We went over to Gallipoli to fight,

We were all volunteers in our brigade,

Our men fought hard against the Turks – and fearsome fighters we made,

The destruction and rank desolation, went as far as the eye could see,

But we endured the battlefield’s mire,

For brave patriots then were we,

It should be freely and fully admitted,

That there were awful times for us all,

But we knew there’d be a high price to pay, when we answered the Empire’s call,

We joined for honour and freedom,

Marched to the tune of a stirring song,

And we fought hard for our country’s sake,

As our nation could do no wrong,

Our people will never forget us, or our tragedies in barbed wire and mud,

For we created the Anzac legend — but we had to write it with our blood.

Andrew Guild, Croydon

My great uncle Benjamin Franklin Ellis,  who fought in France in WWI  with three of his brothers and who was injured in April 1918.  wrote:- 

’To you who may read this – have you ever thought of the uselessness of war in this manner?  Iron ore is taken from the ground, it is smelted, it is cast, it is turned, it is screwed, it is fitted with copper driving bands, it is filled, it is fitted with an aluminium cap, it is test, it is loaded on wagons, it is counted, it is invoiced, it is transported, it is shifted to France, again on rail, again on motor wagon, in a dup, again on a motor or horse wagon to battery, cap unscrewed,  cap screwed on, lifted to muzzle, fired, and then perhaps it lands in the middle of nowhere or it does not explode. If it does explode and hurts someone, then the trail of useless work carries on to the RAMC, clearing station, Field Hospital, Stretcher Bearers, Ambulance trains, Nurses, Doctors, Motors, Railway Boat, hospital, Artificial limbs, periodical journeys by rail, and  cost to nation.  I have tried to describe one shell and have left out a great deal of labour involved in the process, before it was fired.  War is madness.’

BFE

Joyce Webster, Tamworth

I’ve only ever witnessed one Anzac Day close up, and that was in St Kilda, the Melbourne suburb, about five years ago. I was visiting family and I made the mistake of going to St Kilda at about six in the evening. The streets were full of men - youths, really bare-chested, chest beating, fighting drunk. I can remember one man standing in the middle of the street, howling aggressively at anyone who made the mistake of catching his attention. If he and his mates had been military veterans returned and disturbed by war, I could have forgiven them, but I don’t think they were. It was, rather, a display of the alcohol-fuelled macho aggression I’m ashamed to say I had only previously witnessed in my own home town in Old South Wales on just another Friday night. This, surely, is not what Anzac Day is about.

So, what is it about? The question is controversial to say the least. It provokes real anger. And there is not one answer, certainly not from an outsider like me.

But what I hope it’s about is remembering lads, in their teens and barely out of them, who died in the most terrifying of circumstances to fulfill a selfless duty. Who can doubt that? I have stood on the Normandy beaches of France, in tears thinking about the same sort of boys who just jumped out of landing craft, into the face of death. Could I do the same? I’m not sure.

So those youngest of men - boys, really - in 1915 still moisten the eyes.

I am struck by how Anzac Day seems more important than Armistice Day, Remembrance Day, and that, presumably, is because Anzac Day is about more than remembering the dead. It is also a statement of Australian nationhood, a moment to symbolise Australian independence from a Britain which had used it, taken its support, its provision of young men to fight its wars, for granted. It is a founding myth of Australia when the relationship between the home country as it was falsely called, on the other side of the world, and here, this true home. So it seems to me, looking in from the outside.

On the first Anzac Day ceremony, in 1916, one of the speakers said that Australia’s voice “must be heard in the Councils of Empire because its men and women have fought and died in an Empire struggle”.

And today, the voices of Australians. The Glen Innes ceremony, for example, will have contributions from students at the High School, Australian students with Chinese backgrounds, Australian students whose parents and grandparents came from China.

It is worth remembering that China fought Japan long before Australia did. The Chinese war against Japan started in 1937.

Darwin was attacked and suffered, but it was nothing compared to Chinese suffering at the hands of the Japanese occupiers. In the massacre of Nanjing, the Rape of Nanking, as it used to be called, between 50,000 and 300,000 people were killed, not as collateral damage but as deliberate murder by Japanese soldiers. Rape was used as imperial punishment.

China and Australia fought the same enemy in the war that ended in 1945.

Anzac Day is about Australian pride and remembering brave young men. It’s also, it seems to me humby, about Australian identity, about what Australia means, where it fits in, about its place in the world.

There are no simple answers here, no right answer at the bottom of the page.

Anzac Day is a day of contemplation about complexity. Too much drink in St Kilda, maybe. Quiet thought everywhere else, definitely. So it seems to me in all humility.

Steve Evans, Fairfax Media journalist