To mark ANZAC day

Although not directly related to ANZAC Day, this incident for which I was honoured to speak at a remembrance service last year, seemed to me to be one of those times that we might remember at this time. (For the non-aussie reader, ANZAC DAY the 25th April, is the day we remember the Battles at Gallipoli in 1915.
If you are interested, have a look at: http://www.awm.gov.au/commemoration/anzac/anzac_tradition.htm)

(The above photo was taken by a US serviceman at the time. Unofficially as they weren't supposed to be carrying cameras.)
The place that this wreck occured is a few kilometers south along the coast from my home. Its a truly beautiful spot, sadly gradually filling with houses. Anyway, to the story.

Sixty three years ago this point was being battered by a huge storm that had been raging for several days. Over a metre or 40 inches of rain had fallen over the previous week. A 9000t US tanker the Cities Service Boston was off this point. She was in a convoy heading for Melbourne. Japanese submarines were believed to be in the area and she was close to the coast to minimize the risk of attack. However with the bad weather and very poor visibility, she ran on to the rock shelf just out from this point.

This happened at about 5.50am in the dark.
Its not hard to image the fear that those seamen would have been experiencing. As an aside, this coast has seen over 2000 ships lost in the last one hundred and fifty years or so with many lives lost. And that does not include the small fishing boats and recreational craft. Today, if you come down to this spot, you drive past new subdivisions on bitumen roads and it is taken for granted. However, back then this was a pretty bleak and lonely spot. Shellharbour, the nearest village, consisted of a few cottages and fishing shacks, a pub and not much more. Kiama was probably the nearest town but was still just a small fishing and quarry town. Dapto was the nearest centre of any consequence and that was where the nearest help could be found. It was where the No.6 Machine Gun Battalion was based and those men were called on for help. They were obviously under orders, but I don’t doubt that they didn’t grumble or argue. They would have given their all. They would have piled into their trucks and came down to this spot. Its not hard to picture. Sitting in those old Bedford trucks, canvas covered, and probably leaking. The roads here would have been full of pot holes and by the time they got here everyone would have been pretty wet. I’ll bet too that there was quite a bit of adrenalin flowing; they would have all been hyped up and ready to get into it. They arrived at about 8.30 am.

On the ship were 62 American seamen. No doubt they would have been going through a practiced routine, but if you have ever seen a big swell running down this coast, and the look of the jagged rocks off this point, the possibility of getting 62 men safely ashore would have been daunting. Attempts had been made to put a lifeboat into the water but it had been smashed to pieces. The site of those rescuers must have been very welcome. A line was made between the ship and the shore when two very courageous men of the Machine Gun Bt. swam out and picked up a line flung from the ship tied around a lifejacket. The actual conditions must have been appalling, and it doesn’t take much imagination to picture the chaos. A bosun’s chair was rigged and the seamen started to come ashore. Apparently waves were hitting the chair and sometimes the rescuers. Towards the end of the rescue, a huge wave broke right over the ship That was around 4.00pm near high tide. It took twelve of the men out. Most were pulled back. But it wasn’t the case for four of the rescuers. All 62 of the sailors were saved, but four men of No.6 Machine Gun Bt. all lost their lives in the surf that day.

These men gave up their lives in saving others.

There are many stories of this sort of heroism. Three come to mind. The story of the Cameron Highlander, who, as a prisoner of war on the Burma railway, died brutally because the Japanese commander thought, wrongly as it turned out, that tools were being bartered for food with local villagers. This man volunteered to die to save all his mates. There is the story of Simpson and his donkey at Gallipoli. As a stretcher bearer, he saved hundreds of men. A man who eventually gave his life to save others. The story of the Franciscan friar, Mychal Judge, who was a chaplain in the New York fire department on Sept 11, 2001 A man who gave no thought to his own life and went into the trade centre to try to help. He paid the ultimate price.
When someone lays down their life for someone else, he is carrying out the ultimate act of love. Anthropologists will tell you that successful societies are ones with a common purpose, ones where amongst other things, individuals care about their fellow man. This true story serves as a reminder to us, particularly in this age of “looking after number one”; that people can transcend the self centred world and live and sometimes die for others.

In the words of the Fransiscan friar, Mychal Judge:

Lord, take me where you want me to go;

Let me meet who you want me to meet;

Tell me what you want me to say

And keep me out of Your way.

The memorial that was erected by the surviving members of N0.6 Btn in 1968