
REFLECTIONS OF THE
11TH DAY
Peter Adamis - Abalinx
11 November 2024
The time came to make
the annual walk across the road the Watsonia
RSL to pay tribute in my own small way to
those who have since passed on in history
but as always be remembered. As a young lad
growing up during the early Fifties amongst
the suburbs of Prahran and St Kilda areas;
attending the local Primary school paying
homage to those who had fought and died in
wars we knew not.
I can still vividly
remember the Headmaster lining us all up in
our respective classes and facing the
flagpole which was situated at the back of
the school building next to the school yard.
The National Anthem "God Save the Queen"
being sung by all followed by a small speech
by the Head master, who advised us of the
sacrifices of the Australian Defence Force
men and women who had fallen in battle, the
evils of war. We all stood to attention,
disciplined at such an early age trying to
comprehend what it was all about but at the
same time realising that this day something
important and we had to take notice.
In those days, respect
for the fallen was visibly seen and all
traffic stopped throughout Melbourne at the
11th hour. Traffic Police throughout
Melbourne would use their whistles to stop
the traffic and ensure that no vehicles were
moving and all ensure a silent tribute being
observed. In the streets, people would stop
as if a siren had gone off alerting people
that I was time to observe that silent
tribute. If one was near a government
building that was flying the Australian
Flag, many men would salute while women
simply looked up silently at with pride on
their faces.
As youngsters all of
this was new to my brother Philip and I and
it baffled us why people stopped in the
street at a particular hour. Phillip and I
had migrated along with our parents when we
were aged three and four years old and the
world was our oyster in a land we knew not.
However as we grew up and embraced
Australian values we began to fully
understood the significance of that moment.
I wanted to be part of that society that
demonstrated respect for those who had
fought, fallen and died for freedoms we
enjoy this day. Suffice to say some 58 years
later, I am paying a silent tribute in my
own way.
At the time of writing
this tiny tribute, I am sitting in the back
room of our home located across the road
from the Watsonia RSL. The room has wide
windows enabling the room to be illuminated
by the morning sun and enjoying the many
trees and flora surrounding the room.
Each tree and bush has
a name of a friend or relative and it is a
constant reminder that life continues on
despite we leaving our earthly existence and
taking another journey which we know not. I
looked at the laptop clock and noticed that
the time was 10.30 am. Taking note how long
it would take me to change into something
more respectable as I was in tracksuit
pants, I said to myself that I had plenty of
time as the RSL is only 30 seconds walk
across the road and the car park.
I dragged myself
upstairs, found a pair of trousers, put them
on along with my top and footwear and went
through the process of going through the
myriad of doors before I would find myself
in front of the house. I looked back at the
house and said that I am going to have to
knock the bloody house down as it has served
its purpose, with the four boys grown up and
the my lovely wife and I moved into
something less spacious. Still it would be
with regret as we had many wonderful
memories of the home and gardens. The boys
and I had worked our butts off in making it
look like a home that was functional and at
the same time hospital. It was a very old
home that should have been knocked down many
years ago, but you know how it once you get
attached to something.
My mind returned to
what lay ahead and I sauntered across the
one way road and slowly walked the last
forty paces to a position where I could view
the catafalque party, distinguished guests,
the throng of people from Watsonia and
surrounding areas. The normal run of the
mill mob was there, the President o the RSL
who was a Vietnam veteran and ex Policeman,
The RSL Committee, my neighbour Margaret
(bless her soul) who is an integral part of
the RSL and in my mind the soul of those
living around the RSL. The catafalque party
were all young men, from various Corps while
on the other hand the catafalque commander
was a Corporal, who had a chest full of
medals and arms covered in tattoos.
Catafalque Party
arrives
I breathed a sigh of
relief that I had arrived in time for the
tribute and to pay my respect to men and
women of an era whose life histories now
form part of the Australian way of life and
culture. The legacies that they left behind
were not lost on succeeding generations or
to the many like myself who had were not
born of this land but had made Australia
home. War is war and I am so fortunate that
in my thirty years service I was very
fortunate to have seen peace time service.
When I have 'reflections of the 11th hour'
it is not only about the fallen and those
whose lives were extinguished, it's also
about the uselessness of war and the misery
it causes and I am sure that those who
helped raise funds to build the Shrine of
Remembrance in Melbourne wanted to leave
behind a monument to reflect their struggle
against the evils of tyranny.
