Bridget Archer (Bass, Liberal Party) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

On Anzac Day 2023, as I've done for many years prior, I gathered with the George Town community to pay my respects at their dawn service. This year, I was struck by a wonderful speech and original poem shared by Star of the Sea student Keegan Jacobs, a recipient of a George Town RSL bursary.

Keegan spoke of his great-grandfather Raymond Mudie who fought in World War II as a corporal and sergeant, facing battles in the Middle East. I wanted to share just a small extract of Keegan's speech about his late great-grandfather that he affectionately called 'Poppa'.

No matter what, the men that poppa led was his main priority, this was especially shown on their return to Australia. Whilst waiting on the ship to be allowed to disembark, one of the officers was trying to make all the men do exercises. Men who had been fighting a war for years, who were exhausted and just wanted to go home. Poppa being the inventive person that he was decided that this was not going to happen and he threw the officer overboard. This was one of the instances where he went from Sergeant to Corporal quite quickly. I like to think that if I was in that situation, I would have the courage he did to stand up for his men.

Although the war ended in 1945, the battles continued for many service men and women for the rest of their lives. Poppa had demons that he fought for the rest of his life, the memories of what he went through never left him. To his family he tried very hard to be the happy smiley man who left for the war, however, at times it was too much to bare, and he had to deal with a lot on his own.

Keegan then shared a beautiful poem he wrote about the Ukrainian war and the effect on its children. The poem is called 'Then and now':

Where there were school bells, learning and toys, Now there are soldiers, who used to be boys.

Our slingshots replaced by sub machine guns, now we are marching to the beat of the drums.

Playgrounds are empty, not a child to be seen, now in formation in military green.

Our mothers so used to watching us play, now they are crying as we march away.

The face of my friends were so young and clean, now they are damaged by something unseen.

Where there was music, laughter and glee, now there is sorrow where joy used to be.

Our grandparents house where we all used to meet, is now desolate, its destruction complete.

Where there used to be mischief behind his eyes, now for the first time I've heard my father's cries.

The perfume of flowers is no more, now it's the stench of death and war.

When will it stop? What is the cause? Haven't they learnt there is no point in wars.

I don't care who is right or wrong, I don't want to end up the name of a song.

Why are we taught, not to fight, but to talk, when all of our leaders don't walk the same walk?

Maybe us kids should make the rules, haven't you noticed there are no wars in schools?

Later in the day, I had the pleasure of addressing a small gathering of residents in Nunamara to share the story of one of their own: Jessie Simons, later Jessie Hookway. Jessie was raised on a farm in Nunamara and undertook training as a nurse at the Launceston General Hospital before heading to Singapore in September 1941 to attend to wounded soldiers.

With the advance of Japanese forces on Singapore, Jessie was evacuated with 65 of her nursing sisters and a large cohort of civilians on 12 February 1942. Two days later, their vessel, the SS Vyner Brooke came under sustained bombing attack by the Japanese. Jessie was rescued from the water and, once on land, was taken as a prisoner of war along with 32 of her nursing sisters, eight of whom would die in internment. More than 20 of her former colleagues were massacred on 16 February in what became known as the Bangka Island massacre.

For 3½ years Jessie remained a prisoner of war, returning home in late 1945. Just two days after her return, Jessie was interviewed by the Mercury newspaper and said: 'There were things you couldn't imagine, and I wouldn't want you to know. It seems 1,000 years since I left Launceston.' Jessie went on to write an account of her time during the war titled 'While History Passed', and passed away in Launceston in December 2004 at the age of 93. Lest we forget.