
Anzac Day is upon us. I ran through Kings Park last evening where the   Anzac Day Dawn service takes place. Hard to believe the size and  scale  of the planning for the dawn service.
Thinking  about Anzac Day  brings to mine James Scott's book 
Domination   and the Arts of Resistance in which he writes of the public   rituals, performances and ceremonies- parades, memorials, state   ceremonies- that the powerful use to distract attention away from the   strategies they use to retain power. War of course being one of those.
I   will spend the day reflecting on the horror and tragedy of war, and of   Australia's history of fighting in other country's wars. I will think  of  my own family members who fought (and suffered) as a result of their   war experiences. They had no interest in all the glorification and   memorialisaion of war.
And I will think of a former neighbour of  mine. He fought in New Guinea where he saw the  horror of war. He told  me once that "war is just ordinary men with families and children  killing other  ordinary men with families and children...... Unnecessary  killing that’s what war is”. I wonder if his message will get spoken on  Anzac Day.
A piece inspired by a conversation I had with him on   the eve of the invasion of Iraq can be read
  here.And I will  listen to Australian music and read poetry  that speaks of the horror, futility and brutality  of war. One song I  will play is 
Eric  Bogle's masterpiece of the futility  of war, And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda  (the versions I will listen to  is the Bushwackers' version-just voice and piano-from their 1975 album and English singer 
June Tabor's version featuring just her unaccompanied voice.)
I  will also be listening  to 
John Schuman and  the Vagabond Crew's 
Behind the Lines  a CD of Australian anti-war songs, including songs he  wrote for the  socio-political folk band 
Redgum  in the 70's and 80's, as well as covers of other  Australian songs of  war by Don Walker (Khe Sanh), Russell Morris (On the Wings of an Eagle),  Rob Hirst and Midnite Oil (My Country) Eric Bogle (And the Band Played  Walzing Matilda and No Man's Land) and Mike Rudd and Spectrum (I'll be  Gone/ Someday I'll have money)
And the Band Played Waltzing  Matilda
by Eric Bogle
When  I was a young man I carried my  pack
And I lived the free life of a  rover
From the Murrays green  basin to the dusty outback
I waltzed  my Matilda all over
Then in  nineteen fifteen my country said Son
It's  time to stop rambling  'cause there's work to be done
So they gave me  a tin hat and they  gave me a gun
And they sent me away to the war
And  the band  played Waltzing Matilda
As we sailed away from the quay
And   amidst all the tears and the shouts and the cheers
We sailed off to   Gallipoli
How well I remember that terrible day
How the blood   stained the sand and the water
And how in that hell that they called   Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter
Johnny   Turk he was ready, he primed himself well
He chased us with bullets,   he rained us with shells
And in five minutes flat he'd blown us all   to hell
Nearly blew us right back to Australia
But the band  played  Waltzing Matilda
As we stopped to bury our slain
We buried  ours  and the Turks buried theirs
Then we started all over again
Now   those that were left, well we tried to survive
In a mad world of   blood, death and fire
And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive
But   around me the corpses piled higher
Then a big Turkish shell knocked   me arse over tit
And when I woke up in my hospital bed
And saw   what it had done, I wished I was dead
Never knew there were worse   things than dying
For no more I'll go waltzing Matilda
All around   the green bush far and near
For to hump tent and pegs, a man needs   two legs
No more waltzing Matilda for me
So they collected the   cripples, the wounded, the maimed
And they shipped us back home to   Australia
The armless, the legless, the blind, the insane
Those   proud wounded heroes of Suvla
And as our ship pulled into Circular   Quay
I looked at the place where my legs used to be
And thank   Christ there was nobody waiting for me
To grieve and to mourn and to   pity
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As they carried us down   the gangway
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared
Then   turned all their faces away
And now every April I sit on my  porch
And  I watch the parade pass before me
And I watch my old  comrades, how  proudly they march
Reliving old dreams of past glory
And  the old  men march slowly, all bent, stiff and sore
The forgotten  heroes from a  forgotten war
And the young people ask, "What are they  marching  for?"
And I ask myself the same question
And the band  plays  Waltzing Matilda
And the old men answer to the call
But  year after  year their numbers get fewer
Some day no one will march  there at all
Waltzing  Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
Who'll come a  waltzing Matilda with me
And  their ghosts may be heard as you pass  the Billabong
Who'll  come-a-waltzing Matilda with me?
copyright ©  Eric Bogle