Today we honour the courage and sacrifice of those who served in wars, conflicts, and peace operations on Anzac Day.
Through the week I have written about 1) Rosemary to remember 2) the Australian-New Zealand bond of family 3) the handling of the Vietnam War and 4) Australia’s military nurses. Today, I share with you the address I presented at the Longford Anzac Day service.
Day 5: Anzac Day, 25 April – “Our way of life was bought and paid for with innocent shed blood.”
“Their bodies are buried in peace; but their name liveth for evermore”
– Ecclesiasticus 44:14
Michael Ferguson MP, Anzac Day address. Longford, 25 April 2025
Today we come together as Australians to honour the memory of our countrymen and women who served in wars, conflicts, peacekeeping and other operations.
We are totally unified.
We pause to quietly thank the one and a half million Australians who have served in those wars and operations; and especially, of course, those Australians who died because of their service.
To be exact, the Australian War Memorial Roll of Honour carries the names of one hundred and three thousand, forty four Australians. Isn’t that a large number? It’s too large in every way.
Every one of those individual Australians mattered in their own times, they were greatly missed, feared for. From the highest to the lowest rank – they still matter to us gathered here today. And that is a very good thing to be able to say.
We think of the wives, the husbands, the sweethearts, the mothers, the fathers, the siblings, the kids in every generation of service.
Whatever their home town, education, sex or level of society, they served and fought for the same country, the same cause and even a consistent worldview. They were and are Australians – united in a similar way that we are united here today.
No disagreements today, even 8 days before an election, there’s no room for it.
We’re all grounded by humility. It’s the kind of humility that can only come from truly knowing how lucky we really are. And secondly, that the only reason we have these freedoms, this luck, this wealth for toil is because our way of life was bought and paid for with innocent shed blood.
They fired our weapons, nursed our injured and carried our despatches. They rescued our prisoners to cheers and they buried our dead to the sounds of the last post. They wore our uniforms and those uniforms bore our beautiful flag.
We can wonder how many of them joined up, enthusiastic, with misguided wanderlust or dreams of glory – only, having seen too much, to now yearn for home, for family, for comfort, for safety, for love.
We could also wonder how many enlisted for the noble ideals of Empire, for God, King and Country – only to question whether true and enduring peace is even possible in a world where power is held by human hands.
And we don’t have to wonder because we know that others joined without any choice. Yet, those Australian conscripts served with equal honour in the hope that, like all the rest, having done their duty they would live long enough to go home.
What made these once ordinary Aussies so special is that they were prepared to pay the ultimate price in defence of nation, our border, our democratic way of life and freedoms of speech, worship, belief and expression.
Sadly, these are our fathers we never met, our aunt we can never know. These are the stories that were never properly finished. And why? Because of humanity’s dreadful and repeated habit to desire power over peace.
Regarding Anzac Day each April 25, our forebears created this tradition of pausing on this day to remember the service personnel of their own time. As it happens, this tradition turns out to be a huge gift to our generation – teaching us to be mindful of these servicemen and their sacrifice. To teach us the idea of trying harder to live lives worthy of what they did.
For without teaching us this remembrance, we might make the arrogant mistake of thinking that this country, its wealth, its freedoms and all that it offers is somehow the work of our own hands.
It isn’t. They gave it to us.
Through ceremonies like this, we fiercely protect this Australian legacy. We do it out of a strange mix of pride, sorrow, love, gratitude and regret.
I wish it had never been necessary. But we do it because the selfless decisions of all servicemen and women has created much more than mere legend, it created our national inheritance. It created a stronger nation. If we let it, that will flow on to make us a more generous people.
No one is here to glorify war, but with what was at stake, our forebears couldn’t lose those great conflicts to the enemy. Neither do we boast foolishly of our victories. We remember the fallen. We honour those returned. We pledge faithfulness with families who mourn and still feel the pain of loss of the dead, and the pain of trauma for the living.
No matter the challenges faced in conflict, we must never forget the unwavering support of the families behind our Australian Defence Force. These loved ones carry a quiet burden, holding strong at home and taking their own share of sacrifice. I acknowledge the families. Thank you.
It is equally vital that we bear responsibility in helping veterans and their families to adjust to life beyond service. While we’ve made great strides since the days of Gallipoli, the journey isn’t over—we must continue working to ensure every veteran finds purpose, opportunity, and the care they deserve. To the ex-service organisations and the volunteers who give so much of themselves to support our veterans—thank you for all that you do.
These men and women didn’t just serve the Australia they knew or the people they grew up with. They served their kids, the generations of Australians that followed and are yet to follow.
They served the noble causes of freedom and peace even when it must have seemed impossible.
They will never be forgotten.
For, as our promise is made and written, “Their bodies are buried in peace; but their name liveth for evermore”.
Lest we forget.
For the Fallen
Poem by Robert Laurence Binyon (1869-1943), published in The Times newspaper on 21 September 1914.
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not 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 morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England’s foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.
