ANZAC Day has held a place in my heart for as long as I can remember.
This morning, standing at Dawn Service with my husband in the cold and dark, I found myself wondering: why do we go?
Not in the sense of why do we bother? Not that.
Never that.
More in the sense of trying to pinpoint what it is that has me committed to getting up early, as the mornings get colder, to stand among people I do not know, listening to speeches, the pipe band, prayers, silence, protests and names.
I do not love war. I do not admire it. I do not romanticise it. I am not interested in polishing war until it looks noble and tidy and convenient. War is horror. War is loss. War is people being asked - or ordered - to give up pieces of themselves that can never properly be returned.
And yet I go.
Partly because I love the pipes and the marching, yes. I am not made of stone. There is something about the sound of the bagpipes and the marching feet in the pre-dawn light that reaches straight past whatever else has been up front for me and pulls me straight into the emotion and meaning of the day.
But mostly, I think, I go because it is the least I can do.
The women and men we remember did not simply sacrifice “their lives” in the abstract way that phrase is often used. Some did die, and that loss is immense. But others came home carrying losses that did not fit neatly into public speeches.
They sacrificed time at home. Time with their parents, siblings, partners, wives, husbands, and children. They sacrificed the chance to have children at all. They sacrificed safety, certainty, sleep, health, innocence, ordinary futures, and sometimes their ability to feel at home again... even when they had technically returned.
They sacrificed versions of themselves their families never got back.
And I think a lot about the mornings.
Every year, standing there before dawn, I think about the mornings they had to face. Not one symbolic early start once a year, followed by breakfast, coffee, warm clothes, and the option of going home. Morning after morning after morning. Cold, hungry, frightened, exhausted, far from comfort, often without proper shelter, and without the luxury of choosing whether they felt like showing up.
So I show up.
Not because attending a Dawn Service balances the scales. It doesn’t. It can’t. But because remembrance should cost us something, even if only a little sleep, a little comfort, a little time, and the willingness to stand still with the weight of what was given before us.
This year I wore my crocheted poppy to Dawn Service. Last year, I crocheted poppies for the people in my team at work, which was my small way of making remembrance something handmade, deliberate, shared and encouraged. I also wore an antique 1915 tin ANZAC badge from one of the very first ANZAC commemorations. A small, fragile thing that makes the history feel close enough to touch.
Since 2012, I have reposted this piece each year. The original post was written in 2011 and includes the names, photographs, and service details of the family members I know of on my maternal side who served directly in war or conflict. Each year I return to it, update what I can, and say their names again.
Because remembrance is not a one-time action.
It is a practice.
It is getting up before dawn. It is pinning on a poppy. It is adding a date when a life has reached its end. It is keeping the record as accurate as I can. It is refusing to let these people become only symbols, because before they were names in a post, or faces in old photographs, or service numbers in military records, they were people.
Family members. Sons and daughters. Brothers and sisters. Husbands, wives. Uncles, aunts. Cousins. Mothers. Fathers...
People who lived ordinary lives until history, politics, duty, pressure, empire, courage, fear, or all of the above pulled them into something far larger and more terrible than themselves.
I worry about a future where remembrance becomes perfunctory. Where we are so many generations removed from first-hand family memory that the words are still said, but the feeling has thinned out. Where “Lest we forget” becomes something we repeat because it is printed in the programme, not because we have stopped to consider what forgetting would actually mean.
So I repost this again.
With updates. With care. With gratitude. And with the hope that saying their names, telling their stories, and standing in the dark once a year helps keep remembrance from becoming hollow.
Lest we forget.
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"The
light of adventure that shone so brightly in our eyes when we set out was
extinguished that day.
For me not a glorification of war but a day of remembrance and respect for those men and women, husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters who suffered trauma and sacrifice no people should have to suffer in order that we are among the lucky people of the world who have the right to complain about things like the "glorification of war" on social media.
While I am standing in the chill and lifting-dark of early morning at the Dawn Service I am thinking about how cold, dirty, sick, hungry, lonely, confused, sore and scared the majority of soldiers were in that transitional time between night duties and day duties on front lines.
I also often think about the agonising unbearable unknowingness that people at home must have felt in a world before What's App, Snapchat, satellites, cellphones and high speed internet.
Not my idea of glory, that's for sure.
Thank you to these people below that I know of (and the ones I don't) who were changed immeasurably and in some cases lost their lives and futures as a consequence of war.
I do my best to remember you all, especially today.
