This speech was given by The Hon John Anderson MP Deputy Prime Minister of Australia on Anzac Day at Lone Pine, 25 April 2002.  We are at Lone Pine to pay special tribute to the Australian diggers who fought at Gallipoli. These hills and ravines are the resting place of thousands of Australians. Their names will sound through our history forever. The battle here at Lone Pine was a diversion, an attempt to stop the Turkish Army from moving reinforcements north. It turned into one of the most intense battles of the campaign, as the men of the Australian Imperial Force fought their way through the knotted trenches of the Turkish position. One digger wrote in his diary, "Of all the bastards of places, this is the greatest bastard of them all." Seven Australians were awarded the Victoria Cross, the highest number for any action in our history. The Turkish soldiers fought with equal bravery, and suffered unspeakable losses. Our common grief reminds us that Gallipoli helped create modern Turkey as well as modern Australia. The friendship between our two countries is renewed every time we stand together here. We Australians remember our diggers because their example inspired our country. They fought to defend the ideals that our soldiers in Afghanistan are upholding today: freedom, democracy, and mateship. Their heroism reminds us that we have to defend the things we care about, or they will be lost. There will always be conflicts in this fallen world, yet we hope and pray that every one will be the last. There is, however, no glory in war, just the stern knowledge that the alternatives are sometimes worse. War is a tale of lives cut short, hopes dashed, and terrible suffering. I want to tell you the story of one of my relatives, Patrick Anderson. He was a station manager, and joined the AIF three weeks after the start of the war. Patrick became a lieutenant with the fourth battalion, which landed at Anzac Cove on the morning of the 25th of April. On the first of May, his father received a telegram from the Defence Department. I have it here, stamped with the hieroglyphs of dusty filing clerks. It says:

Regret reported Lieutenant P.S. Anderson dangerously wounded in action Dardanelles twentysixth ultimo will wire reports as to progress.

My family must have prayed desperately for their son. But it was too late. He had died of his wounds before the telegram was even sent. Patrick made out a simple will on the day of the landings, and gave his money to Miss Eileen Ross. She must have been very special to him, but all we know about her now is that she lived on a station near Glen Innes. Patrick should have lived into the 1960s, married his sweetheart, and grown old to play with his grandchildren. Instead, he was taken from us, like so many others in this place of death. They will never truly die. We have recorded them in stone, and we speak their names with pride. They live on in every town that has a war memorial, and every time our children march on Anzac Day. Remember what you have seen here today. Remember how you felt at the rising of the sun. Tell your children about your journey. For we must always remember the spirit of Anzac.