Well, it's ANZAC Day, and judging by the number of ANZAC-related fanfictions, that's not something many people know about. It's been 100 years since Gallipoli today, and once I got home from the Dawn Service this morning, I was inspired to write this short fanfic about the first ANZAC Day in Atlantis.
"Doctor Weir?"
Elizabeth Weir looked up from her desk at the voice, and saw a small cluster of people gathered at her office door. It was less than a handful, and there seemed no relation between them: an Air Force officer, an Army officer, a linguist, an oceanologist, an astrophysicist, and a nurse. The linguist stepped forwards.
"We'd like to request, ah, a day off," she explained, handing over a printed document. Elizabeth frowned – they didn't have many resources to play around with, let alone using up paper. "In three weeks' time."
"All six of you?" Elizabeth blinked. She scanned through the document she'd been given, noting their names at the bottom. She knew there was something tying them all together, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Colonel David Wilson, Wing Commander Lachlan Murphy, Dr. Mehmet Sahin, Dr. Grace Anderson, Dr. William McDonald, and Susan Harris.
When did they want off, anyway? It was still a few weeks off, and they'd specified the day and the date. 25th of April. Why did that sound familiar?
"ANZAC Day?" she said finally, remembering that time she'd been in New Zealand in April. The country had come to a standstill.
"Yes, ma'am," one of the military officers nodded.
"Request granted," Elizabeth told them immediately. She'd have to sort it out with their heads, but she couldn't see any reason to deny them the holiday. "Will you be wanting anything else? Will you hold a service?"
"We were planning a Dawn Service," the linguist – Anderson – admitted. "Others are welcome to come, if they want."
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
It was early in the morning, and still dark, and Major Sheppard, quite frankly, didn't want to be awake. Unfortunately for him, Elizabeth had demanded he attend this... whatever it was. In his dress uniform. So far, they were out on a pier. He could see two flags at half-mast, but they both seemed to be the same flag, and something had been written on a plinth which he couldn't quite make out in the dark. A tight cluster of people, two in formal military uniform, stood just by the plinth, and several dozen others, also dressed formally, were milling around.
A low drone started, and then the pipes. Sheppard hadn't even seen the piper there, but he was, dressed in a reddish kilt and playing a slow and mournful tune – as all pipe tunes seemed to be.
"Oh, good, it's just started. I didn't miss it. I didn't miss it, did I?"
Sheppard glanced at the dark-haired and slightly puffed man in a suit beside him, his tie still untied. "Relax, McKay. You didn't miss it. Whatever it is."
"Ha, ha, funny," McKay told him sourly, standing to attention, as close as he ever got to it. He didn't say anything further, however, as the pipes fell silent, and a woman dressed sombrely in a dark skirt and jumper stepped to the front.
"Thank-you, all, for joining us today," she began, in an antipodean accent of some kind, "To support us in this, perhaps the most significant of our national traditions. I am Doctor Grace Anderson, and I will be MC this morning.
"On this day ninety years ago, in the early hours of the morning, the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps landed from the Aegean Sea on the western side of the Gallipoli Peninsula. The ensuing battle, known in Turkey as the Ariburnu Battle, resulted in five thousand casualties.
"We are gathered here today, not to celebrate or to glorify war, but to remember those who have served in crises, and to reflect upon their selfless sacrifice. Those of us here are uniquely aware of the ongoing sacrifices of servicemen and women, and other serving their countries far away from their homes, and of the realities of war.
"Colonel David Wilson of the New Zealand Army is going to read us the ANZAC Requiem."
Sheppard recognise this man, one of his military minions, a hard-worker with a thick accent.
"On this day, above all days, we recall those who served in war and who did not return to receive the grateful thanks of the nation.
"We remember those who still sleep where they were left; amid the holly scrub in the valleys and the ridges of Gallipoli, on the rocky and terraced hills of Palestine, and in the lovely cemeteries of France.
"We remember those who lie asleep in ground beneath the shimmering haze of the Libyan Desert, at Bardia, Derna, Tobruk, and amid the mountain passes and olive groves of Greece and Crete, and the rugged, snow-capped hills of Lebanon and Syria.
"We remember those who lie buried in the rank jungle of Malaya and Burma, in New Guinea, and in the distant isles of the Pacific.
"We remember those who lie buried amid loving friends in our Motherland and in the Far North of Australia.
