ANZAC Day Dawn Service Speech at Isurava
25 April 2007, Isurava, PNG
Deputy High Commissioner to PNG, Ann Harrap
Today we are commemorating the 92nd anniversary of the Gallipoli Campaign. We have just heard from the reading of the Prologue of the Bravery of a Young Man – Bruce Kingsbury – here at Isurava during the Second World War.
But this morning as we remember the ANZAC Campaign that helped shape Australia as a nation, I would like to tell the story of an Australian soldier from the First World War – that war to end all wars. His name was PTE James (Jim) Charles Martin.
When news of the first ANZAC landings was spread across the Australian papers the recruiting depots were swamped with eager men ready to stand side by side with those already in action.
In country Victoria, a father arrived home and sadly announced to his family that he had attempted to enlist in the A.I.F only to be turned down as medically unfit. As he sat with his head in his hands he felt his son’s hand on his shoulder and heard the words: “Never mind Dad, I’ll go.”
His mother pleaded with Jim that he was too young. Jim said that if they did not let him go he would join under another name.
Armed with a letter of consent from his parents young Jim Martin was the fittest man seen by the recruiting officer on the day he enlisted in early April, 1915.
Jim Martin was allocated to the first reinforcement of the newly formed 21 Battalion who went into extensive training at Broadmeadows and Seymour Camps in Victoria.
On embarkation day, 27 June, 1915, they went by train to the docks at Port Melbourne and boarded the troop ship, Berrima.
As the Berrima glided silently down the still waters of Port Philip Bay, Jim Martin had time to reflect on his family glancing occasionally at the streamer in his hand, the one he had caught from his mother as the ship pulled away from the quay.
For many of the soldiers on board the fading lights of Melbourne were to be their last sight of Australia.
The reinforcements landed in Egypt in late August and were immediately absorbed by the Battalion.
In the shadows of the pyramids, the young soldier honed his fighting skills as 21 BN’s day of reckoning approached.
On August 29, the battalion entrained for Alexandria. Awaiting them there was their transport – a ship named Southland.
The men of 21 BN were joined by their mates from other divisions – in all about 1600 men.
At 9.50 am on 2 September, as the troops were mustering for the 10 am parade, a torpedo struck just forward of the ship’s bridge, tearing a hole 10 metres by 4 metres in the side of the Southland.
As there were insufficient lifeboats, many, including Jim Martin, were forced to jump overboard. He was to spend the next four hours in the choppy sea.
On their pickup by the attending boats, young Jim Martin was dragged on deck but shunned attention with the cry of, “I’m all right.” Of those on board, casualties were relatively light – 33 in total.
So as not to miss his landing at ANZAC Cove, Jim Martin never reported sick but his exposure to the dunking in the sea was beginning to take its toll.
Just before midnight on 8 September, 1915, 21 BN set foot on the stony beach known as ANZAC Cove.
The next day the battalion occupied the line from Courtney’s Post to Wire Gully, a distance of around 400 metres, and young Jim Martin settled into life in the trenches.
In a letter home on 4 October, Jim wrote, “Don’t worry about me, I am doing OK over here.”
These were brave words, as the effects of the Southland incident, poor food and the stress of Gallipoli were running rife through young Jim’s body.
On 25 October, Jim Martin reported sick and was evacuated to the hospital ship, Glenart Castle, lying off Gallipoli, where he arrived about 5pm.
He settled down to get some sleep but died suddenly of heart failure at 6.40 pm. The next day, 26 October, 1915, the body of PTE James Charles Martin slid from the platform beneath his country’s flag as his body was buried at sea.
In a letter to Jim’s mother, a member of his platoon wrote, “I am writing to you to express our great sorrow at your late bereavement. Jim was in the firing line with us and stuck to his post till the last. Like the brave lad that he was, he made the greatest and noblest of sacrifices for his country.”
“Sergeant Coates speaks very highly of him and says he never had a man in his platoon who paid more attention to his duty.”
In February, 1916, Amelia Martin opened a box sent by General Headquarters. It contained her son’s personal effects – his ID disc, Bible, notebook, letters, belt and the torn and battered streamer she threw to him on his departure.
So why was Jim Martin so special and why does his story deserve to be told? The fact is, Jim Martin was only 14 years of age when he died. He was our youngest ANZAC. We remember Jim Martin, who by his example showed not only great bravery, but also the acceptance of those principles of life we in today’s society should be striving to emulate.
1. Love of family.
2. Pride of family and nation.
3. Understanding of responsibilities.
Young Jim died being loved by his family and highly respected by those with whom he served.
This story was first passed on by Keith Payne VC at a Dawn Service in Australia some years ago. I wanted to share it with you today as a poignant reminder of the sacrifice made by all nations involved in the First World War, and as a fitting tribute to the spirit of ANZAC – a spirit that is not just applied during times of war nor is it the sole ownership of Aussies and Kiwis. It is a spirit embodied in our efforts to overcome adversity, to work through problems, to test ourselves – something that many of you in walking this difficult Kokoda Track are doing – and to come out the other side sharper, stronger and more courageous.
In closing I would like to say how proud I am to be an Australian among all of you here today who have shown your commitment to remember and to say thank you. I hope you will join with me in committing ourselves to carry on the ANZAC name, their ideals and in some cases to fulfil the dreams and aspirations that they, through their ultimate sacrifice, were never able to fulfil.
Lest we forget.
END