Australians know and respect this, and if there is a single policy prescription which bears virtually universal acceptance, among all parties and classes of citizens, it is a determination that such sacrifices shall not have been in vain, that those who have served their nation in times of its need have a continuing call on our respect and assistance in their own times of need. That's a feeling, a judgment and a popular command which stands above all disputes about the wisdom of particular engagements in which members of our services were involved, about the history, progress, and even outcomes of such episodes.

Where soldiers are sent is a matter for politicians ultimately the people. Some missions recently, for example, in Iraq were opposed by significant sections of the community. But this division does not diminish our pride in, respect or affection for, or demands for support of the men and women who have gone where they were sent.

That special recognition is not in the least diminished by another aspect of the commemoration, perhaps the stronger now that so many of those who gave that service are dead. Anzac Day is not a day of martial glory, national chauvinism, boasting about victories or refighting old disputes. Indeed, its very name commemorates what was a military defeat, whether for Australians and New Zealanders in their sector, or the wider action, embracing British, French and Indian troops engaged in a foolish and misconceived campaign in the Dardanelles.

For participants it is a sombre occasion at which old mates, comradeship and sacrifice are commemorated, and the horror and the suffering of war is recalled, the nation rededicating itself to the hope that no occasion will arise where it will occur again. In recent times, as Australians have recognised and embraced the participation of those whose service was to other nations, it has also acquired some character of being a solemn ceremony for all war, for all participants, and for all victims.

This has not reduced the special tribute for our own. Nor does it reflect any desire that vital Australian interests or freedoms should be surrendered just so as to achieve a phoney peace. But it recognises that many of our old bitter enemies are now our friends, and that some of the differences over which we fought no longer exist. It is also a reflection of an understanding of the horrors of a century of modern war, and the damage it has caused to all, even when it has been justified.

When most Australians think of war, they think particularly of World War I and II. That is natural enough, even as we also honour more than 100,000 men and women marching today who gave service in Korea, Malaysia, Vietnam, many peace-keeping operations around the world, and in Iraq and Afghanistan. But their efforts, however meritorious, did not involve the whole nation in the sense that the world wars did. In the first, more than one in every 10 Australian men served and fought abroad; of these, about one in six was killed and another two in six wounded. In the second, more than a million Australians were in uniform, and much of the nation was mobilised in programs to support their effort. That was far closer to total war, and so much more a part of the national consciousness than our involvements since, because there was scarcely a family unaffected one way or another. A survivor marching today would be at least in his or her late 80s. Even our Vietnam vets (from 75,000 who served), the next largest contingent, are now at least in their late 50s. Most Australians have no direct experience of war. This owes much to these seniors. There are other, mostly younger Australians whose very citizenship arises from the fact that they were refugees from war and conflict elsewhere. This is a special reason to honour and respect those things which made Australia a refuge, a place where they could now be safe and free. For all these reasons, crowds increase each year, even as the ranks of marchers thin, and the recollection of the dawn of a day now 94 years ago maintains a special place in the national consciousness, among the young as intensely as among those with their own personal memories.