Remembrance Day Address

Good morning.

I want to begin by acknowledging the Menang Noongar People, the traditional custodians of the land on which we meet today, and pay my respects to their Elders past and present.

I would like to extend that respect to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples who join us today.

I acknowledge the current and ex-serving members of the Australian Defence Force (ADF) who are with us today. Thank you for your service.

And I also acknowledge the families of current and ex-serving members. Thank you for your support and the sacrifices you make.

It’s a great privilege to be here with you on Remembrance Day.

It’s a time when we gather to honour the more than 103,000 Australians who lost their lives, as well as all those who suffered in wars, conflicts and peacekeeping operations.

It’s a time to unite in a minute of solemn reflection and pay tribute to their sacrifice and that of their families.

On the eleventh hour, of the eleventh day, of the eleventh month in 1918, the guns fell silent on the Western Front.

For more than four years the First World War had raged.

In the waterlogged trenches of Europe, across the sun-bleached sands of the Middle East, in the rugged valleys of Gallipoli and scattered across the floors of silent seas, between 15 and 19 million people lay slain.

A generation lost.

More than 300,000 Australians served overseas in that conflict; more than 60,000 died.

During the First World War the Anzac legend was born.

And Albany holds a special place in that legend.

In 1914 two convoys, carrying soldiers and nurses, set out from the deep water harbour here at King George Sound.

For many, the green hills of Albany and the calm blue waters of the Sound would be their last sight of Australia.

Standing here today, it is hard to imagine what those men and women must have felt as they waited for the convoy to depart.

Eager anticipation?

Nervous anxiety?

The sense of embarking on a grand adventure?

We know spirits were high among some.

When HMS Suffolk docked, a band played and local girls threw bouquets, handkerchiefs, gloves and photos to the passing troops. 

One Private, George Cowell, said it was ‘the best time [they’d] had for a long while.’

Although shore leave was forbidden, after a parade, several soldiers from SS Afric slipped away disguised as firefighters.

They had a night on the town and returned to the ship under the cover of dark.

They were filled with vigour, living for the moment.

Many would soon find themselves facing stiff Turkish resistance and the stark cliffs and gullies of Gallipoli.

Many who survived the Gallipoli campaign, or who followed after, were bound for the Western Front.

There they would find a landscape carved up by barbed wire and trenches.

A place where shells rained from above and the new technology of an industrial age had been turned to wholesale slaughter.

One son of Albany, the Reverend Arthur White, witnessed these scenes for himself when he arrived on the Western Front in 1916.

I’m sure many of you here know his story.

Arthur White had been born in London in 1883.

From an early age, a middle ear infection plagued his health.

In 1912, it drove him to immigrate to Australia, in search of a kinder climate.

He ministered to the people of the region, until he too was swept up in the war.

He enlisted in the 44^th battalion as an army Chaplain – a padre.

He served in France, administering the last rights to many ill, injured and dying soldiers.

For many, his may have been the last kind face they saw, the last comforting words they heard.

He listened to their final confessions, he carried their last thoughts of love to their families.

We do not have words to describe the horrors he surely saw in the field hospitals among the rows of stretchers.

Eventually, the cold weather wreaked its own havoc on his ear condition, causing him great pain, and he was repatriated to Australia in 1918.

But though he left the front, he carried the experience of the suffering he witnessed for the rest of his life.

It lit a fire within him to remember all those who served, to honour their sacrifice and ensure their legacy would endure.

In 1929 Padre White returned to Albany as the rector at Saint John’s Anglican Church.

It was while here that he is often credited with beginning the Anzac Day tradition of the dawn service.

Padre White knew for many Albany had been their last sight of Australia.

So it was only fitting that at the first light on Anzac Day, a service should be held to commemorate their memory.

Each year, the padre would lead a pilgrimage to the summit of Mount Clarence.

And as the dawn’s rays broke over the land they would hold a service as a boat set a wreath adrift in the tranquil waters of King George Sound.

Today—on Remembrance Day—we still gather here to remember the 300,000 Australians who served and the 60,000 who never returned.

It was said that the Great War was the war to end all wars.

That was never to be true.

Since the guns fell silent over the Western Front 104 years ago, Australians have been called upon time and again to serve, in wars and conflicts right around the globe.

And for 75 years Australians have also served around the globe in numerous peacekeeping and humanitarian missions.

This year I was privileged to pay my respects in Canberra at a service for the 75^th anniversary of Australia’s, and the world’s, first international peacekeeping mission.

Every year since 1947, Australians have participated in missions all over the world.

Australians have served in places as diverse as the Middle East, Africa, Afghanistan, Cyprus, East Timor, Bougainville and the Solomon Islands.

Tragically, 16 Australians have lost their lives during peace operations.

They too answered our nation’s call to service.

In total, more than 103,000 Australians have died in that service.

Today we remember them all.

Like many of you here today, I wear the Remembrance Day poppy to call to mind all those who served, and their families.

And we remember the sacrifices they made.

This is what Padre White had wanted to instil in us.

He left Albany in 1938, but would go on to Minister in numerous towns around Australia.

He died in 1954, in Herberton, Queensland.

In accordance with his wishes there is no name on his final resting place; no recognition of who he was.

Only a simple cross marks his grave and the words, ‘A Priest’.

The man who worked so hard to protect the legacy of our service men and women sought no legacy for himself.

Even so, the tradition of the dawn service, and that act of remembrance lives on.

Today, the work Padre White began is entrusted to us.

It is up to us to ensure those who suffered or lost their life are never forgotten.

It is up to us to honour the service of the hundreds of thousands of Australians who answered our nation’s call.

It is up to us to remember.

So, on behalf of a grateful nation, to all those who served, and to all the families who supported them, we say thank you.

Lest we forget.

ENDS

Authorised by The Hon Matt Keogh MP.

Open Arms – Veterans & Families Counselling provides 24/7 free confidential crisis support for current and ex-serving ADF personnel and their families on 1800 011 046 or the Open Arms website. Safe Zone Support provides anonymous counselling on 1800 142 072. Defence All-Hours Support Line provides support for ADF personnel on 1800 628 036 or the Defence Health Portal. Defence Member and Family Helpline provides support for Defence families on 1800 624 608