I cannot
comprehend the scale of the war, or what you went through. Nor do I think I ever will. But what I do understand is enough. Enough to make me care. Enough to make me know – there are things we
can’t ignore. Things that must be
remembered, understood and respected.
And things that must never be repeated.
Mistakes to be learnt from. But
also courage to be admired.
Today we
remember this all.
And in this
remembering, we honour one of many.
You were
but one of the 65 million young men
to fight in the First World War. One of over
400 000 brave
Australians to serve, and one of nearly 60 000 Australians who didn't make it home.
Today we
remember you, 2nd Lieutenant Leslie Varley Duxbury – as you rest
here in cold, hard, foreign soil. But rest
easy, friend, for you will stay forever in our hearts.
***
You were
very young, at your age you could easily have been my older brother. Like me you loved your sport, your music,
your family and your country.
You laid
down your life to protect your country, my country, our country. For your ultimate sacrifice we give you our
upmost respect and thanks.
It is your
self-sacrifice that gives us freedom and opportunity today. My life in Australia is filled with many
fantastic opportunities. Opportunities
like this prize. Opportunities to play
sport or music – two pastimes that Leslie and I both share.
That’s one
reason for why I have decided to bring this football here today. Let this be a reminder of your love of sport
– something which I think is embedded in the Anzac spirit, and football in
particular. Let it also be a symbol of
your sacrifice that allows me to love this great game and play football (both
Aussie Rules, and soccer).
I am also
leaving the sheet music of the patriotic song “Come on Australians” that you sang with ‘great success’. I will now
play a recording of this song and ask you to join me in singing if you wish.
Your
parents never got a chance to visit your grave as I’m sure they would have
dearly loved to. So I’m placing their
photo here, so they can finally visit their son’s final resting place.
***
His life:
Leslie
Varley Duxbury was born in Wayville, South Australia. Which, for those of you that don’t know, is just
south of the city, near the Adelaide Showgrounds.
He went to
school in Semaphore and later became a Sales Manager. It was clear that he had a talent and a
passion for both sport and singing. He
played football, baseball, rowed and he sang.
When war broke out overseas, the young 23 year old was actively giving
his time - singing at free patriotic concerts.
His
maternal uncle was one of the first to sign up – in the May of 1915. Tragically, he was also among the 8 000 plus brave Anzacs to perish on the
shores of Gallipoli.
I think
that it was this news of his uncle’s death that fully motivated Leslie to join
the cause – and that September he enlisted his own services with the AIF.
He left
Australia the following April in 1916 as part of the 32nd
Battalion. He trained in Egypt for a
short while before arriving in France a couple of months later. There he fought in the Battle of Fromelles –
a bloody battle that saw over 5 ½ thousand Aussie casualties in 24 hours the worst day in our wartime history
In the
October of 1917, Leslie was sent over to England to an Officers’ Training
College – where he was anticipated to “… make a splendid officer.”
In the May
of 1918 he was back in France; now as a 2nd Lieutenant of his
Battalion. He was also appointed as the
sports officer to the battalion, something in which he took great pride.
A few
months later the 32nd battalion was involved in the fight to reclaim
Mont St. Quentin and Péronne. It was a fierce battle that saw the Germans
speedily retreat.
Despite the military success of the action, it came at a cost. Australia
suffered the loss of a fine young officer. For on the 3rd of
September 1918, in the fields of France, Leslie Duxbury was hit in the thigh by
a stray high explosive while taking some well-earned rest. He was transferred, unconscious, to the 5th
Clearing Casualty Hospital, where he subsequently died 3 days later.
Back home in
South Australia this news must have greatly grieved his poor mother. Already having lost her brother; the war had
now claimed a second victim; her only son.
**
I am currently
reading Somme Mud, you may have heard
of it. It’s the story of 18 year old Private
Edward Lynch as he served on the Western Front in World War 1.
I would
just like to share with you an extract that really hit home for me. It really made me think of Lucy Kate,
Leslie’s mother. It serves as a reminder
that wars are not just fought on the battlefields.
Lynch and his
mates have just carried out a daring capture of an enemy trench and Lynch is
reporting the details to the colonel.
‘The stunt is over,’ the colonel
says, and tells him everything he’s just got out of me. The old colonel seems happy.
Over is it? For some it’s over as
mortal life goes, poor beggars. Is it
over for those who are writhing in the excruciating agony of shattered bones,
of torn intestines, of punctured lungs, or shot-off limbs, of bruised and
mangled flesh? Is it over for those who
will never again walk upright as men, but pass what’s left of their suffering
lives as cripples – getting their country’s sympathy but little else? Is it over for the women who wait and pray and
are doomed to long, lonely years ahead with nothing but a memory to cherish and
nothing but that memory to comfort them along the road they had so hoped to
tread with their soldier boy? Is it over
for the kiddies who’ll face life handicapped in so many ways by the loss of
their daddy? Colonel, you are
mistaken! The stunt isn’t over. It’s barely begun for those upon whom it
falls the heaviest.
Leslie had
so much potential and so much to live for.
His courage, passion, good humour, integrity and all round zest for life
encompassed the essence of the Anzac spirit.
War may have taken his life but it can never take away his spirit – the
Anzac spirit, and the everlasting effect it has had and will continue to have
on my life.
Until I researched
Leslie Duxbury he was all but forgotten, the last of his line. It seems so cruel for his life to be taken when
victory was so near – when he had so much more to offer. It is a small comfort, at least, to think
that now he has not been forgotten. And
I feel honoured and privileged to be able to share his incredible story with
you here today.
Leslie, I
would like you to know that your death was not in vain. The muddy, bloody battlefields that you
fought on almost a century ago must be an alien world compared to the quiet
countryside we see today.
There is
peace here now.
Thanks for
your sacrifice, Leslie mate.
Rest in
peace. Thanks.
They shall grow not 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.
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