School Spirit

Today was the last day in the classroom this week. Tomorrow is our House Sports day, and Friday is ANZAC Day itself, so today was the final chance I had to pass on a few of the stories about Gallipoli to the kids and try to get across at least some of the tragedy, humour and sheer grit and nobility of those ‘first’ ANZACs in 1915. I suppose I might as well start at the beginning.

It was yesterday we sat down as a group and I told them the story of Lone Pine. A trench-covered stretch of land who’s only notable feature was a lonesome pine tree growing on top of a small hill. It was one of several major offensives the Allies attempted in early August, 1915 to break the stalemate, and we only had a short amount of time to bring it to the kids’ attention yesterday. This morning we made a little more time to go into a little more detail. Keep in mind these kids are eight to ten year olds, but I only pulled punches when I really felt I had to.

Trench warfare is the first thing that started to show them that the life of a soldier is not such an adventure after all. One bullet down the spout and when it’s fired, you have to stand and reload. They quickly worked out that no Turk in his right mind was going to stand politely by while you reloaded your rifle to shoot him down again. The answer was the bayonet, that footlong piece of steel attached to the end of your rifle. To stab into the next poor bloke you ran up against. As expected, a few of them, mostly boys, let’s be honest, thought that sounded pretty cool. Until I pulled out a 40cm ruler and told them that was about the size of the blade being stabbed into your gut. Not such the glorious, clean adventure it was made out to be, is it?

They finished beginning to wonder what the whole point of battles like these were when we finished talking about Lone Pine and how the Australians captured the position and held it for six days with 2300 casualties. But their ears pricked up when I spoke more about the tree itself.

After the battle, seeds from the Lonesome Pine were taken by a digger. I don’t know his name, and I don’t know if many do, but he eventually brought the seeds back to Australian when he returned. They were planted, I believe but could be mistaken, at the Shrine of Remembrance in Melbourne, where they have since grown into another pine, the son of the Lone Pine, if you will. The kids recognised the family ‘tree’, as it were, and thought that was a fitting way to remember the battle, even though they thought it a waste of life for no real outcome. But the story didn’t end there. Seeds from that tree were then taken, a few years ago, and planted. From those grew hundreds of new, young pines, grandchildren of the Lonesome Pine. One of them ended up in a very special place.

‘Where did that one go?’ they asked eagerly, interest rising by the moment.

‘It’s planted in the garden outside the office.’

Yes, like all primary schools were supposed to receive, we have a small pine tree growing in our school yard which can trace its roots, as it were, back to that single Lonesome Pine that bore witness to that battle all those years ago. The kids quickly agreed it was clearly the most important tree in the school.

That afternoon, I finished the story, in a way. The following day was the battle of the Nek, and the 600 Lighthorse who were to capture it. The kids agreed that bombarding the position with ship artillery to scare the Turks off was a clever way of starting things off, so the Lighthorse could run across No Man’s Land with their bayonet charge and take the trench as easily as possible. They were devastated to learn that one of the commanders’ watches was seven minutes slow, which gave the Turks time to man their machine guns again.

When they learned that three waves of soldiers were sent over into a rain of machine gun fire before the attack was eventually called off they were all but silent.

But only for a moment before they all voiced their opinions over a futile and pointless attack. 300 dead in such a short time and in an area the size of two tennis courts. When they realised our school has only 370 odd kids, the number soon became even more powerful.

It was then that I sat them down to listen to ‘And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda’.

After that none of them left that afternoon thinking war was an adventure for the boys. It’s not a great adventure if your legs get blown off.

Hopefully it will send a few more of them to the parade on Friday.

Related posts: And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda, Two Little Boys,

Technorati Tags: ANZAC Day, Lone Pine, The Nek, Gallipoli

This would be one of my all time favourite songs, and I make sure the kids hear it leading up to ANZAC Day each year. As Thursday will be our House Sports Day and I’ll barely see half of the kids for much of the day, they’re going to hear it tomorrow instead. With a bit of luck it will interest more of them into trying to drag their parents to the parade on ANZAC Day. I know some of them will be there, and one of them has all but dared me to meet him at the dawn service, but if it gets more of them there to see the real diggers walking by, then fantastic. If it just opens their eyes a little more to the history of our military and how we honour a defeat rather than a major victory like most nations, then that’s more than enough too.

