ANZAC Day 2026: Remembering Our Own on the Northern Beaches

Each year on April 25, we pause.

We pause not just for history, but for people — for the young men and women who once walked our streets, swam in our waters, stood on our wharves, and left for a world far beyond the shores of home.

This ANZAC Day, we remember our own.

Before the uniforms, before the telegrams, before the silence that followed — they were locals.

They were boys and girls diving from the Harbour Pool.
Friends gathering along the Corso.
Sons and daughters farewelled at the Wharf.

They lived ordinary lives in an extraordinary place — a place that still carries their memory.

From the Northern Beaches, many answered the call.
Some with excitement.
Some with quiet resolve.
And some never imagining they would not return.

Their journeys often began where so many still begin today — at the water’s edge.

The Wharf was more than a gateway.

It was a place of goodbye.

Families stood watching as ferries pulled away, carrying their loved ones toward the unknown. Letters would follow. News would come slowly. And for many, the final word arrived in the form of a telegram.

The same harbour that sparkles today once carried the weight of uncertainty, hope, and fear.

War did not just happen overseas.

It changed life here.

Beaches once filled with summer crowds were lined with barbed wire.
Anti-tank traps stood where children once played.
Ferries crossed the Heads in darkness.
Windows were blacked out with newspaper.
Curfews were imposed.

Soldiers passed through — some with homes to return to, others without.
Strangers opened their doors. Churches offered shelter.
Quiet acts of kindness became part of daily life.

And through it all, the community endured.

And still, they waited.

They waited at the Wharf.
They waited at the door.
They waited for letters — for news — for footsteps that might one day return.

Some did.

And some did not.

For those families, the waiting never truly ended.

Today, across the Northern Beaches, we gather again.

At dawn services.
Along the coastline.
In quiet reflection.

We stand in the same places they once stood.

You can still walk the Corso.
You can still stand at the Wharf.
You can still look out across the harbour and imagine that moment of departure.

The connection between past and present is not distant.

It is here.

ANZAC Day is not about glorifying war.

It is about remembering people.

It is about acknowledging sacrifice — not just in battle, but in the lives interrupted, the families changed, and the communities shaped by loss.

For Lost Manly, this remembrance is deeply personal.

Because history is not just something we study — it is something we carry.

This is a story of place, of friendship, and of loss — and a way to ensure that those who left from here are never forgotten.

Lest we forget.

For me, this story did not end there.

Introducing One of Their Own

As part of this reflection, I’ve been working on a deeply personal project — a book titled One of Their Own.

At its heart is the story of a young man from Manly, who left for war and never returned.

But this is not just his story.

It is the story of those who waited.

A fiancée who held onto hope.
A mother who grieved in silence.
A father who carried quiet strength.
Sisters whose lives continued in a world forever changed.

And beyond one family, it is a story shared across the Northern Beaches — of families who waited, who watched, who lived with uncertainty… and for some, the joy of welcome home, and for others, the weight of loss that never truly left.

Built from letters, journals, and historical records, One of Their Own is a story grounded in this place — and in the lives that were shaped here during the war.

Pre-orders are now open for those who would like to support the project and be part of bringing this story to life.

👉 Reserve your copy of One of Their Own and be part of bringing this story to life.