ANZAC Day

This day is a special one for Australia and New Zealand. April 25—ANZAC Day—broadly commemorates all Australians and New Zealanders “who served and died in all wars, conflicts, and peacekeeping operations” and “the contribution and suffering of all those who have served.” More particularly this is the anniversary of the amphibious landing at Gallipoli in the Dardanelles on 25 April, 1915, of the combined Australia and New Zealand Army Corps under the command of General William Birdwood. The ANZAC contingent formed part of a combined British Imperial and French “Mediterranean Expeditionary Force” consisting of approximately 78,000 men. The assault was fiercely and, as it turned out, successfully resisted by Ottoman forces so that allied troops were evacuated to Egypt at the end of 1915. Even if one had no relations who fought and died there (as we do), the Gallipoli campaign has assumed a powerful symbolism for both Commonwealth countries, even though far more British troops were killed there. When I was small, the focus of commemoration in Melbourne was somewhat divided between ANZAC Day and Remembrance Day, which still marks the signing of the armistice in Marshal Foch’s railway carriage at Compiègne at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month of 1918, which brought the Great War to an end. The symbolism of poppies and of Flanders’ Fields was still powerful. However, over recent decades I have sensed that ANZAC Day has gradually assumed greater and broader significance south of the equator. In the United States even Remembrance Day passes each year without too much fuss—it is known here as “Veterans’ Day.” It is a very different story in Britain. Each November millions of red poppies slip into buttonholes ahead of the solemn observances at the Cenotaph in Whitehall and elsewhere. Obviously, however, stateside ANZAC Day is completely invisible. I find this slightly melancholy. In two years’ time we shall observe the centenary of ANZAC, and this span of years strikes me as remarkable, for I will then be fifty-one. Three of my grandfather Borthwick’s own brothers fought at Gallipoli. One was killed; another grievously wounded (he lost an arm), however a third survived relatively intact. My grandfather volunteered but could not serve because he had “a dicky ticker”—which is how people then referred to a heart condition, in his case a pretty serious one. He died in middle age as a direct consequence of it, so, alas, I never knew him.

William and Helen Borthwick at Raeshaw

William and Helen Borthwick, my grandparents, at Raeshaw, Fulham, near Sale, East Gippsland, c. 1924.

William Arthur Borthwick (1894–1953) was the fourth son and sixth child of William Borthwick and Ada Maud Mary, the eldest of the eight daughters of Edward Connor Bell and Katherine Anne Wallen.

William senior, my great-grandfather, migrated from Scotland in 1869, aged 19, after his father, Alexander Hay Borthwick, refused to buy him a commission in the Indian Army, in which two of his uncles had served with some distinction.

He may have been prompted to go to Australia by the fact that his father’s brother, Uncle John James Malcolm Borthwick, preceded him, and created in about 1850 the Tarong station atop the Blackbutt Range in the South Burnett region of southern Queensland, approximately sixty miles due west of Caloundra, and was one of the first men to ship wool from Brisbane.

On reaching Melbourne he joined the National Bank of Australasia Limited, and became the youngest man ever appointed manager of a branch, in this case at Maffra. Thence he was eventually transferred to Sale, where the family settled permanently.

My grandfather’s eldest brother, the namesake of their grandfather, Alexander Hay Borthwick, or Uncle Lex, as he was known, served in the A. I.F., lost an arm in Palestine, married Eva Sage of Mildura (a nurse whom he met whilst recuperating), and settled on the land not far from Cowarr in East Gippsland.

The second brother, 1st Lieutenant Keith Borthwick of the 8th (Victorian) Regiment of the 3rd Light Horse Brigade, fell on August 7, 1915, in the first wave in the famous Battle of the Nek at Gallipoli, one of the most famous but costly moments in Australian history. Because he was an officer, the name of Lt. Keith Borthwick, and his occupation (grazier), appear in one of the most haunting footnotes of Bean’s official history. The hundreds of ordinary diggers who died were, of course, not listed.

The third brother, John Malcolm, had much earlier chosen to pursue a career as a professional officer in the British Army, but evidently committed suicide at Aden in 1908, aged 20.

He had two younger sisters, Aunt Jean and Aunt Kath (Kathleen), a talented viola player in what Uncle John used to describe mischievously as “Ziggy Zelman’s Follies,” but which was, in fact, the budding Melbourne Symphony Orchestra, whose first concert took place on December 11, 1906, under the baton of Maestro Alberto Zelman.

