Anzac Day, like Australia day, is one of the two only ‘patriotic’ commemorations/celebrations that Australians are allowed in the cosmopolitan globalist model of society.

But in the past two years, ‘allowed’ is the operative word. COVID-19, which, like 911, provided governments with an excuse to exercise powers that in other times it would not get away with, has used the pandemic to cull the numbers of patriotic Australians showing their respect, not just for servicemen and women whose legacy they remember, but for our national history.

Anzac Day, if anything, is that obstinate pillar that many corrupted by the anti-Anglo-Celtic-European bigotry of the Left would tear down. As it stands, it has been under attack, just like Australia Day, with criticisms of its martial character, its non-inclusivity, and some argue its irrelevance. Is this what those fallen fought for? What did they fight for?

Australia has a regrettable history of participating in wars that we had no business fighting. Take WW1 for instance, a clash of empires; a terrible war the engulfed the world and which was sparked by the assassination of an obscure member of the European aristocracy.

In reality, the war was about curtailing Germany’s expansion — preventing it from growing to the stature that Great Britain enjoyed. It was series of pacts enacted in a macabre honouring of loyalty chits. Germany had to come to the aid of Austria, France had its allied duties, and the English were dutybound to buy into the conflict also. But Australia?

Australia marched proudly into that war, coming to the aid of the motherland. It was the act of a dutiful child, but also, the demonstration that a dutiful child had grown into a proud, independent adult.

Australia borrowed heavily to make its father, England, proud. That debt would hang over the nation’s head following the war, but we would pay in other ways. The price was a generation of men devastated, and the damage was wrought on their families. The children of these broken men suffered, the wives suffered, and the pain was intergenerational.

Conscription, which was heavily favoured at the beginning of the war when wide-eyed young Australian men answered the call of King & Country, was soon opposed when the realities of the war returned home in boxes, on crutches, and with a dead look in the eyes.

Australia was under no direct threat in Europe, and the losses at Gallipoli, where Australians were used in a military gamble, could only compound that sense of needless sacrifice. It was not Australia they fought for, after all.

The unjust penalties inflicted on Germany following that war would lead to the second great war. England seconded Australians once again to come to the defence of England in a war that, once more, was none of Australia’s making, was far from our shores, and in which, yet again, we played the part of the obliging chump.

It was not until the Japanese attempted to invade our country that the first and only true Australian conflict arose, the great patriotic war against Japan. The deeds of those brave young lads who helped secure the freedom of this nation must never be forgotten, the ‘chocolate soldiers’ as they were dishonourably and erroneously labelled, showed such pluck they put our rescuers ‘the Yanks’ to shame as they fought the dreaded nip in the steamy jungles of Papua New Guinea.

What were those heroic young Australian men fighting for? For Australia. And what was Australia, what was the land, its people and culture that they endured such hardship, and fought such insurmountable odds to protect? Australians. All their sacrifice was bulldozed twenty years later by the time the United Nations had been established (Australia was one of its founders) and the conservative Australian government hitched our collective wagon to the new bright star of America.

The White Australia Policy, a policy that wasn’t about bigotry, or xenophobia, but about preservation and insurance, was torn down. Over the next decades, the doors were swung open for the capitalist and internationalists from both sides of politics, and in the lifetimes of these honoured men, the country they’d offered their lives to protect was pulled like a rug out from under their feet – their deeds hollowly honoured once a year on April 25, but their sacrifice desecrated with the arrival of the coloured hordes.

Had they been given a glimpse into the future and shown what would become of Australia, would they have bothered to load their rifles? Would they have endured the heat, the monsoon rains, the mosquitoes, malaria, and all the hazards of the jungle the Japanese themselves notwithstanding? What’s the difference between being invaded and having your leaders throw open the gates to the invaders in peacetime? The result is about the same.

Next up, we went to Korea, and the major foreign conflict we joined after that was America’s imperial adventure on behalf of capitalism into Vietnam, to prop up the corrupt South Vietnamese government against what was, to be frank, nationalist forces.

Next up we found ourselves, once again courtesy of honouring a bogus commitment to supporting America, in the criminal escapades in Iraq and the disaster of the graveyard of empires, Afghanistan, which we’re now pulling out of. The latter has exposed or is about to expose, just how disposable our ‘honoured’ servicemen are, as the human cost of that Zionist adventure is told in the suicides of ex-servicemen and the shaming of our SAS by leftist scum in the scurrilous media. The betrayal by the top brass who are so politicised as to have alienated them completely from the very martial codes that mark the soldierly.

All for the sake of preserving America’s prestige. And what of that prestige, where is it now? Burning in looted cities. Disgraced in the show trial of a Minneapolis police officer sacrificed to the braying mob of anti-American anarchists. America is on the brink because of its history but mainly because of race. The black man has never more been shown to be incompatible in a society established by Whites. The price of maintaining that impossible balance is the very fabric of society itself. White Americans have become prisoners in their own country, held hostage to the very concepts they tried to impose upon Vietnam and elsewhere.

Anzac Day is therefore entirely about Australian identity and the powers that be know this. No matter how much they’ll try to make it about indigenous soldiers ‘who fought bravely and were betrayed’ or migrants who wore the slouched hat, it is about us. When it is gone, when it is finally replaced by ‘International Peace Day’ or ‘Indigenous Day’ or ‘Diversity Day’ we will know that this country is Australia in name only.

Lest we forget.