Uncle John Henry "Jack" Park 1926 - 2023
Uncle Clarence Roland "Bob" Papps 1922 - 16th April 2015
WWII #NZ02069 Petty Officer Royal New Zealand Navy
Awarded War Medal 1939-1945, New Zealand War Service Medal
Uncle Robert Thomas "Bob" Silcock 1917 - 1999
WWII #296993: Trooper Armoured Brigade
4th Brigade 20th Battalion 2nd NZEF 1939 - 1945
He was part of a tank crew.
Uncle Leslie Donald "Les" Papps 1923 - 2006
WWII reg# 618429. Private in Infantry Reinforcements 2nd NZ Expeditionary Force.
Compulsory military training. He was called to service overseas including Egypt and Japan. He was part of Jayforce - 22 Infantry Battalion, C Company. Jayforce was the name given to the New Zealand military contingent that served in the British Commonwealth Occupation Force (BCOF) in Japan between 1946 and 1948. Around 12,000 New Zealanders were deployed as part of this peacekeeping mission to help demilitarise and rebuild post-war Japan.
Uncle Richard Neil Papps 1931 -
Malayan Emergency, 1948-1960 Service number Malaya 783052: Malaya Sergeant/Military Malaya FARELF (R21234083) New Zealand Infantry Regiment Malaya FARELF (R21234083) British Commonwealth Far East Strategic Reserve AWMM
Received the New Zealand Operational Services Medal
Great Uncle George Samuel Papps 1874 - 1948
Ian George Papps 1921 - 1973 (Great Uncle George's grandson)
Vietnam War #Vietnam 78828 New Zealand Air Force No. 41 Squadron, Vietnam Wing Commander
No. 41 Squadron was a transport unit of the Royal New Zealand Air Force (RNZAF). The squadron was formed in 1944, and conducted transport flights in the south Pacific during World War II. It remained active after the war, and flew supplies to the New Zealand occupation force in Japan. Three crews from the squadron participated in the Berlin Airlift during 1948 and 1949, and one of its flights was temporarily based in Singapore from 1949 to 1951. From 1955 the entire squadron was stationed at Singapore, from where it participated in the Malayan Emergency, Indonesia–Malaysia confrontation and Vietnam War. Detachments of No. 41 Squadron were also based in Thailand from 1962 to 1965. The squadron was disbanded in 1977
Great Uncle Henry (Harry) Papps 1878 - 1958
Dennis Henry Papps 1921 - 1973 (Great Uncle Harry's son)
WWII #NZ1514 Royal New Zealand Navy, HMS Archilles
HMNZS Achilles was a Leander-class light cruiser, the second of five in the class. She served in the Royal New Zealand Navy in the Second World War. She was launched in 1932 as HMS Achilles for the Royal Navy, placed in the New Zealand Division of the Royal Navy in 1936, and transferred to the new Royal New Zealand Navy in 1941. As HMS Achilles, with a mix of British and New Zealander crew, she became famous for her part in the Battle of the River Plate in 1939, alongside HMS Ajax and HMS Exeter and notable for being the first Royal Navy cruiser to have fire control radar, with the installation of the New Zealand-made SS1 fire-control radar in June 1940.[2]
After Second World War service in the Atlantic and Pacific, she was returned to the Royal Navy. She was sold to the Indian Navy in 1948 and recommissioned as INS Delhi. She was scrapped in 1978.
Great Uncle Edgar Noble Papps 1908 - 1998
Great Uncle Charlie Papps 1883 - 1943
Great Uncle George Samuel Papps 1874 - 1948
Great Uncle Arthur Papps 1888 - 1977
WWI #33149 Lieutenant New Zealand Rifle Brigade
Lyndsay Mason Papps 1919 - 2000 (Great Uncle Arthur's son)
WWII #42934 Sergeant New Zealand Medical Corps, 2nd NZ Expeditionary Force
Morris James Papps 1922 - 2001 (Great Uncle Arthur's son)
WWII #448125 Private New Zealand 27 Machine Gun Battalion
Eric William Papps 1922 - 1990 (Great Uncle Arthur's son)
WWII #456076 Private New Zealand 27 Machine Gun Battalion
Great Uncle Herman Wendleborn 1896 - 1962
WWI #7/1160 & WW2
At the outbreak of WWII, Herman re-enlisted for duty with the Home Guard. He again changed his date of birth, this time to make himself seem younger (40 instead of 43). He served at Papakura Military Camp, Waiouru Military Camp, and HMNZS Devonport until his discharge on 2 January 1944.
Great Uncle Laurence Wendelborn 1893-1918
WWI #7/291 Corporal
His military awards included the 1914-15 Star, the British War Medal and the Victory Medal.
He was wounded in action at Gallipoli on around the 7th August 1915 and admitted to hospital on the 9th. He was discharged back to base and readmitted to hospital a few times throughout August, through September and into Dec 1915. On 13 Nov 1918 he was admitted to the Featherston Military Camp Hospital in Wellington and died on 15 November 1918, age 25.
