Resting Place Of Breaker Morant

The story of Breaker Morant is one etched into the Australian folk law, I assume because we all studied it at school, and the name is paired with the notion of "war hero" and a sense of injustice and wrongdoing.

A Lieutenant in the Second Boer War, Morant and colleague Hancock were court martialed and sentenced to death for the summary execution of captured prisoners-of-war - so a convicted war criminal.

But much speculation surrounds the events and evidence of the deaths of the captured prisoners, and I remember clearly the arguments around chain of command and therefore responsibility from our studies of the story at school. Re-reading some of the background for this post, I am now, again, totally confused about the circumstances. But I remember the name as such an important one within the fabric of Australian war history.

Morant was buried with Hancock in Pretoria, where they were both executed just over 100 years ago.

I wouldn't have actually recalled the connection with South Africa and this Aussie war story, but for a little snippet about the gravesite in the Lonely Planet. On a day off before the cricket in February, around the anniversary of their deaths in fact, we made a trip to search out such a unique part of Australian wartime stories.

The graves are in Hero Acre Cemetery, which was not actually labelled as such, and our very patient bongo-driver tried his best to work with our lack of an idea of what we were looking for. When we got to the unmarked cemetery, we all walked around for some time, reaching a point where I was sure some of the group was going to give up on such a hunt, with such flimsy instructions to find what we were looking for.

But then someone spotted the little sign on a path, which pointed us to the right section, and we had found it. It felt pretty significant to reach the resting point of such a famous name, in such a tricky place to find. A very Aussie moment, on another continent, far away.

The Death Railway And Hellfire Pass

Riding the railway from Kanchanaburi to Nam Tok, as far as the rail goes now, is a sombering experience. I love travelling on a train, but everytime I felt myself get carried away with the clack of the tracks and the gentle rocking of the rickety carriage, I reminded myself of the sacrifices made to lay these very tracks down.

The train rolls across the bridge over Mae Klong River - made into the River Kwai by Hollywood and the movie of the same name, and then heads away from town through the countryside.

It soon glides over a Viaduct, on the edge of a mountain, and the wonder of how these POWs built this section returns.

They say that for every railway sleeper on this track, there was a POW death on the construction process.

We rode the train for 2 hours, before disembarking and then getting a driver to take us to the section referred to as Hellfire Pass, 18 kms away. The Museum here is managed by the Australian Department of Veteran Affairs, Office of War Graves, and it very well done. After walking through the rooms of information, we walked the paths to get down to the cutting that the Aussies named after the vision of themselves in the lighting in the cutting as they were forced to work long into the night, starved and emaciated, resembling scenes from hell.

The cutting is 25 metres deep at it's highest point, and was cut with the most rudimentary tools. Without even considering the state of the men forced to complete such work, this feat is incredible.

This is also the place where Sir 'Weary' Dunlop's ashes were spread, as a plaque reminded me as we got down to the track level of the pass.

Such an important part of Australian and Aussie Digger history, in addition to the other Allied and Asian labourers lost in this piece of WWII. A very important place to visit, and learn about.




Getting back to Kanchanaburi, Dave and I had our driver drop us back at the Bridge, and we had a very late lunch at one of the floating restaurants so we could take in the sunset colours highlighting the view. We even caught sight of a train crossing over, scattering the hordes of tourists getting their movie photos.

Remembering The Fallen In Kanchanaburi

Dave and I travelled up to Kanchanaburi by bus from Bangkok, and after settling on a guesthouse on the river's edge, we set off to take in the significance of this Thai town.  I think it took me the whole visit to get to a point where I said the town's name properly!

Firstly, we went through the Death Railway Museum, which gave us a good overview of what went on here and on the construction of the railway line all the way across the border to Burma. Part of the Japanese World War II campaign to open up a way of getting supplies through, 60,000 Allied Prisoners of War and 180,000 Asian labourers were enslaved to build the line under the most hideous of conditions.

Across the road is the Kanchanaburi War Cemetery, where 2,815 Australian POWs who lost their lives during the construction have been laid to rest. 6,318 English POWs' graves occupy half of this cemetery, whilst the remaining plots are Dutch, New Zealander and Canadian, with many simply marked "An Allied Soldier". The US actually suffered the highest of the Allied POW losses, however their soldiers were repatriated for burial after the Japanese surrender.

Walking through the rows of Aussies, it was as moving as that experience at Anzac Cove, with so many lads around my age, killed in such unimaginable circumstances.

