Anzac Day

Merry Anzac Day!

Anzac Day, April 25, is one of Australia's most important national holidays—seriously, on equal footing with Christmas Day. We don’t have it in El Hemisferio Norte,¹ so I’m here to school you. You’ll thank me later.

Anzac Day, or as the locals call it, Churchill’s Beach Party,² marks the anniversary of the first significant military action fought by Australian and New Zealand forces in World War I. And it’s the one day each year the Aussies³ and Kiwis put down their Vegemite sandwiches, take a break from the wallaby races, and gather to tip their hats—and no small number of beers—to all the brave men and women who have served and died in wars, conflicts, and “peacekeeping missions” around the world.

At Sydney's Anzac Memorial

It all started back in 1915 when the Anzacs (the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps) landed on the shores of Gallipoli, ready to kick Ottoman butt. But instead of a triumphant rout, they got a front-row seat to the world's worst clam bake. But the Ottomans, led by Mustafa Kemal,⁴ a.k.a., Atatürk, had other plans, which mainly included walloping some southern hemispherean butts.

Landing at Anzac Cove, April 25, 1915 (Australian War Memorial)

It wasn’t supposed to work that way. The Anzacs had been promised it'd be a walk in the park, and a short one, at that. No, it stretched out over eight long months of brutal combat, extreme weather, and primitive⁵ living conditions. Early on, during the summer months, as bad as the Turkish rain of bullets was, it was nothing compared to the UV radiation. I’m not even kidding. The Anzacs slathered themselves in SPF 1000, but that didn't stop the sunburns and heat stroke.

Day by day the sun grew hotter and hotter until it burned down scorchingly hot. There was scarcely any shade. The bivvies themselves were swelteringly hot. The ground was almost red hot. There was little stirring of air beneath the great cliffs. Men soon commenced to shed their clothing. Slacks were ripped off at the knees and the vogue of shorts commenced. Coats were flung off and then shirts. The ‘Tommy hats’ in which the New Zealanders had landed were soon thrown away and replaced by Australian felts, pith helmets or the New Zealand issue of unfortunate members of the reinforcement drafts…Within six weeks of landing the fashionable costume had become boots, shorts, identity disk, hat and when circumstances permitted a cheerful smile. The whole was topped off by a most glorious coat of sunburn.

—Ormond Burton, The Silent Division, 1935

“Why were they even there?” you might ask, “It’s so dang far away from the South Pacific.”

Australia had only just become a country 14 years earlier with Federation when the six colonies united. Champagne all around! But it was still pretty tight with Britain, which they considered the Mother Country.⁶ But little did they know, the Crown had a whole different perspective. WWI kicked off before the ink on the Australian Constitution was barely dry. Sitting in their foggy castles and sipping tea, the British thought, "Now, where can we find an endless batch of scrappy, happy hooligans to send off to the Western Front?” You guessed it, Australia! So our fresh-faced diggers board ships, waving goodbye to Mum, and sail off into the maw of war.

At Melbourne's Shrine of Remembrance

Ultimately, 416,809 Australians enlisted for the war, of which more than 60,000 died, and 156,000 were wounded, gassed, or taken prisoner. That is not insignificant—especially for a country of roughly 5 million people.

Turns out the Crown made a habit of using Australians as cannon fodder. After recovering from WWI—and a global depression—the Mother Country declared war on Nazi Germany. Like eager puppies trying to prove their worth to Britain, Australians grabbed their slouch hats and boomerangs and hoiked off to Europe and North Africa to “give Hitler a fair go!” (well, and Mussolini). Things got even dicier when Japan got involved in 1941—and then had the balls to bomb Darwin⁷ and send a covert force into Sydney Harbour in 1942.

Australia had to divert its attention to protecting its actual homeland instead of the King's. The King, by the way, was no help in that endeavor. But we were. The U.S. sent thousands of troops to Australia beginning in early 1942. By 1943, a quarter of a million American soldiers were stationed in Melbourne, Sydney, and Brisbane.

Darwin Raid 1942 and Sinking of the SS Zealandia (Australian War Memorial)

At the end of the war, 27,000 Australians were killed, and 23,000 were wounded in action. Those are heavy losses for a nation of just 4.9 million,⁸ and feelings for the Mother Country had taken a real turn.⁹

Anzac Day honors the sacrifices, much like our Memorial Day. And like our Memorial Day, it has kind of wandered from its intended purpose. Originally, it was all solemn ceremonies and bugle-playing. Then, it was all about recruitment. Yep—Anzac commemorations everywhere were like the world's most intense job fairs. “Join the war effort, and you’ll get a free toaster!”

These days, it's evolved into a unique blend of tradition, camaraderie, and cheeky antics.¹⁰ At dawn, many people still huddle around war memorials that seem omnipresent in every city. The bugle sounds for the brave souls who charged Gallipoli's beaches and faced bullets with grit. It's a moment of reflection, a nod to history, and a chance to say, "Thanks, mate." There are also uniformed service members who parade through the cities later in the morning and fighter jets doing endless overflights.

At the Australian War Memorial in Canberra

After that, it’s a free-for-all. The entire country locks down tighter than a drum. Shops close, buses on snow routes,¹¹ and even the local pubs shut their doors.¹² Families get together for BBQs (barbies), hot dogs (snags), and beer (tinnies).¹³

They also spend a LOT of time playing “two-up.” This is an old gambling game, and they only play it on Anzac Day. A "spinner" puts two pennies on a paddle of sorts and tosses the pennies in the air. Everyone shouts, pushes, and bets on whether the pennies will land with both heads up, both tails up, or one heads and one tails. This last one is called "Ewan."¹⁴

You bet heads or tails and win if the coins match your chosen side. If they come up Ewan, everyone loses.¹⁵ They find this all riotously funny. I expect that's because there's a lot of drinking involved. And it's not a one-and-done kind of game. Oh no. It's a marathon. The game starts at dawn and rolls on till dusk. As does the drinking.

Two-Up set, courtesy of the all-knowing Wikipedia

And so it goes. Then, on the morning of April 26, the sun rises over an Australia reeling like a post-bender backpacker stumbling out of a hostel bunk bed. The air smells of eucalyptus, Vegemite, and jet fuel. Everyone treats their hangover with strong coffee and a couple of fried breakfasts.¹⁶

And there you have it—Anzac Day. The holiday when Australians honor their fallen heroes by doing the exact opposite of what they'd want—day-drinking, gambling, and reenacting war scenes with sausage rolls. So, my friends, raise a tinnie and toast the Anzacs. They faced bullets, barbed wire, and bad hair days, and damn it, they did it with style.