Neither Aunt Kath nor Aunt Jean (q.v.) ever married. As a dedicated volunteer, Aunt Jean transcribed by hand entire books in Braille. She and Aunt Kath lived together, first with their mother, known affectionately as “Da,” in Adelaide Street, Armadale, and then in a modest ground floor flat in Myamyn Street, a few doors down from Granny.

My grandfather, William, came after Aunt Kath, and, finally, the baby brother, Ronald Murray Borthwick, who also served in the A. I.F., and eventually married Aunt Meryl, the daughter of Dr. Hagenauer of Sale.

On November 10, 1953, at the Veterinary School grounds at Parkville, Uncle Ron demonstrated a revolutionary stock cradle, which was thought to have considerable influence in the treatment and control of foot rot.

According to an engaging memoir she wrote in the early 1970s, Granny knew the Borthwick family when they were all growing up together in and around Sale. She recalled Aunt Kath coming as Red Riding Hood to a big fancy-dress dance in the drawing room at Kilmany, and, later, in 1912, Granny’s coming out year, going to dances in Melbourne and golfing tournaments in Traralgon with Lex and Keith Borthwick.

The war was as costly for the Borthwick family as it was for scores of others. My grandfather volunteered for active duty, but was prevented from serving due to a heart condition brought on by having contracted rheumatic fever as a child.

In the end he lost two brothers, who, if they had survived might conceivably have been more suitable husbands for my grandmother, such is the vague sense one gets from a close reading of the relevant portion of Granny’s memoir, which was written long after William died of a heart attack at Berwick in 1953.

Anzac Biscuits

Pre-heat the oven to 300 degrees Fahrenheit, and lightly grease a baking sheet. Mix in a bowl the following dry ingredients: 1 cup of rolled oats; 1 cup of plain flour, ½ cup of sugar, ¾ cup of dessicated coconut, and a pinch of salt. Melt in a saucepan 1½ sticks of butter and 2 generous, dripping tablespoons of golden syrup. Mix 1 tablespoon of boiling water, ½ teaspoon of baking soda, then add 1 or 2 teaspoons of vanilla essence. Add this to the melted butter and golden syrup concoction. Pour into the dry ingredients, and mix well. (If it looks too sloppy, add a little extra flour or some more oats.) Spoon onto the baking sheet, then bake for about 20 minutes. Allow to cool. Prepare a pot of tea, then devour.

The acronym ANZAC was first coined by Lieutenant-General Sir William Birdwood as a telegraphic code for the Australia and New Zealand Army Corps in 1915, when colonial troops were dispatched to Egypt and Palestine, and later deployed in Winston Churchill’s ill-conceived Dardanelles campaign. The wrong spot on the Gallipoli Peninsula where the Anzac contingent landed, and met with fierce resistance from the Turks, was (and still is) called Anzac Cove (Anzak Koyu in Turkish).

Before 1928, when Atatürk shifted the Turkish language from the Arabic over to the Roman alphabet, the transliteration of Ottoman place names was a wobbly business. However, the French, who were licensed by the authorities in Constantinople to issue stamps and handle mail in various parts of the Ottoman Empire, had a post office at Gallipoli (Gelibolu), the town overlooking the Dardanelles on the peninsula that is also called Gallipoli, that is to say Gelibolu Yarimadasi.

Derived from the Greek Kallipolis, “Gallípoli” was not a corruption of Gelibolu, but was instead the modern name of the ancient Greek port near Lecce in Puglia on the western side of the heel of Italy.

The Italian spelling of the Greek name provided a rational model for the French post office in Turkey, British cartographers and, later, the Imperial expeditionary force of 75,000 men under the command of General Sir Ian Hamilton, all of whom were to become thoroughly acquainted with Anzac Cove after the landings of April 25, 1915, the anniversary of which is still commemorated in Australia, New Zealand, and the United Kingdom as “Anzac Day.”

The origins of Anzac biscuits are unknown, and the earliest combination recorded in the excellent Australian National Dictionary comes in Australian Home Cookery (1943). It seems unlikely that they were ever prepared in the trenches, as the old story has it.

Biscuit is Australian English for cookie, and this recipe was kindly furnished by my dear friend Lucy S. Carruthers, formerly of Parkville, Kensington, Albert Park, Moscow, Sydney, Evanston, Ill., and Minneapolis, Minn.