(The Australian and New Zealand colonies had sent troops overseas before as part of British Imperial forces, but had only become nations in their own right in 1901 and 1907 respectively - and while both had conducted small scale operations in the Pacific area during 1914 (capturing German dependencies), Gallipoli was the first large scale operation they were part of - and it's seen as the day we were baptised in blood).
Around Australia and New Zealand - and on battlefields overseas - the day is marked with many commemorative services, all of which would be rich targets for terrorism in the modern world, both symbolically, and because of the large number of people present.
Glad they were able to intercept and stop the planned attack.
“It appeared he had been radicalised online, Mr Scipione said.’
Gee, what ‘religion’ is known for that?/s
I wonder if the young perp had an affiliation with a certain religion of peace.
If he were a non-Mooslim they would be shouting it from the rooftops, so he must be a Mooslim.
I used to work with a guy who raised sheep in New Zealand for several years. When we spoke about the area, I possibly made the mistake of speaking of Australia and New Zealand as sort of one thing.
He informed me that they were a thousand miles apart. I of course knew they were separate countries.
I am not so sure I was wrong tho. Looking on a globe they are relatively close.
Hope you folks never forget ANZAC Day.
Hmmm. What position do you place Remembrance Day then? Just curious.
Not one use of the words “Muslim” or “Islam” in the article, even though the religion of the 16 yr old is obvious to all - apparently Australian media are as determined to whitewash Islam as the US media.
But then I hadn't even heard of the Religion of Pieces at that point.
And naturalman,the tribute you have on your "home page" for numerous Aussie and Kiwi soldiers who have recently fallen in battle is very impressive indeed...impressive and moving.
Pity you can’t hang his worthless ass.
L
An anti-war song, commemorating the 1915 battle at Gallipoli.
“And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda”
- Eric Bogle
Now when I was a young man, I carried me pack, and I lived the free life of a rover
From the Murray’s green basin to the dusty outback, well, I waltzed my Matilda all over.
Then in 1915, my country said son, It’s time you stopped rambling, there’s work to be done.
So they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun, and they marched me away to the war.
And the band played Waltzing Matilda, as the ship pulled away from the quay
And amidst all the cheers, the flag-waving and tears, we sailed off for Gallipoli
And how well I remember that terrible day, how our blood stained the sand and the water
And of how in that hell that they called Suvla Bay, we were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.
Johnny Turk he was waiting, he’d primed himself well. He shower’d us with bullets,
And he rained us with shell. And in five minutes flat, he’d blown us all to hell
Nearly blew us right back to Australia.
But the band played Waltzing Matilda, when we stopped to bury our slain.
We buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs, then we started all over again.
And those that were left, well we tried to survive, in that mad world of blood, death and fire
And for ten weary weeks, I kept myself alive, though around me the corpses piled higher
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head, and when I woke up in my hospital bed,
And saw what it had done, well I wished I was dead. Never knew there was worse things than dyin’.
For I’ll go no more waltzing Matilda, all around the green bush far and free
To hump tent and pegs, a man needs both legs-no more waltzing Matilda for me.
So they gathered the crippled, the wounded, the maimed, and they shipped us back home to Australia.
The legless, the armless, the blind, the insane, those proud wounded heroes of Suvla
And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay, I looked at the place where me legs used to be.
And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me, to grieve, to mourn, and to pity.
But the band played Waltzing Matilda, as they carried us down the gangway.
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared, then they turned all their faces away
And so now every April, I sit on me porch, and I watch the parades pass before me.
And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march, reviving old dreams of past glories
And the old men march slowly, old bones stiff and sore. They’re tired old heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask, what are they marching for? And I ask myself the same question.
But the band plays Waltzing Matilda, and the old men still answer the call,
But as year follows year, more old men disappear. Someday no one will march there at all.
Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda, who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
And their ghosts may be heard as they march by that billabong, who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
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NOTES:
“Matilda” - the backpack and associated gear used by livestock drovers and prospecters
In remote areas of the Australian outback.
“Swag” - canvas sleeping bag
“Billabong” - creek or estuary, generally with an outlet to the sea and containing more or less brackish water.