The Value of a Medal

Andrew Sharp, my late father-in-law, was an ordinary sort of bloke. He immigrated to New Zealand from Scotland with his family when he was about knee high to a grass hopper. His father, a veteran of both the Boer War and World War 1, worked in pubs around Auckland.

When WW2 broke out Andrew, like many young Kiwis and Aussies, reported for duty. He was shipped out to Egypt leaving his family and fiancée behind. While training in Egypt he was stabbed by a Nazi sympathiser when swimming during a recreation period. The perpetrator was never caught.

Andrew's service medals

 Andrew took part in the Italian campaign as a transport driver. One night this landed him and his mate in the shit. Their camp came under attack and the ammunition dump blew up. They dived into the first trench they came to and, you guessed it, it was the latrine.

After the war he returned to Auckland, married his fiancée Myrla, and fathered two daughters. He worked as a carpenter to provide for his family. Myrla died young while the younger of the two girls was still at school. He later remarried a widow and became father to her son.

Like most of us, he achieved neither fame nor fortune. He was an ordinary bloke who lived an ordinary life. An honest, hardworking bloke who provided for his family and contributed to the community he lived in. A real handy man, in retirement he did what he could to help those around him.

Today we see the end of the 2014 Winter Olympics. While Australia has won a few medals it has missed the valued gold for the first time in a while. Those medals cost the Australian public $10 million, which is considerably less than we paid for the medals won at the Summer Olympics. An Olympic medal, especially gold, or success at the elite level in any sport, can open the door to fame and fortune. Long after they retire successful Olympians and other elite level athletes continue to be feted, looked up to. They have, after all done their nation proud. They did it for Australia - didn't they?

I disagree. An athlete, in whatever sport, Olympic or otherwise, does it for the challenge, the enjoyment, for self. At best, they do it for the team. It may be the pursuit of excellence, but it is not service to the greater community. What do they contribute to other than to the coffers of advertisers and sponsors. Now I admit there are some, such as former Australian cricket captain Steve Waugh, who use their status as champion sports persons to support worthwhile causes. But,  I suspect, they are in the minority.

 

Andrew's 'old army mug', the beret of the
Scottish Regiment, and a reminder of his
Scottish heritage

Until it got too much for him Andrew marched  on ANZAC day with other ordinary blokes, all wearing their service medals. And when he got too old to march he continued to attend ANZAC services in the local RSA - the Kiwi equivalent to our RSL. There was nothing 'special' about his medals - no VC, MC or other award for bravery. Sleeping on top of a truck load of four gallon (20 litre) drums of petrol in a war zone and driving that truck to the front line was nothing outstanding. It was just the sort of thing that ordinary soldiers did.

Andrew saw action at the Battle of Monte Cassino. The last time he visited us in Sydney coincided with an ANZAC Day. A night or two before the day the ABC screened a documentary on the battle. Andrew asked if he could watch it, a request I was happy to agree to. In fact, I looked forward to watching it with him. Sometime into the program Andrew made another request, 'Would you mind turning it off?' Obviously it had triggered painful memories. I didn't pry.

Old athletes bask in the glory of their past achievements. Too many old soldiers live with the wounds, physical and psychological, of their past. It is not only the soldiers, for families often share the cost of their loved one's service.

There are many Andrews - ordinary men and women who have answered their nation's call, who have simply done their duty. There always have been and always will be.

Today's young warriors have seen service in Iraq, Afghanistan, as Peace Keepers, in disaster response and on Border Security, to name a few. And, like those who have come before, too many of them carry the scars of service - visible and invisible. Too many struggle to find the support they should receive because Governments have to manage budgets, and one way they do this is make cuts in the area of veterans’ affairs. Veterans frequently have to jump through hoops to get the benefits and entitlements they were promised. There aren't too many votes in the veteran community, and what  politician wants to be seen to cut funding to elite level sport. Such is the value of a medal.