"We remember those who lie in unknown resting places in almost every land, and those gallant men whose grave is the unending sea. Especially do we remember those who died as prisoners of war, remote from their homeland, and from the comforting presence of their kith and kin.
"We think of those of our women's services who gave their lives in our own foreign lands and at sea, and of those who proved to be, in much more than name, the sisters of our fighting men.
"We think also, today, of the staunch friends from across the Tasman, who fought alongside each other on the first ANZAC Day – the men of Australia and New Zealand who together create the name ANZAC.
"We recall of those who gave their lives in the Royal Navy, the British Army, the Royal Air Force, the Merchant Service, and in other British and Dominion Forces, and we think of those British men and women who fell, when, for the second time in history, their nation and its kindred stood alone against the overwhelming might of an oppressor; we think of every man and woman who, in those crucial hours, died so that the lights of freedom and humanity might continue to shine.
"We think of those gallant men and women who died in Korea, Malaya, Borneo, Vietnam, Somalia, the Gulf, East Timor, Afghanistan and Iraq, as well as Peacekeeping Forces and on humanitarian missions, defending the Commonwealth and other countries of the Free World against a common enemy.
"May these all rest proudly in the knowledge of their achievement, and may we and our successors in that heritage prove worthy of the sacrifice."
Doctor Anderson returned to the front. "Please join us in singing 'Oh God, Our Help In Ages Past'."
The piper started up again, and Sheppard looked down to the bit of paper he'd been given on arrival for the words. He'd never been very religious, which made what happened next – the Lord's Prayer, and then readings from Micah, Ephesians, and John – all the more awkward. When that was done, a swarthy man stepped to the front. Sheppard thought he might be one of Rodney's scientists, and he was dressed in middle-eastern-looking clothing.
"On that morning in Galibolu in 1915," he began, his accent clearly indicating that English wasn't his first language, "Mustafa Kemal Atatürk engaged the ANZAC troops. Eight years later, he became the first President of the Turkish Republic, and he held the office for fifteen years. In 1934, upon accepting the title of Atatürk, which means 'Father of the Turkish People', he gave an address, which included this tribute, the meaning of which has been translated into English:
"Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives, you are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore, rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us, where they lie side-by-side here in this country of ours.
"You, the mothers who sent their sons from faraway countries, wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land, they have become our sons as well."
He closed his paper, and swapped places with a brown-skinned woman. She looked sort of Hawaiian, and Sheppard was sure he had seen her in the infirmary. She opened a piece of paper and began speaking, too.
"They clad us in the colours of the forest,
And armed us with the weapons made for war.
Then taught to us the ancient trade of killing,
And lead us to the sound of battles roar.
"So give us comfort as we lay down bleeding,
And pray upon our cold and stiffened dead.
But mark the place that we might be accounted,
This foreign soil becomes our graven bed.
"Now, children, place upon this stone a garland,
And learn of us each ANZAC Day at dawn;
We are New Zealand's dead from distant conflict,
Our sacrifice remembered ever more."
Doctor Anderson came back to the centre, and spoke again. "As we hear the strains of 'Abide With Me', we lay wreaths on the memorial." The pipes began playing again, and she continued speaking as four of the others stepped up. "Wing Commander Lachlan Murphy, on behalf of the Australian Defence Force. Colonel David Wilson, on behalf of the New Zealand Defence Force. Susan Harris, on behalf of the Royal New Zealand Nursing Corps and the Royal Australian Army Nursing Corps. Doctor Mehmet Sahin, on behalf of our friends, the people of Turkey. Doctor Park Hye Jin, on behalf of the people of Korea. Anyone else who wishes to lay a wreath on the memorial may come forward now."
A surprising number of people did, and the first among them was Elizabeth, with a large bouquet of something that looked an awful lot like rosemary. Even Rodney offered something, although his contribution was a red paper flower.
"What gives, McKay?" Sheppard demanded in an undertone when the physicist returned to where they were standing.
"There were Canadians at Gallipoli," Rodney told him brusquely. "The Royal Newfoundland Regiment, in fact. Unlike your lot, we were involved right from the beginning. We don't just stand by when our sister-countries of the Commonwealth need help."
"Hush," Elizabeth told the pair of them.
Doctor Anderson was speaking again. "We stand together to recite the Ode.
"They shall not grow 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."
Even Sheppard found himself joining in with the words which were familiar enough to him because of Veteran's Day. "We will remember them."
