Oberon RSL Sub-Branch
Neville Stapleton
Ph: (02) 6336 1971
Fax: (02) 6336 1971
Mob: (0438) 615 653
stapo2@bigpond.com
Dear Sir,
with reference to an episode on channel nine’s, A Current Affair, on the eve of Anzac Day, 2008, regarding the wanton destruction of trees planted along Memorial Avenue, O’Connell, New South Wales, to remember the fallen diggers from O’Connell in World War 1.
http://aca.ninemsn.com.au/article.aspx?id=452486
I must register my abhorrent disgust for those in council, that wish to destroy this living monument to the ones that have made the greatest sacrifice for the Australian people.
To me, this shows complete and utter contempt for those that have made the ultimate sacrifice.
The Oberon Council must hang its head in shame if it does indeed go ahead with its plan to remove these magnificent remembrance trees.
To add insult to injury, I believe that several councillors have travelled to Gallipoli to remember the fallen, yet they have the gall to remove a beautiful memorial to those that they are in Gallipoli to remember.
Rest assured, I shall be sending this letter to many people, not only in Australia, but also throughout the world via email, seeking their condemnation for this councils actions.
OBERON COUNCIL, I FIND YOUR ACTIONS DESPICABLE AND UNDENIABLY UN-AUSTRALIAN.
O'CONNELL REMEMBRANCE DAY SERVICE
Page: 4431
Mr GERARD MARTIN (Bathurst) [5.30 p.m.]: The village of O'Connell is situated midway between Bathurst and Oberon. Like many country communities, the people of O'Connell made a significant contribution to the Australian war effort in World War I. Thirty-six residents of O'Connell enlisted and 10 made the supreme sacrifice. Today I relate to the House the story of Edgar Gornall, a signaller from the area who has the distinction of being the last Australian out of Gallipoli.
I became aware of this fascinating story when I attended a Remembrance Day ceremony in 2001. The service was conducted in an open paddock that is adjacent to an avenue of desert ash trees that were planted by the O'Connell community in 1926 as a memorial to the Australian efforts in World War I. The program produced for the Remembrance Day service by the O'Connell Village preservation group included a copy of a letter that Edgar Gornall sent to the Western Times newspaper in Bathurst. It was published on 26 February 1916, and it makes fascinating reading:
As the time of the evacuation drew nigh, the garrison was nightly reduced and at 3 a.m. on December 20th, Captain moved his party out, leaving two officers and twenty-one men, including myself, in the Australian firing trenches which cover a front of about 6 miles The duty of most of his remaining men was to keep up a fairly rapid rifle fire almost equal to that of the whole battalion, and to watch for any unusual movement on the part of the Turks. Holding the position nearest to the point of embarkation and the beach, our battalion was to be the last to leave the trenches, and by this time, 3 a.m., all the other Australian troops had left their trenches, having left old rifles and bombs, still being fired by the time fuses.
The firing of these gave the Turks the impression that we still occupied the trenches, and my mate and I passed knowing winks as we heard the noises of the distant bombs, and the firing of the Turkish snipers at empty loop holes. We smiled as the Turks continued to fire into the empty trenches on our either hand, from Chatham's Post to Popes and from Rhododendron to Suvla.
At five minutes past three, I was sitting in the little telephone station hidden away in the almost deserted firing trenches, when the receiver strapped over my ear buzzed out certain letters in Morse, and the order came through for the twenty three remaining men to vacate the trenches, proceed to the beach and embark.
The officer in charge quickly gathered up the last men from the different posts and wired through "O.K." The long fuses attached to the rifles and bombs were then lighted, and the officer hurried off with the last party, having given my mate and self orders to cut wires, grab our phones, and run for it. It was now 3.20 a.m., and we were the only men on the post. It would have been "God help us" if the Turks had "jerried to our game" and hopped over our parapets. Happily, and much to everyone's surprise, they didn't, but continued to throw bombs into our deserted trenches and snipe at the vacant loop holes.
As the last party was by this time out of the trenches and on its way back to the beach, we lost no time in carrying out the first two orders, but our packs were too heavy for us to run, and so we fixed bayonets, loaded up, and retreated at a walk. My mate, who was a burly farmer, tried to run but sprained his ankle. Then we found that the last party had forgotten us, and had barricaded up the exit trench with barbed wire and entanglements.
We were left alone in the trenches, weighted down with heavy packs and official gear, one of us crippled, neither able to scale the barrier, and with thousands of suspicious Turks less than a hundred yards away. These very trenches were to be blown sky high in a minute or two. Was there no escape for us? Imagine our dilemma.
Remembering that real soldiers don't do their blocks, we hunted around and found another gap, which thank God, was open. Hardly had we entered it when up went two of our big mines that were laid under our trenches and also those of the Turks. The ground jumped from under us. There was a roar like a broadside, a towering flame that lit up the whole landscape, and fragments of timber and earthworks fell all about us. Then all was silence, and we still floundered on.
We were just on the outskirts of the trenches when the third mine blew. The Turks soon regained their breath however, and demonstrated. The reports of our rifles and bombs were now drowned in the inferno of noise. Every Turk must have fired round after round of his rifle as fast as he could, and the din was awful. The air was thick with bullets which fell like rain into the sea beyond.
The rattling bursts of the enemy machine guns were almost incessant. We overtook the last party as they were stepping on the last remaining motor barge, and here it occurred to us that the last man to leave the Australian firing trenches was a Bathurstian. He was myself.
That fascinating story by Edgar Gornall demonstrates that the most wonderful recollections of Gallipoli do not always include that the most famous part of Gallipoli, and the only part that was a great success for Australia from a militaristic point of view, was the successful evacuation. Every Australian trooper who was part of the evacuation escaped uninjured.
I implore everyone that sees this letter in the various forums throughout the world where I post it, & those that I email, to register their disgust with the OBERON COUNCIL for their contempt of those that have made the ultimate sacrifice in defence of freedom for their country and the free world.
Although this is only my opinion, I do seek others to join me and remember our fallen.
K.O. (Shorty) Glanville
Cairns F.N.Q. Australia
info@get.shorty.com.au
I've seen the light, and changed my wicked ways.
www.get.shorty.com.au