Many headstones held messages from family at home, and listed where the men were from. I spotted one woman buried here too, a volunteer within the medical unit. So many deaths were due to sickness, starvation, and also the brutality during the "Speedo" phase of construction, when the Japanese started to panic about their timelines for the completion of the railway, and things became more brutal.

So senseless. The world never seems to learn about the pointlessness of war.

The Australian War Memorial

Friday night in Canberra I finally got to visit the Australian War Memorial, a place I have been very keen to see for many years.  Our Welcome function was held here for the Human Brochure weekend, and we got a glimpse into this iconic and very moving site to honour those who have served and been lost in war for Australia.

We arrived as the sun was out, and the moon featured above the sandstone building.  From the front steps, we could see the roads leading to Parliament House, and to the side a statue to remind us of the Samson and his Donkey story from Gallipoli.

Our groups gathered and took in the building, before being invited inside.  We were able to explore the commemorative courtyard, take in the mass of names and poppies along the Roll of Honour, and also experience the Hall of Memory.

Such a beautiful place, with the reflecting pool taking in the balconies above.  Walking along the Wall of Honour, the sheer number of names was incomprehensible, and was a solemn mark of remembrance for all battles Australian soldiers have been been involved in and lost their lives.

At the end of the commemorative courtyard was the stunning Hall of Memory, with the Tomb of the Unknown Australian Solider, representing all who have given their lives for our nation.

The Hall features stained glass windows, and mosaic pieces, each with significant wartime significance to the our servicemen and women.

Our evening featured welcomes from the Memorial, and the Australian Capital Tourism who had brought us all here to see what Canberra has to offer visitors.

We were then invited to walk through the Orientation Gallery, out into the Aircraft Hall.  It was clear there was so much to access on a normal visit to the Memorial, and this wander was a taste of the rich volume of wartime history collected here in the one place.

The Aircraft Hall featured many of the planes used in the World War I conflict, which was just mind-boggling to see, given the standards of plane travel today.

Here, we were treated to a film produced by Peter Jackson, and then offered talks of the various features of this area of the Memorial.

Seeing just a portion of the Memorial like this just affirmed my long held desire to be here for an ANZAC Day Dawn Service.

It has also made me realise that I will need to allow plenty of time to take it all in properly, because there is so much to take in, and so many sections to visit to get the full wartime history on display.

This post is part of the #humanbrochure weekend to showcase Canberra as a destination, which I attended as a Plus One, with Carly Findlay.  We were part of the Food and Wine Stream, in the Australian Capital Territory Tourism initiative. 

ANZAC Dawn Service in Dominica

This morning a group of us gathered around the War Memorial here in Roseau, Dominica, to pay our respects to our ANZAC heroes, at dawn.

Nothing official, just a large section of our Waving The Flag group, and the Australian cricket team management members, up before the sun to be part of it. Luke read out a piece about the meaning of the ANZACs, and then also read the names of the fallen soldiers who served alongside the Aussie and New Zealanders from the Commonwealth of Dominica. Peter read a prayer. Justin Langer read the Ode to Remembrance. A Dominican Army officer played the Last Post, after a minutes silence.

Just a simple service, as the light arrived for the day, with a gathering of proud Aussies marking the sacrifice of our serving men and women. So proud to be there for this special experience, to be part of it. And so very proud to be part of the Waving The Flag group this morning, with Luke putting together this lovely and important service for us all.

Lest we forget.

The Australian Ex-Prisoners of War Memorial

The Ballarat Botanical Gardens is the home of The Australian Ex-Prisoners of War Memorial, which catches my eye every time I walk around Lake Wendouree.

The memorial is 170 meters long, and the wall has almost 35,000 names listed, commemorating those Australian servicemen and women who have been a Prisoner of War in conflicts from the Boer War to the World Wars, to the Korean War. These names were complied by the Ballarat RSL and volunteers in the region, growing out of a group of survivors who met on a regular basis wanting to mark the hardship and sacrifice their fallen brothers and sisters made in conflicts around the world.


In place here since 2004, according to the Ballarat Accommodation and Tourism Directory site:

The POW monuments' design uses the basic idea of a journey through and an experience of time and place. The start of the pathway is long and straight heading off into the shape of railway sleepers, a reference to the Burma Railway. Running parallel to the pathway is a polished black granite wall, 130m long etched with the names of all the Australian POW's. Standing in a reflective pool are huge basalt obelisks up to 4.5m high will the names of the POW camps. The columns are out of reach and across the water symbolizing that all the POW camps were away from Australian shores. Further on there is another wall with the words Lest we Forget engraved, allowing for an area of contemplation and reflection after the "journey".

