Outsiders wonder why Gallipoli is of so much significance to Australians. This offensive was a tragic failure and ignominious evacuation and not a victory. On January 1, 1901, six colonies became a Federated Commonwealth of Australia, a constitutional monarchy, but the fledgling nation lacked esprit. Gallipoli changed all that. With the troops fighting as a single country, a nation was born.

The returning tattered, maimed and injured veterans – previously volunteer farmers, butchers, pastoralists, shopkeepers, stockmen – were hailed as national heroes and their history remains etched in Australian national psyche much as the bravery of the Great Siege remains among the Maltese. Retired Servicemen’s Leagues (RSLs), legions, widows and orphans clubs and war memorials sprang up across the country.

My memories of the services in Gallipoli will be with me till the end of my days

Anzac 100 is a day of reflection, memory and reminiscence when wreaths are laid and bugles blown.

Few would be aware of the logistical nightmare that is the 100th commemorative service. The programme for many hundreds of visitors runs for 22 hours – military bands, choirs, speeches, readings, soliloquies, snippets of film and sound recordings, essay recitations, messages, hymns, reminiscences, dirges, wreath laying, anthems, prayers for peace, ode of remembrance, catafalque military exercise, Last Post, Reveille and Maori Karanga Call to Gathering. The advance planning, transportation and security alone must equal that of the Anzac landings in 1915!

The dawn of Anzac Day 2012 found me at Anzac Cove commemorative site and at Lone Pine and (NZ) Chunuk Bair as an official guest of the Australian government in the company of then Prime Minister Julia Gillard and a slew of other dignitaries from the military, religious orders, federal and state parliaments and the diplomatic corps.

From left, Joseph Dingli (the author’s father-in-law), Mabel Strickland and A.H. Sapienza laying a wreath at the War Memorial in Floriana on Anzac Day.From left, Joseph Dingli (the author’s father-in-law), Mabel Strickland and A.H. Sapienza laying a wreath at the War Memorial in Floriana on Anzac Day.

My memories of the services in Gallipoli will be with me till the end of my days. The ceremonies of remembrance were unique and profoundly spiritual. The Last Post and two-minute silence showed heartfelt and profound respect and were uncannily beautiful. You could hear a pin drop.

In truth, I had a few fair reasons to be in Gallipoli. My story runs across three generations and relates to my Maltese family’s connection with Anzac. As a 14-year-old St Aloysius schoolboy, I had passed down the Dardanelles channel on the school ship Devonia. On impulse, I woke up before dawn to survey that beautiful but ill-fated coast on a misty, cold, overcast, bleak day as I imagined what it would have been like for my grandfather who had served here in the last Gentleman’s War and who, unlike many of his comrades, had lived to tell his tale.

The author’s grandfather, Captain Joseph Edward Agius, of the King’s Own Malta Regiment of Militia.The author’s grandfather, Captain Joseph Edward Agius, of the King’s Own Malta Regiment of Militia.

My grandfather, Capt. Joseph Edward Agius, commissioned in the King’s Own Malta Regiment of Militia (KOMRM), served in the Dardanelles not with the Australian and New Zealand Army but with the British Expeditionary Force in Turkey, Egypt and Italy. As a lieutenant, he was mentioned in despatches by General F.R. Earl of Cavan in 1918 and lauded for “…gallantry and distinguished services in the field” with “…high appreciation from his Majesty the King”. In Italy, in 1918, he was Officer Commanding, Labour Corps, Taranto.

Five Maltese officers of the KOMRM volunteered to serve in the Dardanelles campaign in 1915 – Capt. F.M. Stivala (previously of the Mounted Infantry of the Transvaal) and Lts P.A. Micallef Enyaud, A.G. Dandria, J.E. Agius and C.A. Muscat. Their farewell dinner beforeproceeding to the front was at Fort Manoel. They were seconded to the Sherwood Foresters and the Royal Norfolks. My grandfather had cut short his medical and surgical studies at the Royal University of Malta.

After the Great War, Capt. Agius was appointed Adjutant of the Malta Police (1931), Superintendent of Police (1934) and Director of Prisons (1939). He died unexpectedly, with his boots on, just outside HM Prisons at Paola. My mother always laughed at her childhood postal address – HM Prisons, Cottonera.

There is another family connection with Anzac. My father-in-law, Joseph Dingli (1904-1971) went to Australia on the Ormonde in the latter half of the 1920s. In New South Wales, my home state, he taught English and French at Camden Grammar School in Narellan. He returned to Malta in the 1930s and, for well over 15 years, was honorary secretary of the Anzac Day Committee.

Annually he laid a wreath at the War Memorial – usually with Mabel Strickland and A.H. Sapienza. To him it was always an event of great pride and honour.

Stephen Gatt, previously of Sliema and now of Kensington, New South Wales, Australia, is a freelance correspondent.

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