With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children
England mourns for her dead across the sea,
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow,
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again,
They sit no more at familiar tables of home,
They have no lot in our labour of the daytime,
They sleep beyond England’s foam.
But where our desires and hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the night.
As the stars shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are stary in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.
“The Ode” by Laurence Binyon.
This is a poem traditionally said on ANZAC day (today) the day when we remember our soldiers that fought for our freedom.
And the following is one of the traditional ANZAC legends.
Simpson and his donkey
They died so that others may live
It is very fitting that one of the most celebrated Diggers in Australian folklore was no Rambo who shot everything than moved. To the contrary, he was a larrikin by the name of John Simpson who saved the lives of hundreds of men by disregarding his own orders and his own safety.
Simpson joined the army three weeks after the outbreak of World War 1. A big strapping lad, he was allotted to the Field Ambulance as a stretcher bearer. 8 months later he landed at ANZAC Cove, Gallipoli. Of the 1500 men who landed in the first wave, 755 remained in active service at the end of the day. The sheer number of casualties necessitated that stretcher bearing parties be reduced in the size from 6 to 2.
Acting alone, Simpson spied a deserted donkey in the wild overgrown gullies. He decided to use it to help carry wounded man to the beach and from then on, he and his donkey acted as an independent team. Instead of reporting to his unit, Simpson camped with the 21st Kohat Indian Mountain Artillery Battery which had many mules and nicknamed Simpson “Bahadur”, the “bravest of the brave”.
The refusal to report to his own field ambulance post was a direct affront to his Commanding Officer’s ego, not to mention considerations of military tradition, etiquette and discipline. For the first 4 days, he was technically a deserter until his CO, seeing the value of his work, agreed to turn a blind eye and approved his actions.
Simpson would start his day as early as 6.30 a.m. and often continue until as late as 3.00 a.m. He made the one and a half mile trip, through sniper fire and shrapnel, 12-15 times a day. He would leave his donkey under cover whilst he went forward to collect the injured. On the return journey he would bring water for the wounded. He never hesitated or stopped even under the most furious shrapnel fire and was frequently warned of the dangers ahead but invariably replied “my troubles”.
After seeming to gain an aura of someone with divine protection, Simpson was killed. He was subsequently recommended for the Victoria Cross, twice, and the Distinguished Conduct Medal. The commander of the 4th Brigade, Colonel Monash, said:
“Private Simpson and his little beast earned the admiration of everyone at the upper end of the valley. They worked all day and night throughout the whole period since the landing, and the help rendered to the wounded was invaluable. Simpson knew no fear and moved unconcernedly amid shrapnel and rifle fire, steadily carrying out his self-imposed task day by day, and he frequently earned the applause of the personnel for his many fearless rescues of wounded men from areas subject to rifle and shrapnel fire.”
Padre George Green, who lead Simpson’s burial service, later said : “If ever there was a man deserve the Victoria Cross it was Simpson. I often remember now the scene I saw frequently in shrapnel Gully, of that cheerful soul calmly walking down the gully with a Red Cross armlet tied round the donkey’s head. That gully was under direct fire from the enemy almost all the time.”
Although Simpson had the respect of all those who knew him, his larrikin ways did not endear him to the authorities thus all nominations for posthumous decoration, have been declined.