The mere volume of names, spanning the length of the Memorial, is overwhelming. It also includes a section on the wall for the addition of further names, as details are located, researched and confirmed.

Walking along the Memorial without many people around, the design feels meaningful, and so I had to look it up! The reverence with the placement, layout and design is impressive, to incorporate so much significance, and has made this section of the Gardens an important memorial for all of Australia.

Ballarat Dawn Service

This morning I joined the convoy of cars heading into the centre of Ballarat, for the ANZAC Dawn Service. In the dark, people from all different directions converged into the centre grass strip of Sturt Street, between St Andrews and St Patricks Churches, to gather for the service. Around 2000 people gathered in the chilly, crisp morning around the cenotaph, to pay tribute to the fallen, the returned, and the serving Australian and New Zealand military personnel.

The gathering of a full range of age groups was standing around the crosses laid our in rememberance for those lost from the local area. An address to open, this years service included a history of the Dawn Service, with the first service, 88 years ago in Albany remembered, which commemorated the place of the final glimpse of Australian land the soldiers heading off to Egypt, and ultimately Gallipoli, saw.

The Last Post and a minutes silence ended the short service, as light started to break.

This year has probably meant more to me, along side the one 6 years ago at Anzac Cove, because about a third of my caseload at work at the moment are returned soldiers, who I work with on their return to function after physical and psychological injuries, and some experiencing unimaginable atrocities, in the various ADF efforts around the world at the moment.

Lest We Forget.

ANZAC Dawn Service and the TranzScenic

Whilst it was still very early, cold and dark on Saturday, Mum and I left the comfort of our hotel room, laden with our luggage, and got a taxi to the Cenotaph in Wellington, with the gathering crowd.

Standing in the dark, cold centre of town, we watched as the Returned Soliders, serving members, and their families, gathered to form the parade to the Cenotaph to begin the ANZAC Dawn Service. With a rifel fire into the air the service began, with prayer, welcome, a minute silence, and the ever haunting Last Post.

Meaning more and more to me, I aimed to be over here this year, after Melbourne two years ago, and Gallipoli 4 years ago. Jessie and Heath were at the Gallipoli service this year, as Mum and I were in Wellington.





As the Dawn light started to spill over the waterfront, Mum and I took our bags the two blocks to the Railway Station, and checked in to our TranzScenic Overlander journey up the North Island. Leaving the station at just after 7.30am, we settled into our comfy seats for our feast of spectacular scenary.

Through river gorges, past the national parks and volcanic plateau, and through the Raurimu Spiral. The lunch stop was at Ohakune, just after the sighting of Mount Ruapehu. Amazing trip, with the open air viewing deck, to the back carriage with a lounge for viewing from the glass windowed back of the train.

Arriving into Auckland, to the first proper miserable weather of our trip, we walked from the station, to our hotel, just at the foot of the iconic SkyTower.

Friday was our full day in Wellington, and we actually did what we had done the day before, but in reverse, and in daylight. We walked down Willis Street, stopping for brunch along the way, to find the Cable Car station. Mum and I rode to the top of the hill overseeing the town of Wellington.

Leaving Mum at the top, I wandered down into the Botanical Gardens, to find the Sundial, and the Peace Flame. Back down to sea level, we walked through the main street of town, before again walking along the Waterfront, and having Fish and Chips looking out over the habour.

Back to Te Papa for a proper walk through of the cultural musuem of New Zealand, we took in the art and history of the land. Learning much of the settlement of the land over the ditch, reading up on the Treaty Of Waitangi...makes me wonder why Australia is so far behind in recognising our indigenous culture. This treaty was signed in 1840! The Australian government's true acknowledgement has just happened in the last few years! Disgraceful!

Milford Sound

Early yesterday morning, Mum and I got up whilst it was still dark, to be picked up by coach at our hotel, for our trip to Milford Sound. 5 hours on the bus down over and across to the Fjordland of New Zealand, we had a very chatty bus driver all the way....but with spectacular scenery!

Our bus had a glass roof, allowing us to take in not just the forests and lakes, and mountain ranges around us, but also above us...which it was for a large portion of the trip.

Getting down to the Sound, and boarding our cruise out on the water, and a little lap out on the Tasman Sea, the landscape is breathtaking. Glaciers above, waterfalls meeting us, and snow-capped fjords towering all around us. Standing out on the deck in the sun and chilly, fresh air was amazing.


