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Descendants hail Anzac tradition

The significance of Anzac Day means so much to so many. Here, as Australia and the world marked the 100th anniversary of the Gallipoli landing, is a look through different eyes.


VIETNAM VETERAN: BRYCE BROWN

Bryce Brown. Picture: Michael O'Brien/The West Australian

As dawn broke over Monument Hill on Anzac Day, Bryce Brown’s thoughts turned to his father and all the other soldiers who fell for the freedom Australians enjoy today.

A few hours later, as he marched through Fremantle with fellow Vietnam veterans by his side, he remembered the mates he lost when he experienced war firsthand.

April 25 will always be the most sacred of days for the 66-year-old war veteran.

Each year, Mr Brown pays tribute to the fallen at the Monument Hill dawn service, then marches in the Fremantle parade and ends the day with a game of two-up.

He also goes to the cemetery to visit his father, who died of war causes after returning from New Guinea in the 1940s.
“Every year Anzac Day means more and more,” Mr Brown said.

“My mind seems to go back to the World War I and World War II blokes because they had it tough.

“You think of them in the trenches. That was total hell and it was totally different warfare.”

Mr Brown had 12 months of training in South Australia when he was 19 before being sent to Vietnam.

He made it back to Australia in time for his 21st birthday but like many veterans, experienced the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder years later.

Mr Brown said he would always share a special bond with the men who fought by his side.

“We are always glad to see each other because we all know what we went though,” he said.

“That bond never goes away, you are mates for ever.”

Mr Brown described the younger generations’ involvement in Anzac Day services as a “beautiful thing”.

“Let’s hope they never have to go through it,” he said.


WWII VETERAN: JACK LE CRAS

Watching her grandson Toby reach for her dad’s shiny war medals, Sue Whiting could not be prouder.

Four generations of her family attended the Anzac Day parade on Saturday as her father, 88-year-old World War II veteran Jack Le Cras, marched for the last time at the front of the procession of former servicemen as the State president of the Naval Association of Australia.

Ms Whiting’s three daughters Kate, Beth and Penny and son Ben wore replicas of their grandfather’s medals and carried the banners for the Naval Association and their grandfather’s ship, the Bataan, in the parade.

She said Beth had flown from Melbourne for the day so all four of Mr Le Cras’ grand-children would be there to march with him.

Mr Le Cras’ great grandchildren, both just one year old, watched from the sidelines.

“This is the most important day of my year, and it’s such an important thing to him as well,” Ms Whiting said. “All of my four children marched with Dad. It was a very proud moment.”

Mr Le Cras, who has been president of the association for seven years and has marched every year since 1951, said it was overwhelming to have four generations of his family with him on Anzac Day.

“They’re all here and it’s a significant occasion for me, especially with one of them coming over from Melbourne just for the day on her birthday,” Mr Le Cras said.


TURKISH SAILOR: SEYIT KAPLAN

Seyit Kaplan. Picture: Bill Hatto/The West Australian

Standing next to a Turkish flag at the Kings Park dawn service, wearing his Royal Australian Navy uniform with pride, Seyit Kaplan was a testament to the bonds formed at Gallipoli.

A century after Australian soldiers invaded his homeland, he bowed his head for a minute’s silence to honour the fallen from both nations.

His thoughts drifted between Gallipoli, his RAN colleagues and the friends he lost when an earthquake hit a Turkish naval base in 1999, killing more than 400 people.

The 45-year-old has a unique connection to the Anzac legend.

He reached the rank of senior chief petty officer during 17 years in the Turkish navy and he believed he was the first Turkish veteran to join the Australian Defence Force.

For his first five years with the Turkish navy, he was based at Gallipoli where about 80,000 Turks were killed and the future founder of modern Turkey, Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, made his mark. Every time his vessel went through the Dardanelles, the crew would remain silent while a poem about Gallipoli was read aloud from the bridge.

When he moved to Australia and joined the RAN in 2005, he was already well aware of the significance of the Gallipoli campaign — the Battle of Canakkale — to the Turkish people. He soon realised how much it meant to Australia and New Zealand.

“Gallipoli was a reason for both the Turks and the Anzacs to find their national identity,” Mr Kaplan said. “General Ataturk recognised it was time for Turkey to come forward and no longer just be part of the Ottoman Empire.

“At the same time, Australia’s identity became more independent from the UK.”

PO Kaplan is now based at the Anzac System Program Office in Rockingham.

“Because of the peace we have now in this country and in countries all over the world, we have to remember their sacrifice,” he said. “To have this many people at Kings Park today, there’s a lot of respect here.”

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HONOURED THROUGH THE YEARS
VILLERS-BRETONNEUX REMEMBERS
ANZACS WERE 'AUSTRALIANS AT OUR BEST'
CROWDS HONOUR ANZACS AT WA PARADES


YOUNG DESCENDANT: WILL THOMSON

WIll Thomson. Picture: Bill Hatto/The West Australian

For Will Thomson, 8, the centenary of the Gallipoli landing could mark the start of a new tradition for his family.

Will took part in the Anzac Day march for the first time, proudly wearing the World War I medals of his great-great-grandfather and namesake William Thomson, who served in the Royal Scots Greys British Army Regiment.

After learning about Anzac Day at school, he told his grand-father that he wanted to march.

Will's mother Emma said that because he showed such interest, she contacted the RSL to find out if he could take part.

Flanked by his grandfathers Terry Thomson and Brian Griffiths, who were also marching for the first time, Will stepped out with members of the British ex-services association.

While waiting for his group to form up, he enjoyed listening to veterans' stories and sharing Anzac biscuits baked by his grandmother Jan Griffiths.

His excitement reached fever pitch when the drums and bagpipes struck up.

Will, a Year 3 student, said he learnt about the history of Anzac day at his school, St Peter's Primary, in Inglewood.

"I learnt about Simpson and his donkey and the Gallipoli Peninsula," he said.

It felt "very special" to be wearing his great-great-grandfather's medals. But the highlight of the march was seeing people who lined the streets waving, clapping and cheering.


WAR WIDOW: SUE WILSON

Sue Wilson

As president of the WA branch of the War Widows’ Guild of Australia, Sue Wilson had plenty of organising to do in the lead-up to Anzac Day.

But when the last post sounded across Kings Park at dawn, the 72-year-old only had one thing on her mind. “It doesn’t matter how many times I go to the service, I still tear up when the last post is played,” Mrs Wilson said.

“It’s the most haunting sound. I just think of my husband. Every day you do.”

The WA members of the guild have marched at the Anzac Day parade for the past three years, since Mrs Wilson sought permission from the Returned and Services League.

Six of them marched behind their flag on Saturday, representing their husbands and the thousands of war widows across the country.

Mrs Wilson’s husband Mervyn was an engineer with the 17th Construction Squadron in Vietnam, where he was exposed to large amounts of the cancer-causing herbicide Agent Orange.

He died 19 years ago after a battle with multiple myeloma.

“When he came home from Vietnam, they told him he’d have to go back again,” Mrs Wilson said. “And I said, ‘It’s me and the three kids or the army’.

“He got out but the Agent Orange got him in the end.”

After the parade and speeches had ended, Mrs Wilson spent time with her family, including two great-grandchildren.
“I don’t like wars because they take too many of our young,” she said.

“I’m very pleased that none of my children or grandchildren have been called up.”