It tells the story of a digger landing at Gallipoli on 25th April, 1915, and then returning home to Australian via Sydney on the first ANZAC Day, 25th April,1916. The words written here are the ones I use and learned, not quite the same as those Eric Bogle sings on the clip to the side. I play it in C as it’s easy to finger pick for me, but again, I sometimes use a capo to get it to a better key for the kids. Here is the progression for those who are interested. The verse and chorus are the same for each of the five sections. It’s in 3/4 time.

C / F / C / Am / C / G / C G/G C /
C / F / C / Am / C / G / C G/G C /
G7/ G7 / F / C / G7/ G7/ F / C /
C / F / C / Am / C / G / C G/G C /Chorus
C / F / C / C / C / F / G7 / G7 /
F / F / C / Am / C / G / C G/G C /

And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda

Now when I was a young man, I carried a 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 nineteen fifteen the country said ’son,
There’s no time for roving, there’s work to be done’.
So they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun
And they sent me away to the war.

And the band played Waltzing Matilda as the ship pulled away from the quay.
And ‘midst all the cheers, the flag waving and tears, we sailed off for Gallipoli.

How well I remember that terrible day,
How our blood stained the sand and the water.
And how in the Hell that they called Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.
Johnny Turk, he was ready, he’d primed himself well.
He rained us with bullets, he showered us with shell.
And in five minutes flat they’d blown us all to Hell.
Nearly blew us right back to Australia.

And the band played Waltzing Matilda as we stopped to bury the slain.
We buried ours and the Turks buried theirs - and we started all over again.

And those who 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
While 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 were dead.
Never knew there were worse things than dying.

For I’ll got no more Waltzing Matilda all around the wide bush far and free.
For to hump tents and pegs, a man needs both legs - no more Waltzing Matilda for me.

So they gathered the wounded, the crippled, the maimed
And they shipped us back home to Australia.
The armless, the legless, the blind, the insane.
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla.
And as the ship pulled in to Circular Quay
I looked at the place where my legs used to be
And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me
To grieve, to mourn and to pity.

And the band played Waltzing Matilda as they filed us down the gangway.
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared, and they turned all their faces away.

So now every April I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me.
I see my old comrades, how proudly they march,
Reliving old days and past glories.
But the old men march slowly, their bones stiff and sore.
Tired old heroes from a tired old 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 year after year more old men disappear - one day no one will march there at all.

Technorati Tags: ANZAC Day, Eric Bogle, Waltzing Matilda, Gallipoli

Today was the final week of the regular local cricket season. For myself, an eternal C Grade player because I’m really not the greatest cricketer going around, and not wanting to play two week matches in B Grade anyway, the season finished a week early with a bye this week. But… that gave us the chance to wander across the district to a little township further north to watch B Grade try to win their match in the hopes of making the finals next week.

More importantly, it was to see off a clubman who retired today after playing 436 matches for the club. And to see him off in style.

They were in to bat last week and made 236, leaving 10 wickets for them to take today while out there fielding. We set ourselves up around the boundary under the trees and away from the main stands with a few coldies in the esky and gave it our all. As the sun fell lower and lower in the sky, we slowly got louder and louder and had a good old afternoon calling out friendly and not so friendly sledges to the opposition and, more importantly, our teammates. Just because they’re out there playing doesn’t mean they’re not fair game to a friendly sledge! A long story short, they bowled them out for 220 and won the game. If results fall our way, they’ll play in the finals next week. But to be honest, that’s secondary.

Our old feller finished the match not out from his batting innings the week before, and fittingly came on to bowl at the end of the day and took the final wicket to win the match. Those of us who were there were quick to gather at the gate before he arrived (because he’s pushing it now and doesn’t move fast when he doesn’t have to) and formed a guard of honour for him to pass through.

One of the best moments I think I’ll ever have at the club.

I only had the privilege of playing one match with him since I joined the club, but looking back, having the opportunity to say I’ve batted with him once and hitting the winning runs in that match myself (of the half dozen I made) is something I can look back on proudly to say ‘I played alongside him’.

A nice, fitting way to send off a legend of the club, but not quite perfect.

We fixed that up tonight back at the club rooms with lots of beer.

Cricket’s a drinker’s game!