A very long day, with the 5 hour trip back, we had a quick dinner when we returned to Queenstown, before calling it a day.

This morning I got up and ventured up the Queenstown Gondola, for views of the town, lake and surrounding mountain ranges. Up there before the crowds, I took in the cloud covered Remarkables, across Lake Wakatipu to Cecil and Walter Peaks, and then finally the clouds parted to allow me to see Coronet Peek, where I had launched from to Hang Glide.

After another loop of town in the car, Mum and I dropped off the car and checked in for our flight up here to Wellington. On a little propeller plane, we managed to select the left side of the plane to allow us to view to top of Mt Cook, from above the cloud cover. We got to take in the vast mountain ranges all the way up the South Island, before seeing the Cook Strait pass under us, for us to arrive on the North Island.

Checking into our hotel, we walked over to the National War Memorial, for a little recci for the Dawn Service...and lucky we did! The service on Saturday is actually elsewhere, and in a much better place for our planned impossible Service and then train combo! Taking in the Carillon, and the Tomb of the Unknown Warrior, the inside of this building is gorgeous, being the Hall of Memories.

We walked down further to Te Papa, after seeing that the Monet and The Impressionists exhibit is currently on display. I joined the queue, and then wandered around the rooms of the show, displaying works by Monet from early days, to his Haystacks and Waterlilies.

Back out into the fading light over the harbour, we walked along the waterfront, and then through town, before a quick dinner. I have just walked up through Cuba Mall to find loads of Cuba related cafes and restaurants...cute!

Anzac Dawn Service

Very early morning on Wednesday, Kelly, Jessie and I got up before the sun, and made our way to the Anzac Dawn Service at the Shrine of Remembrance.

Rugged up against the early morning cold, we drove over to the Lygon Street tram line, and joined the hoards of people crammed onto the first tram of the day. We were surprised, as everyone seems to be each year Anzac Day is marked, by the number of people, and especially the number of people our age (range, as Kelly points out!!) going along to the service, giving up their sleep on a public holiday, and the general camaraderie feeling about the journey in.

Our tram got us to the Shrine end of St Kilda Road just as the preliminary stuff was wrapping up over the load speaker, and just in time for the start of the service. This year there were passages read from high school students, along with the haunting and meaningful Last Post, and the beautiful words said at every service...

They shall not grow old
as we that are left grow old.
Age shall not weary them
nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun
and in the evening
we will remember them

I cannot believe it has been two years now since we were at the 90th anniversary service at Gallipoli. The Melbourne service was quite reminiscent of that time two years ago, with the temperature and the range of people within the crowd. The solemn reverence of the service was the same. I think this is something I will aim to do at least every couple of years. Such an important and patriotic part of being an Australian.

After a yummy and much needed warm breakfast at The Corner Store, we headed home for a nap, before joining Melissa and Clinton, Dianna, and Watty for a BBQ in the backyard with the footy on the tv. Such a true blue Aussie day!

Remembering the ANZACs

Early yesterday morning, along with 17,000 other people, I experienced the Dawn Service on the beach front of Gallipoli. Commemorating the landing of Australian and New Zealand soldiers on the beach, 90 years ago. A truely amazing, important, and unforgetable experience.

We left Istanbul early in the morning on Sunday for the long bus trip down to Gallipoli coast. Lunch in Gallipoli town itself, on the ocean, before heading down to the ANZAC sites.

After the first bus jam of the experience, we drove down to the site of the service to see where we will be, the set up, and view the Sphinx that confronted the soldiers upon their arrival that morning, 90 years ago. There were many people staking their place on the grass already for the night.

The tour then headed down along to a couple of the cemerteries along the coast, including Anzac Cove. Walking along the headstone of the soldiers, most so young, younger than me, was quite emotional. The reality of what ANZAC Day really means sunk in completely. The young lives gunned down before they even got their lives started, bravery one can only imagine, all for the fight I will never understand. I have heard and read about WWI over and over, and don't think I will ever understand why, and who was fighting with and against who, and what it was all for. And the loss of lives so young, the end of such promise - soaking that in was really full on.

Chatting amongst some of the group, especially after Anzac Cove, we decided we wanted to stay now, at the Service site and get our spot. The atomsphere around lead up to decide to have a bit of a tour revolt, and ditch going to the bar - which we can and do anywhere anytime - and 8 of us grabbed our stuff there and then and headed down to the grass for the Service. Much to the disgust of the rest of the bus, and the shock of our un-understanding tour guide.

Staking our place right at the front of the crowd, right at the walkway up to the stage area, we settled in for the night. The electricity around, with Aussies and Kiwis that had all travelled over in various ways, was awesome. The time actually didn't seem to be as long as it was. People playing cards, complaining of the cold, a group of lads near us doing the usual funny Aussie lads routine all night, chats with our groups. Was amazing.

Being moved from laying down, to sitting, to squishing up close, to let all the people into the area, the night was over soon enough, and the Prelude to the Dawn Service that we had actually seen during the night, began. The music, especially the digeridoo piece, the poetry, a diggers letter home before the battle and his death, and then the impressive light show, which actually lit up the cliff and sphinx to represent the coming light, was a prefect build up.

The officials had arrived, including a walkby our walkway by Little Johnnie, rock star style. I was close enough to have shaken his hand, and had my chance - but don't think I could have done it and kept my mouth shut - and I understand that there is a time and place. His Royal Highness The Prince of Wales must have snuck past, cos I didn't see him walk by till they were all leaving after the Service. But I did see Angelo.

The Service was beautiful, and so significant. Howard acknowledged the cutting down of young lives, and thus ending a potential life and his life strain, which I had been thinking about as I walked along the headstones earlier. Prayer, the anthems, and the moving poem penned by Turkish Anaturk. Was so moving and unforgetable. A bit too hard to put down in words, really.

Words of Ataturk
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In the sun after the Service, we gathered all our things and headed off on the long walk to Lone Pine for the Australian Service. After a massive jam on the climb up (turned out every bugger was stopping for the food stalls set up on the walkway up, reducing the flow up to a trickle), we reached the top to discover the Lone Pine area full. Buggered from our long night out under the star, we sat outside the service in the sun, instead of fighting the crowd for standing room only.

The Dawn Service was what it was all about for me, and I am so blown away that I got to have this experience this year, being the 90th anniversary. (more photos)

The 'bul

After the excitement of finishing work, and heading back to London, I packed up my little backpacker backpack again, and went out to Heathrow on Thursday for my flight to Turkey!

The abundance of Aussies on the flight, especially with the silent solidarity walking with each other during the transfer from flight to flight in Rome, was apparent. The excitement, the reverence, the anticipation. It seemed that there really will be every man and his dog in Turkey for the ANZAC services.

I arrived in Istanbul at around 1.30am - every flight was running late - and was met at the airport by the tour...um...boys. They didn't know what they were doing and none of us knew what was happening. Was very amusing. Although did get old by 2.30am! Arrived at our room at 3am, to the sleeping Nat and Glenys, who had arrived much earlier in the day.

Joined by Cam at breakfast, we headed off to navigate through the streets of Istanbul for the day. Being signed up on a tour has made me amazingly lazy, I have done minimal preparation for this half of the trip, and so guidebook in hand, we found the tram, and were off.

We headed into town, and then to Eminonu and found a ferry across to the Asian side of Istanbul. For a whole 1 lira!! I think Turkey is a great place for me to start my Europe travels, with the merge of Asia and Europe right here. We wondered the little streets in Haram in Asia Minor, and not discovering all that much, we found another ferry back.

Jumping off the ferry, with the intention of walking across the bridge to see the third side of Istanbul, we get sidetracked by a cute and comfy pace for lunch, quite a few beers, and an apple flavoured water pipe.

Our 5 day tour for Gallipoli actually started this morning, with a full day of city sights. We visited the Hippodrome and the beautiful Blue Mosque. Then wondered through the Topkapi Palace and the stunning Hagia Sophia Museum. The amazing mosaics in the Sophia were incredible. (more photos)

The Blue Mosque
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Mosaic in Hagia Sophia
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Missing a sleeping bag for the night on Anzac Cove, and discovering that I wasn't the only one, we talked to our guide, Erol, who thought he could sort us out. During a break he lead us up many steep streets, until we arrived at a blank building with a black door. A phone call later had the door opened, and we were taken upstairs to a room full of various army supplies! I am sure it was the Turkish Mafia. Goods were displayed, price was agreed, and now I am the owner of a lovely green army camoflaged sleeping bag!! Will be needed!!

This evening we have had a cruise of the Bosphorous river, and enjoyed a yummy and authentic donor kabab for dinner. Ready to sleep off the last couple of days (and today's hangover) ready for our massive day tomorrow...