On Israel's northern coast, near the border with the Lebanon, a plaque commemorates New Zealand Army engineers who carved a railway through the arid landscape during World War I. Today, not all that far away, a group of their successors is, again, on a war footing.
Army engineers involved in the reconstruction of Iraq have found themselves near the thick of hostilities after co-ordinated car-bomb attacks in Basra. Their situation delivers a particular relevance, and poignancy, to tomorrow's Anzac Day commemoration ceremonies.
This year's anniversary falls 90 years after the start of the worldwide conflict that was soon to yield the ill-fated Gallipoli campaign. Then, as now, the world was in turmoil, even if few in 1914 recognised that so little would be needed to pit nation against nation in war. An arms race and bickering over colonial aspirations had produced a climate of tension; only an act of terrorism in Sarajevo was needed to render it incendiary.
The resultant conflagration changed the face of the world as few wars have done. Swept away were the Austro-Hungarian Hapsburg empire and, most pertinently, the Ottoman empire. Those New Zealand Army engineers of World War I were part of this country's significant contribution in Palestine to the downfall of the last great Islamic dominion.
Before the war, Turkey's influence, even though reduced from its 16th-century power and grandeur, held sway throughout the Middle East. Upon being vanquished, its territory was divided among the victors, with Britain and France claiming the most important spheres of influence.
Osama bin Laden has a particular view of history. He attributes most of the Middle East's woes to the meddling by European powers that followed Turkey's defeat. His objective is to recreate a pan-Islamic empire, one more powerful than even that of the Ottomans in their pomp. He has pulled no punches in stating that aim.
Effectively, he declared war several years ago. Now, a group of today's Army engineers has been drawn into his maniacal ambition. The United States blames al Qaeda for the Basra bombings. Given the method and appalling callousness of the attacks, there seems little reason to doubt it.
Bin Laden has thrown another shadow over Anzac Day. Smaller crowds than usual of New Zealanders and Australians will make the pilgrimage to Gallipoli this year, following Government advice that all non-essential travel to Turkey should be deferred because of terrorist activity.
Thousands, however, will still be at Anzac Cove for the dawn service. On one level, this is risky, perhaps even foolhardy. But on another it demonstrates a determination not to be intimidated by terrorism.
This willingness to confront a threat should be in our minds this Anzac Day, as should the need to be prepared to meet anything that terrorism might conjure. But New Zealand can lay no claim to that. The Government has emasculated the Defence Force, so much so that it is equipped now to do no more than peacekeeping duty. An increasingly dangerous world means this approach, untenable at the best of times, can no longer be contemplated.
Our engineers in Basra are caught in a situation not of their design. But that is the reality of the world of terrorism - the clearly demarcated battle-lines of World War I exist no more. And as much as the United States blundered by invading Iraq, providing Muslim fundamentalism with a shot in the arm in the process, there can be no doubt about the reality of the terrorist threat.
Thus, as we remember those who fell in past wars, we need also to recognise their willingness to confront threats to their country. And we need to be prepared to honour their sacrifice by replicating their steadfastness and resolution.
Herald Feature: Anzac Day
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