Colonel Wilson stepped forward, a small brass bugle in hand. Sheppard had been in the Air Force long enough to know the first strains of The Last Post when he heard them. He hadn't been sure about all this at first – in fact, he still wasn't sure why it was happening now, rather than in November – but even his attitude wouldn't stoop to desecrate The Last Post and the minute's silence.
The silence was followed by another tune, which seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it, and the flags were raised to the masthead. They still looked the same to Sheppard, but he supposed that one was the Australian flag and one was the New Zealand flag. He noticed for the first time a third flag, red with a white crescent and a star. Turkey?
"Lest we forget," Anderson said, once the flags were raised.
"Lest we forget," the assembled crowd responded.
"Please join us in singing the national anthems of New Zealand and Australia," she told them. "God Defend New Zealand."
Sheppard had to admit he'd never really heard the New Zealand anthem before, and it had a rather stirring tune. He had the words on the sheet before him, and the second verse looked like complete gibberish to him. He wondered what language it was, and it seemed to pronounce every single letter. Only the two women at the front seemed to sing that bit particularly strongly.
"Advance Australia Fair."
This second anthem was far less inspiring musically, but the words weren't terribly bad.
"That concludes the formal service for today," Anderson said presently. "Thank-you for joining us in remembrance, and feel free to join us the mess hall for a breakfast of sausages, eggs, and ANZAC biscuits."
That seemed to be that, and it was light now, too, but the darker-skinned woman started singing as people dispersed. It was that language again, but the tune was familiar. "Po kare kare ana... nga wai o Rotarua..."
"Major Sheppard," Colonel Wilson smiled as he passed on the way out. "Thank-you for coming along today."
"Oh, no biggie, Dave," Sheppard replied. "Although I have to admit, I'm still not entirely sure why you do this today, and not in November like everyone else."
"Oh, we do it in November, too," David told him quickly. "But it's a little different. Remembrance Day is about the end of the First World War. ANZAC Day is about remembering Kiwis and Australians who have fought in any war. If I were back home, I'd probably get to march later today."
"So, ah, the 25th of April is a pretty special day for you, then?" Sheppard asked.
"Pretty special, yes," David nodded. "I mean, it's part of our national psyche. Before World War One, both Australia and New Zealand had been British Colonies. Australia was Federation in 1901, I think, even though we didn't end up joining them. A lot of people still thought of themselves as being British and would follow England anywhere, even if England ordered them to their deaths. A lot of these wars aren't popular; following your lot into Iraq was just an unpopular as Korea and Vietnam. But that doesn't really change things. They were senseless wars, really, but our soldiers shouldn't be forgotten."
Sheppard winced, thinking of all the people who had fought alongside who were dead now. His comrades in Afghanistan; even Colonel Sumner. No, they shouldn't be forgotten; and war wasn't as glorious as it was sometimes made out to be back home. Returned soldiers were welcomed as heroes, flags flown and military parades proudly marched. It seemed the Australians and New Zealanders did it different, if today was any indication. The whole service had been solemn, sad, and contemplative; nothing like the up-beat and even mock-violent military events he was used to.
"Come on," David said with a smile, directing him back into the shelter of Atlantis, "Have you ever tried ANZAC bickies?"
The Requiem is adapted from the ANZAC Requiem found on the RSL Australia website.
O God, Our Help in Ages Past is a paraphrase of Psalm 90 written by Isaac Watts and set to music by William Croft.
Spirit of ANZAC was written by Mike Subritzky in 1986, and was taken from warpoetry-dot-co-dot-uk.
The second bugle tune is The Rouse. I originally had Sheppard recognising it, and then I realised that The Rouse is a shortened version of the Commonwealth Reveille, which is very different to the American Reveille.
Obviously, I've made various assumptions about all sorts of things, from how much Sheppard knows about ANZAC Day and related things – for example, do you even observe Remembrance Day in the US the same way we do? Would he be familiar with the Ode? With the Last Post? – to trying to work out how a Dawn Service might be run with just a handful of Australians and Kiwis (and one Turk) – a lot of the bits I'm familiar with are Australia-oriented, so I rephrased things to be more inclusive of a New Zealand perspective. But which anthem should be sung first? In Australia, ours always has to be last – is it the other way around in New Zealand?
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and learnt something. A shout-out to any Australians or New Zealanders out there! Free ANZAC bickies for people who review!