“We do not glory in war, but we do glory in truth, liberty, and justice.
Rev. Ellis Thomas
Anzac Day, Queanbeyan, 1929.
When the towering column of polished volcanic stone was revealed on December 15, 100 years ago, it was almost one-of-a-kind in the nation.
In 1923, a decade after the declaration of Canberra as the national capital, its almost century-old neighbour Queanbeyan claimed a population of 2,632.
The town’s new war memorial, funded through the collective efforts of its community, was to bear testament to the 524 locals who gave of themselves, including ultimately 66 who died, in the catastrophic cauldron of World War I.
That significant summer Saturday occasion, with the Acting Prime Minister, leader of the Country Party and returned serviceman, Dr Earle (middle name, Christmas) Page performing the honours, also marked the birth of another local icon.
Dawn Calthorpe’s arrival was acknowledged by her proud dad, Harry, to the large crowd gathered round their hometown’s latest centrepiece and which included his business partner, W.G. Woodger, Secretary of the organising Committee. The duo would make it into the history books as the first agents to market land leases in Canberra from 1924.
In celebrating her own centenary, Dawn shared with me she has fond memories of watching the wider area evolve around the “valuable and beautiful” addition that initially stood alone at the very top of the regional centre’s civic heart.
Known from its inception as the Queanbeyan and District Soldiers’ Memorial, as country town monuments go, at 36 feet high, it’s an impressive one.
It was among the earliest to be erected, just five years on from the official conclusion of the scarring conflict (the first, a simple granite obelisk, was in Adelaide in September, 1915).
Given their various incarnations - from statues to honour rolls, parks to halls - estimates suggest there’s one for approximately every 40 Australians who died (more than 62,000 fatalities in total).
Though each is unique in their own form of commemoration, many of the monuments bear similar designs: one of the most familiar, the lone Digger atop a plinth, often with head bowed, others looking with hope towards the rising sun.
Some of the notably distinctive include the 243km Great Ocean Road built by returned soldiers and referred to as “the world’s largest war memorial”, while Berridale in the Snowy Mountains features a relatively rare crucified Christ, unique for the feet being side-by-side rather than crossed.
It was the grieving townsfolk who decided - and paid for - their own memorialisations.
There was much debate among Queanbeyanites about how best to offer tribute: a hospital wing, an agricultural hall, perhaps even “swimming baths”? (There’d similarly be discussions following World War II, a swimming pool eventually agreed upon, opened in 1966).
The appointed Committee wanted to “make it something really worthy of the town and district … and in deference to the wishes of the mothers and next-of-kin”.
The elaborateness and scale of memorials also offered an indication of local prosperity. In Queanbeyan's case, the almost 1,000 pound cost (more than $90,000 in today’s terms) confirmation of its position at the turn of the 20th century as “the wealthiest district in the colony”.
Fundraising efforts included a “monster procession, sports meeting in the park, and a big concert” as well as a fancy dress carnival, declared “one of the biggest days Queanbeyan has known”.
In a moment of much anticipation and another first for the town, the foundation stone was laid on April 14, 1923, by Governor-General Lord Henry Forster, who’d himself lost two sons to the war.
Thereafter, on the solitary site selected for its prominent position (now a “memorial precinct”) - and another year before it would also host the first purpose-built Council Chambers - there arose “one of the finest of its kind in the State”.
Column-style memorials are said to represent honour. In Australia most of a similar nature are topped with statues, globes or orbs - the symbolisation of the Empire.
But here Queanbeyan’s differs again.
Although there doesn’t appear to be anything on record to confirm it, the town’s memorial may have been modelled on the first ever war monument in the country: that to the 99th Regiment in Hobart. Erected in 1850 by the British serving in Australia, it commemorates 24 soldiers killed in the New Zealand Maori Wars.
Designed by future Tasmanian Colonial Architect Alexander Dawson, it too, is a very tall pillar raised on a large pedestal with an unadorned platform at its top.
And it’s that finishing touch - or lack of it - that’s also caused some consternation on the passage of the ages.
Dawn Calthorpe (Waterhouse) is one of the many people who have asked me about our regional version’s “unfinished” appearance and if anything was intended to sit upon it. While others, such as those at Cronulla, Manly and Burra in South Australia do have features at their peak, for Queanbeyan it seems simple elegance was always the intention.
In the end, whether grand or intimate, in recognising there was no pocket of our nation left untouched, each acts as a personalised marker to memories and patriotism, often serving as substitute graves, and an acknowledgement of the sacrifice and tragedy of war.
And 100 years on, these poignant reminders of “lest we forget” remain timeless.
"The mothers of the fallen then placed upon the monument floral tokens of memory of their dead heroes.
There were tears in their eyes but they bore themselves bravely as they knew their sons had done in the great cause, and it was with pride they displayed the official badges issued to them as a recognition from the King of the heroic services rendered by their boys."