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My grandfather married a lady he met in a munitions factory in the Midlands of England. All of my grandmother’s brothers—there were seven of them—were killed, from the Boer War through to fighting the communists and in the Crimea. We knew that the second to last one starved to death. The final one was brought back and made an air-raid warden. He too died, after a direct hit. It goes to show their involvement and how lucky we are to live in the days that we do. My other grandmother’s two brothers both fought. One fought with the Light Horse in Palestine. The other one was in the Air Force. Many of those people carried the scars for the rest of their lives. It was a well-known fact that people who went away to war never came back quite the same. Now in every town and in every hall stands an honour roll showing the names of families who have long been forgotten by schoolchildren. Many will not have the benefit of a descendant remembering them in an adjournment speech, so it is very important that we remember them here tonight. Australia’s population was approximately five million, yet 53,993 people were killed, 137,013 were wounded, 16,496 were gassed, there were 7,727 non-battle deaths and 109 died as prisoners of war. We acknowledge all those who have served, those who died, those who were maimed, those who were left widowed, those who were left orphaned, those who had their whole lives changed and those who left opportunities behind to serve their country, as people continue to do today. We acknowledge that, on their sacrifice, our nation—the nation we so proudly represent tonight here in this parliament—was born. We are blessed that, hopefully, our lot will not be as monumental as theirs. We are blessed that we can stay at home with our families, follow our careers and plan for our dreams. We have a duty to stop and appreciate the names on the memorials in every small town, school hall, large town monument or city monument. We acknowledge those who now continue on in our Defence Force, and we pray for their safety and their families’ peace. It is fitting that, with poppies in buttonholes, as we sit row on row in this chamber, we remember the significance of that gesture as seen through the eyes of John McRae, in his poem In Flanders Fields : In Flanders Fields the poppies blow Between the crosses row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields.