The weight of his pack bore heavily on his shoulders, the rough wool of his Battledress Jacket likely chafing against his skin. Laden with 60 rounds of ammunition, rations of bully beef, hard biscuits, tea, water, sandbags and tools, his burden was not just physical but symbolic of the weight of the impending battle.
His battalion was part of the second wave of troops to land on what was to become known as Anzac Cove. William Douglas White, also known as my Great Uncle Doug, the first in our family to bear the Rising Sun on his uniform. It was Sunday the 25th of April 1915.
I often wonder what Doug was thinking in the twilight as he climbed down the cargo nets alongside the Novian and into the long boats that would carry them ashore. Could he have heard Lieutenant Prisk, standing in the stern of his longboat coaching his men to row hard under the air bursting shells from the Turkish guns ashore?
How fearful was he as he watched the Turkish Artillery Batteries at Gaba Tepe rip into the Australian Battalions ahead of him as they tried to gain a foothold on the rocky slopes. How did he muster the courage to leap from that longboat and race ashore as the beach was pelted by machine gun fire from above? How distant was his small town of Railton in Northern Tasmania now, and the little foundry run by my Great Grandfather Phillip where Uncle Doug had been a Blacksmith.
Now he was in the place where the first ANZACs were to carve their name into history.
Amidst the chaos, Doug and his comrades faced the stark reality of war. The cries of the wounded, the acrid scent of blood and sweat mingling with the smoke of battle, all served as a grim reminder of the brutality they were thrust into.
Assigned to secure Plateau 400, adjacent to Baby 700, Doug and his unit fought valiantly, enduring fierce combat and unimaginable hardships.
The fighting was intense, with many casualties. Doug miraculously survived unharmed. His battalion suffered heavy losses on the first day of battle. Despite this, Doug continued to fight alongside what remained of 5 Battalion.
He participated in the battle of Krithia before being wounded by artillery shrapnel at Anzac Cove in May. After recovering in Malta, he re-joined his battalion for the Battle of Lone Pine in August 1915, surviving that as well. Despite facing various hardships such as dysentery, fever, and trench foot, he fought on through the Western Front battles, including the Somme, Pozières, Bullecourt, and others.
He fought alongside his brother Albury, a Machine Gun Platoon Commander, and remained a Private until his demobilisation in 1918.
Victory on the battlefield did not guarantee peace for Uncle Doug. Like so many veterans, the scars of war ran deep, haunting him long after the guns fell silent. Struggling with physical ailments and psychological trauma, he succumbed to the unseen wounds of war, dying a broken man in 1940 aged 45.
Of the four million Australians in 1914, 330,000 of them fought in the First World War. 60,000 of them didn't come home. That was 1.5% of the population, gone.
Anzac Day is not a celebration of war. It is a day we commemorate those who died, remember gallant acts and sacrifices, reflect on how we can better help those who survived and are still affected by war.
So today, honour the fallen and remember the men of ANZAC. I will remember a Blacksmith from Tasmania named Doug.
Lest We Forget.
