Anzac Day Dawn Service of Remembrance 2025

Good morning, Queenslanders, and all former and current servicemen and women. I begin by acknowledging the Original Custodians of the lands around Brisbane, the Turrbal and Jagera people, pay my respects to Elders past, present, and to all First Nations people.

In the quiet solitude of dawn, we stand together across our state and country, and at significant locations across the seas, to show our respect for those in our defence forces who have served our nation with courage and dedication, in order that we may live in safety and harmony.

For a short while, we leave behind our busy contemporary lives, so we can turn our minds to the past—to a time when events far from here were to have a devastating, yet transformative effect on our people.

Today, one hundred and ten years ago, Australian and New Zealand soldiers landed on the rugged beaches at Gallipoli, Türkiye—a place then remote and largely unknown to those at home.

This was to be the first major combat experience for our newly formed national armed forces.

Yet, even as the Gallipoli campaign itself failed; the bravery, determination, endurance and heart shown by those original Anzacs was taken up as an ideal that strengthened the resolve of those still fighting, as well as those faced with the awful task of tending to the thousands of sick, injured and dying.

In 1916, the number of casualties at Gallipoli was eclipsed by the horrors brought by trench warfare on the Western Front.

In France, the 24-hour-long battle at Fromelles, and the brutal six weeks at Pozières, tragically took more Australian lives than during the entire eight months at Gallipoli.

Conditions in the trenches were muddy, cramped, and unsanitary, with threats from diseases, and the ever-present dangers of rapid-fire artillery, shelling, snipers and toxic gas, causing destructive, lasting physical, and insidious psychological damage.

The celebrated official war correspondent and historian, Charles Bean would go on to write that Pozières was “more densely sown with Australian sacrifice than any other place on earth.”

By War’s end, over 60,000 of our countrymen and women had died and 156,000 had been wounded, gassed or captured.

There was not a family or community untouched by the unbearable sadness of loss.

Our Federation had been forced to grow up quickly, but it was the unity of fellowship, and deep trust in the unquenchable spirit of Australians to face and overcome challenges, that was to become embedded into how we see ourselves as a nation today.

It has now been over a century since the guns on the Western Front fell silent.

The last Gallipoli Anzac—Private Alec Campbell—died in 2002, and with the passing now of all those who served in World War 1, we have long lost our tangible connection with this time.

But, what was forged at Gallipoli and throughout World War 1, was then replicated through the actions of servicemen and women on the battlefields and in the prison-camps of World War 2; in Korea, Vietnam, and in all other campaigns and missions undertaken since—in the quest for attaining and preserving peace and stability.

Gallipoli was the starting point in a strong, invisible chain that has survived the years.  

Just as we measure time in seconds, minutes, hours, days—as we move ever forwards—the past grounds us, so we may continue to learn more about ourselves and how we want to be in the world.

We carry this understanding close to our hearts, so that we may fully appreciate the efforts being made today, to ensure our protection and security.

This legacy teaches us humility and dignity.

We honour Anzac Day not to glorify war, but to recognise the immense preciousness of peace.

Over these 110 years, our nation has grown up alongside our own tradition.

We pay tribute to veterans of all wars, whose contributions are integral to the sentiment and expression of Anzac Day.

Now, we continue to explore, document and acknowledge the contributions of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people who have served in every conflict since Federation, even before they were legally able to enlist.

We share the stories of the many thousands of nurses who have tended to the sick and injured with care and compassion, in every conflict in which Australia has committed military personnel, and we credit them with helping to forge pathways to ensure women can pursue diverse careers in our army, navy and air force.

We recognise the positive impact of peacekeepers, who have worked in dangerous operations far from home, and who have witnessed brutality and suffering.

And as Australia has welcomed the richness and diversity brought by multiculturalism, we honour those from all ethnic and religious backgrounds who have pledged to serve our country.

In acknowledging these and other milestones in our nation’s development—and the contributions of every individual who has shaped our country into the 21st century—we have a responsibility to carry our traditions with integrity.

Those first Anzacs did not seek fame.

Their involvement came from a promise to serve.

Making sense of war, relied on sharing with others who had been through similar experiences.

Queensland’s last World War 1 veteran was Corporal Edward David Smout.

In 2002, two years before he passed away, aged 106, Ted said: “…you never talk about [war] cause there’s nobody to talk to about it…all the diggers are dead and anyone else wouldn’t understand...there’s no way you could convey to the ordinary civilians the horrors that happened in the war...but for mateship, I wouldn’t have survived.”

But Ted also went on to say that he thought it was important for younger generations to remember Gallipoli, and its wider meaning, within the history of Australia, because “it’s their heritage, a sacrifice made then—they’ve got their freedom today as a result of it.”

This morning, we honour our past, but it is through our present that we continue to build on a tradition that has the power to unite us and keep us strong, in the face of an uncertain future.

This morning the Eternal Flame shines in the stillness of dawn, and with immense gratitude and appreciation, we bow our heads to honour those whose service and sacrifice ensures that the way of life we value so very greatly, is protected.

I conclude by quoting the final lines of the celebrated poem For the Fallen by Laurence Binyon. These words remind us of our shared responsibility to sustain this precious legacy.

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust, 
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain; 
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness, 
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Lest We Forget.