The 11^th Annual Riverina 2021 ANZAC Day writing competition highlighted talent across our regional Catholic schools.

The competition is an initiative of Deputy Prime Minister, the Hon Michael McCormack MP, to showcase students in the Riverina. The winning students’ compositions have been published in an ANZAC Day commemorative booklet that was distributed to households throughout the Riverina.

Sarah Miller in Year 7 at Hennessy Catholic College, Young, and Carus Grey, Year 6 student at St Anne’s Central School, Temora, were awarded first place. Sarah’s moving poem ‘The Day That They Left’ was selected as the Eastern Riverina Region winner, while Carus was selected as the Western Riverina Region winner for his short story, ‘Landings at Gallipoli’.

Mitchell Dunstan, a Year 8 student, also from St Anne’s Central School, and Lucinda Shields, Year 6, from Sacred Heart Central School, Cootamundra, were ‘Highly Commended’ for their entries.

Deputy Prime Minister McCormack visited the schools of winning students to present them with their awards - a book prize.

He was impressed with the quality of the work. Having received over 900 entries from 47 schools across the Riverina, he said the winning entries stood out for their reflection on the significance of ANZAC Day and how different last year’s commemoration was due to COVID-19.

“Everyone who took part should be proud of their work and those who wrote winning and highly commended entries should be especially happy with themselves,” he said.

‘The Day That They Left’
Sarah Miller, Year 7
Hennessy Catholic College, Young

Steel-toed boots tapping against the tar as they run
The beat of the music as they march in line
Proudly holding their slouch hat and gun
Flowing past the houses, leaving loved ones behind.

They pull to a halt – fear hidden by a stern face
Not a single tear will we see from them
They stand tall, at attention, ready to brace
Mothers, wives, daughters – weeping over the loud drum.

The boys stand, ready to depart
Alert to the cruelty of nature
Boots, uniform and pride in their heart
They stamp their feet as orders come from their Major.

Convoys arrive and they jump in with speed
The trucks rumble off with defiance
Those left behind struggle as their hearts bleed
Left only with memories and silence.

Memories dwell for the families as loss gathers
Supporting each other amidst the agony
Husbands, sons and fathers
The day ends in silent prayer and reality.

They are expected to stay alive
The pain that families suffer
At home, they work to survive
So the men can return to the homes to recover.

For the day those courageous boys marched away
Was, and will forever be, commemorated
We remember the brave souls who fought and kept the enemy at bay
This is the enduring memory of the ANZAC legend.

‘Landings at Gallipoli’
Carus Grey, Year 6
St Anne’s Central School, Temora

After training for four months in Egypt we were going to see action, at least we think so, they still haven’t told us where we’re going. All we know is that we’re going to Europe.

It’s 0450 hours on 25th April, they say we’re landing soon. They put us on small boats with our 101 rifles and send us out, thousands of us, all on boats. Our craft lands and we’re moving up the beaches.

I can hear machine gun fire everywhere shredding apart my friends and brothers in arms. I take shelter behind a rock on the beach and try to get my stuff together. We are the first of four waves, we are supposed to bunker in further up the beaches so waves two, three and four can get cover when they land.

Four more months of gruelling fighting and the Turks want a truce to bury both sides’ dead.

Our 101 rifles stood no chance against the Turks’ machine guns, they shredded us.

After eight months of fighting, we decided the fighting at Gallipoli was pointless and we decided to leave, so two kerosene tins were placed one above the other, the top one full of water and the bottom one with the trigger string attached to it, empty.

At the last minute, small holes would be punched in the upper tin; water would trickle into the lower one, and the rifle would fire as soon as the lower tin had become heavy.

‘Home’
Mitchell Dunstan, Year 8
St Anne’s Central School, Temora

Nate stood in front of the old oak door, he struggled to believe that he was finally home after all the hell he’d been through.

He was home, at last, home to see his wife and his two girls who he had missed so dearly. He took a deep breath in and out as he mustered the courage to knock. He could see his breath swirling in the frosty air as he breathed out. Nate finally decided to knock…

It had been weeks since Emma had heard from Nate. Every time Emily or Mia asked when their Dad was coming home, she would smile and make up a lie when on the inside she was crying. Emma had read about the war coming to an end in the local newspaper, but she never believed it. She tried to keep herself preoccupied with jobs around the house.

Nate knocked; Emma was startled to hear someone knocking on the door at this time in the morning. She opened the door to an unexpected sight. Emma jumped into Nate’s arms through joy, after a few moments, they let go and Emily and Mia walked in. “Daddy,” they screamed with delight. The family was finally reunited after years of being apart, at last, Nate was home.

‘Grandpa’
Lucinda Shields, Year 7
Sacred Heart Central School, Cootamundra

It’s a long, cold, bitter walk from my house to the park, but it’s nothing compared to what my grandfather went through when he served in the war for two years. As the gravel in our driveway crunches under my gum boots, I remember the letters he sent that my family had kept, about how cold it was, even inside the big trucks.

Birds perch on the powerline and I look up towards them. It reminds me of when Dad spoke about Grandpa’s countless stories about birds and their adventures in the sky. As I cross the road, I pass a house with a beautiful front garden, the tips of the petals frosty, but the bright colours still poked through. Grandpa always said in his letters that there were hardly any flowers in Germany.

A big, loud truck rumbles by, pulling me from my thoughts. I dive my icy hands into my pockets, but it doesn’t make very much difference. I imagine warming my hands by Grandad’s brick fireplace, the smell of rosemary filling the house. Granny always cut rosemary from her bush this time of the year, gathering it together in small bunches. I can hear a trumpet playing in the distance. My beanie itches the back of my neck, and I can hear the trumpet getting louder. The trumpet is playing ‘The Last Post’.

I reach my destination and join the gathering, quiet, sombre crowd. 

“Happy ANZAC Day, Grandpa,” I say quietly, “I’m proud of you.”