Great Uncle Darkie Wendelborn 1884 - 1952
Clifford Wendelborn 1914-1995 (Great Uncle Darkie's son)
WW2
Lance Corporal Clifford Laurence Wendelborn - serial number 16215. Clifford served as an infantryman, despatch rider, tankman and driver during WWII. He repeatedly refused promotion.
Ron Wendelborn (Great Uncle Darkie's son)
WW2 Reg #: 21111 NZ Army Corp 1939/1945
Jack Leslie Friend 1920 - 25 May 1941
WW2 reg #8378
Second New Zealand Expeditionary Force (2NZEF), 1st Echelon 20 Canterbury and Otago Battalion
Died of his battle wounds in Crete
Stanley James Wendelborn 1919 - 1945
WW2 Gunner, New Zealand Artillery, 4 Field Regiment
Died at war - Cassino, Italy
Henry (Harry) John Windleborn 1910 - 1988
WW2 Chief Petty Officer Airman
Military awards include the 1939-45 Star, the Africa Star, the Pacific Star (Burma clasp), War Medal 1939-45 and the New Zealand War Service Medal.
Percy Herbert Windleburn 1885 – 1945
WW1
New Zealand Mounted Rifles, Reserve Battalion. # 80399. When he enlisted in 1918, Percy gave his birth year as 1890 rather than 1885, making it appear that he was only 28.
Lawerence (Lon) CF Windleburn 1897 – 1974
WW1 New Zealand Expeditionary Force 42nd Reinforcements D Company
Philip Edward (Tulip) Windleborn 1920 - 1990
WW2 Korean War reg # 72279 & 207892
- 1939-45 Star
- Pacific Star
- Italy Star
- Defence Medal
- War Medal 1939-45
- New Zealand War Service Medal
- Korea Medal 1950-53
- The United Nations Medal (Korea)
WW1 reg #: 26461 New Zealand Expeditionary Force, 14th Reinforcements New Zealand Engineers
Percival August Edward Schroder 1896 -
WW1 Reg # 35501 NZ Rifle Brigade 11th Reinforcements 4th Battalion, (H Company )
Albert Charles SCHRODER 1874 - 1929
WW1 reg# 72861. New Zealand Expeditionary Force 37th Reinforcements C Company
Bernard Austin Schroder 1897 - 1956
WW1 reg# 25/570. NZ Rifle Brigade 3rd Battalion, C Company
Cecil Lawerence Schroder 1883 - 1968
WW1 reg# 59463 New Zealand Expeditionary Force, 31st Reinforcements Auckland Infantry Regiment, A Company
Henry James Schroder 1881 - ?
WW1 reg#25/144 New Zealand Expeditionary Force 3rd Battalion, B Company
Arthur Charles Schwass 1905 - 1982
WW1 reg#74550 New Zealand Expeditionary Force 40th Reinforcements E Company
Leo Philip Schwass 1897 - 1918
WW1 reg#48413 New Zealand Expeditionary Force 26th Reinforcements Canterbury Infantry Regiment, C Company killed in action 15 July 1918 Nord-Pas-de-Calais, France
Sidney Charles Schwass
WW1 Reg# 29307 New Zealand Expeditionary Force 18th Reinforcements Canterbury Infantry Battalion, C Company
Richard Sydney Papps 1919 - 1993
WWII Reg# 43259 New Zealand Army Driver/Military 2nd New Zealand Division, 2nd Expeditionary Force
Harry Cole Papps 1891 - 1917 ( Killed in Action, Ypres, Belgium)
WW1 Reg# 9/1476 Otago Mounted Rifles, 7th Reinforcements, Corporal/Military New Zealand Machine Gun Corps, 1 Company
WW1, Canterbury Infantry Regiment, 2 Battalion, 13 Company
Polygon Wood (Polygoneveld, or Bois de Polygone), named for its shape, was a large wood near the Ypres-Menin road at Veldhoekn (north east of Ypres), Belgium.
A prominent artificial mound in the wood, called the Butte, had been used by the Belgian army as a shooting range prior to 1914. Fought over during the First Battle of Ypres in October/November 1914, it thereafter remained in German hands until Third Battle of Ypres (aka The Battle of Passchendaele) in 1917.
The NZ Division went to Polygon Wood during the winter of 1917-1918 (about October). It was a very cold winter. NZ suffered about 3000 losses during that winter in Polygon Wood. They carried out the attack on Polderhoek Chateau on the right hand side of Polygon Wood on 3 December.
On the 13 December Lewis was killed in action here.
At the end of February 1918 the NZ Division were relieved from their post.
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