Our Anzac Day coverage: Remembering the stories of those that never made it home

Nick McCallum takes us through a heartfelt ANZAC Day tribute as we honour the brave men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice for our country. In this exclusive, we reflect on the stories of those who never made it home and think of the families across Australia and New Zealand who lost the ones they loved.

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:03):
It's a truism of Gallipoli. The greater the peace, the serenity,
the beauty of a cemetery, the greater the horror, the anguish,
the pain of the stories within. Ari Banu is the
closest cemetery to anzac Cove, where sixteen thousand young Australians

(00:24):
and New Zealanders landed under fire on April twenty fifth,
nineteen fifteen. Initially it was a slaughter. Many diggers did
not even make it out of the boats rowed ashore.
Many more were killed and wounded on the beach. Now
stand on that beach now and look up at the

(00:44):
hills and beyond, and you realize immediately they never had
a chance. As you shake your head in disbelief, your
imagination wanders. You feel as though you can hear the
deadly clatter of machine guns and the horrifying screams of
young men. It does send a chill down your spine.

(01:06):
But stroll into Aribanu Cemetery on a sunny still day
and you hear the water lapping gently on the shore.
If you're lucky, you can see dolphins bobbing up and
down just fifty meters from the beach, and the birds,
a cacophony of chirping. Its gorgeous, but then a jolt

(01:27):
back to reality. I always make a point of heading
to the grave of Frank Wawlings. He was a twenty
seven year old draftsman from Western Australia. His epitaph jumps out,
grabs me around the throat and chokes me up. Every
time I gasp, tears well into my eyes. Now I

(01:48):
have to turn away, my composure completely gone, my only
darling son. It is so simple, but it captures the agony,
the distress of a distraught mother so far away, to
whom Frank was, the little boy she nurtured, and the
young man she was so proud of. The love and

(02:10):
despair radiates from that stone. As a parent of two
sons myself, I can't even bear to imagine it. Just
think though, multiplied that eighty seven hundred times, right around
a nation just fifteen years after independence, still struggling with

(02:32):
the tyranny of distance and communication. That's how many young
Ossies were killed at Gallipoli. Not far from Frank's grave
is another I always visit. George Seeger, enlisted in the
Navy at just fifteen, but transferred to the Army. When
war broke out. He told authorities he was nineteen, but

(02:55):
he was really just seventeen when he was killed in Gallipoli.
On his grave again the pain of his parents at large.
He died a man and closed his life's brief day
ere it had scarcely begun. We all know seventeen year
old boys, our own sons, our relatives, our friends' children.

(03:19):
We all know the last place they should be is
on a battlefield. Both Frank and George were members of
the legendary Australian Lighthouse. They were highly trained, courageous riders,
their skills honed in the Australian Bush at Gallipoli, the terrain,
the steep hills, the ridges, the thick bush rendered their

(03:43):
riding skills and training redundant, so tragically they were used
as cannon fodder. Literally, both Frank and George were killed
in the bloody, pointless and infamous Chargers at Turkish trenches
on August seventh, nineteen fifteen, so graphically and powerfully defected.

(04:06):
In the end of the movie Gallipoli, go to where
they died now, and once again you shake your head
in disbelief. The area between where the Australian trenches and
the Turkish trenches were is not much bigger than a
tennis court. Yet wave after wave of young soldiers were

(04:29):
ordered to climb out of their trenches and sprint towards
machine guns. Just imagine the courage, the steely grit in
discipline required to do that, having seen wave after wave
of your mates massacred before your very eyes. Not far

(04:49):
from there is Walker's Ridge Cemetery, high on the hills.
Once again, it has a beautiful view overlooking the sparkling
aege and c usually dott with fishing boats, ferries to
nearby greg Islands, and tourist vessels bobbing in the distance.
It is a dyllic Buried there is Major Tom Redford.

(05:12):
He was, by all accounts, a dignified leader, respected and
well liked by his men. He inspired Bill Hunter's character
in the film Gallipoli. In one of the movie's most
poignant lines, as wave after wave is sent out to die,
Hunter says, I can't ask my men to do what

(05:33):
I wouldn't do myself. On that same principle, Major Redford
led his men out on the first suicidal wave. He
was killed after sprinting to within ten meters of the
Turkish trench. According to an eyewitness, down he went like
a lock. A friend later wrote, A braver and more

(05:55):
honorable man never donned a uniform. Tragically, he was just
one of one hundred and fifty four young Nossi's so
needlessly killed within minutes. It's bloody, heartbreaking. Last year we
visited Tom's grave with his descendant, leading seamen Claire Donohue.

(06:17):
She was to play at the dawn service in the
Defense Force band. She was deeply moved, fighting back tears.
He will absolutely be in the back of my mind.
I'm so proud of his courage. Once again I had
to turn away. As a twenty four year old reporter
in Canberra, I had the great honor of interviewing Gallipoli

(06:40):
veteran Charles Bingham as he marked the seventieth anniversary of
the landing at the Australian War Memorial. Kindly, gentle, passionate
Charles was a stretcher bearer at Gallipoli. He spoke of
the enormous responsibility and obligation he felt because he was
the person to whom many diggers uttered their last words.

(07:03):
It really struck a nerve with me. I couldn't comprehend
how someone younger than I was at the time could
cope with that time after time after time. When he
came back home after World War One ended, Charles dedicated
his life to visiting families of the fallen enter veterans welfare.

(07:25):
He insisted their sacrifices should never be forgotten. After I
interviewed him, he told me, when there were no more
Australian Gallipoli veterans the last one died in two thousand
and one, it would be up to journalists like myself
to ensure their stories live on. Keep on telling our stories,

(07:48):
he urged time and again. Now, every time I do
a story on veterans from any of the wars Australia
has been involved in, I think of Frank, George, Tom
and their grieving families. The words of Charles echo in
my mind, and I hope, in some small way we

(08:09):
are helping to ensure, as that great Australian Banjo Patterson
once wrote, their ghosts may be heard