For this little black
sheep of the family, the only service
considered "Whilst on War Service" according
to my records is my time in Malaya/Singapore
and my two stints at Butterworth, Penang,
Malaysia where the communist "Ching Pen" was
still active in parts. It is of interest
that we who saw service at Butterworth are
still to be recognised accordingly, while
other peace keeping forces have been
acknowledged accordingly. Mind you I am not
the only one to feel somewhat chagrined and
short changed, but what can one do but take
it on the chin and just get on with life.
Maybe someday in the future some bright
spark will realise the error of the ways and
review the reasons for our three month
deployment.
Lowering of the
Australian flag
Back at the RSL, the
bugler played the last post; all went quiet
for a moment only to be disturbed by a
vehicle silently making its way through the
car park. Some looked at it in disgust,
others looked away and yet some still just
stared at the driver. Whatever the case may
have been I would have hated to be in the
driver's seat of that vehicle driving
through the car park seeking a parking spot.
With the vehicle gone,
my mind drifted back to the bugler and the
sweet tones that came out reminding me of
another musical instrument that always
brought a lump to my throat that of the bag
pipes. Most people believe that the bagpipes
are a Scottish invention, but the truth of
the matter is that it was a Greek invention.
Bagpipes were used by the ancient Spartans
when marching off to war and if one is
curious enough to conduct research they will
find carvings on walls of .ancient temples
or city polis ruins.
I thought of the men
and women of WW1 which in effect was the
world's first modern war using new
technologies that changed the face of the
world forever. Dynasties and kingdoms fell,
new nations formed; society as it was known
then was transformed, followed by a horrific
influenza epidemic that wiped out just as
many if not more that WW1 itself. Those who
survived were never to be the same and every
sought to find solace in whatever time they
had left. Shell shocked, gassed, broken
mentally and physically, these men somehow
survived the horrors of war with the help of
family, relatives and friends support, while
others succumbed to the ravages and after
effects of their war experience.
I had come to realise
early in my Army career why each town that I
had travelled through had a small marble
digger, memorial granite, column, archway,
avenues and streets in memory of those who
never returned or died since their return.
The emotion experienced by that generation
cannot be given any value as there are no
known scales to measure the pain and sorrow
felt by all.
The bugler playing the
last post
As the final sound
left the edge of the bugle, I thought of
those who had served in WW2, Korea, Borneo,
Malaysia, and the Indonesian Confrontation
who were given and provided with the
necessary support upon their return from
operational duties.
Of those men and women
veterans who were deployed to Somalia,
Rwanda, Afghanistan, Iraq, East Timor,
Solomon Islands, Singapore, Butterworth and
other peace keeping operations and hoped
that experiences were acknowledged
appropriately. Unlike those who returned
from Vietnam who were treated as second
class citizens in their own country. These
Vietnam veterans who received such a hostile
reception by a people who should have known
better left a negative effect on them. One
hopes that this type of appalling behaviour
is never repeated again to our young
veterans.
I turned and left the
throng of people and made my way back across
the road. I knew that I could not stay long
as I was in danger due to my low immune
system (neutropenic) as a result of
chemotherapy for a form of lymphoma. What
does one do under such circumstances, stay
at home and wilt like a flower that is
dehydrating for lack of nutrition and water
and/or does one make a decision and live
life as one believes it should be lived. I
had made my decision that for one small
moment, I could still pay my tribute to the
men and women who have since gone onto
another world without causing too much
damage to my system. I believe that it is a
small price to pay when others have paid the
ultimate one and in any case we were not
meant to live forever.
As always, I apologise
to the purists for the grammar and
punctuation.
Peter Adamis is a
Journalist/Social Media Commentator and
writer. He is a retired Australian military
serviceman and an Industry organisational &
Occupational (OHS) & Training Consultant
whose interests are within the parameters of
domestic and international political
spectrum. He is an avid blogger and
contributes to domestic and international
community news media outlets as well as to
local and Ethnic News. He holds a Bachelor
of Adult Learning & Development (Monash),
Grad Dip Occupational Health & Safety,
(Monash), Dip. Training & Assessment, Dip
Public Administration, and Dip Frontline
Management. Contact via Email:
abalinx@netspace.net.au or via Mobile:
0409965538