to sacrifice their lives and liberty?  In WW1 it was Empire and Honour. In WW2 it was the threat of Naziism and Fascism. The Cold War was about Communism. The War on Terror is about religious extremism. The cost is not just the actual destruction of life and property, but the aftermath of families and communities destroyed, the absence of lives not lived, the agonies of lifelong physical and mental damage. 

Is war necessary for human civilisation to progress? I don’t believe so. To quote Dwight D Eisenhower, Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces in Europe in WW2, 34th president of the USA      “I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its futility, its stupidity.” To quote Jimi Hendrix,  rockstar guitarist      “When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.” And finally Bhudda      “Peace comes from within. Do not seek it without.” Jesus “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. “   Muhammad “Do you love your creator? Love your fellow-beings first”  

Peace, out  )

How do you feel ?

As a New Zealander, I feel quiet pride in the achievements of Sir Edmund Hillary, who along with Sherpa Tensing, conquered Mt Everest for the first time in history 29 may1953. When Sir Ed died in Jan 2008, by coincidence our family was holidaying at Waihi Beach in the Bay of Plenty of New Zealand, where Sir Ed kept a holiday home right on the beach. We went down to see where we might have met the Great Man in days gone by, and were touched by the sight of flowers placed on an old bench seat which he undoubtedly would have sat upon, at the edge of the unfenced lawn giving straight on to the beautiful ocean beach.

As I watched my two youngest daughters play happily on the beach, blissfully unaware of a real feeling of mourning gripping New Zealanders, my mind went back to two personal memories of meeting Sir Ed in the flesh. Even in a relatively small nation such as New Zealand, Joe Kiwi rarely bumps into a World Famous Person such as Sir Ed. The fact that he owned a bach (crib) near to my father’s small home town of Waihi, was a talking point in itself :o)

 I have always remembered the first sighting of  the Great Man (6ft5in) when I was boy. He must have been touring the country after the Everest expedition, and my father took me and my little brother Conal (good Irish name) to a tree planting in our local parish of Ranui. We came home with a photograph, and an autograph on a piece of paper, which survived for many years.

Fast forward to about 2005. Sir Edmund had lived an adventurous life, first man to the South Pole since Scott, Himalayan and Ganges-to-Sky expeditions, Himalayan Trust for building schools and hospitals in Nepal, family tragedy, missing the Erebus Crash, High Commissioner to India. I was on a plane to Dunedin to attend a Veterinary Conference, when I noticed the rear view of a distinctive head of bouffant grey hair a few seats up the aisle. I have a memory that never forgets a face, and in this case a hair-do ) I just knew it was Sir Ed. He was now well into his eighties, travelling economy on a small commercial flight, and when I saw him leaving the terminal, frail and slow with his wife at his side, my urge to say hello, and perhaps ask for another autograph, gave way to a feeling of respect for his privacy. It was enough to have seen him in the flesh, and remember the occasion to retell my children. 

Of course Sir Ed was always a humble hero, and called himself an ordinary man who had an extra-ordinary life – “You don’t have to be a fantastic hero to do certain things – to compete. You can be just an ordinary chap, sufficiently motivated.       Sir Ed also alluded to the fact that as a youth he was told that he would never be any good at sport because of his build :o) - that was his motivation !!