the Armistice Ninetieth Anniversary
Penola War Memorial Hospital

The Hon. JENNIFER GARDINER [6.16 p.m.]: It was, of course, at 11.00 a.m. on 11 November 1918 that the guns of the Western Front fell silent after more than four years of continuous warfare, and on each anniversary of the Armistice Australians remember all those who fought and died for our country in war and armed conflicts. As we approach the ninetieth anniversary of the end of World War I, it is pleasing to note the increased interest in reflecting upon and analysing the role that Australians and New Zealanders played in that war and, in particular, the role that the ANZACs played in the battles on the Western Front.

Just as on Anzac Day this year, when there was the first dawn service at the Australian National Memorial at Villers-Bretonneux, on 11 November this year, in addition to Remembrance Day services in many other places, a service will be held at that sacred place. Before that, there will be a re-dedication of the memorial to the Australian Corps at Le Hamel, the theatre in which the Australian Corps successfully employed tactics applied by General Sir John Monash, tactics that foreshadowed those used in the larger offensives that began in August 1918 and led to the Allied victory. More than 46,000 of the 60,000 Australians who died in the First World War lost their lives on the battlefields of the Western Front in France and Belgium. That is, perhaps, the most awful statistic in our nation's history.

Recently, I was honoured to attend the fiftieth anniversary of the opening of a local RSL hall—a birthday party for a hall, and a grand party it was! It was also the club's eighty-fifth annual dinner. My grandfather, Bill Clayfield, MBE, returned from the Western Front. That he survived the awful and ferocious battles in which the 48th Battalion fought must have been a miracle. After the Armistice, General Birdwood sent a message to the 48th Battalion. He said of the battalion and the AIF:

This long and close association with them has enabled me to appraise at its true worth their loyal comradeship—which in their successful military career has been no less conspicuous than their indomitable valour and determination. I feel I can say that at the root of many individual and collective acts of bravery is their unwritten law never to leave a mate who is in a tight place.

Bill Clayfield became the President of the RSL and with his friend Eric Balnaves, and others who had come home to the South East of South Australia to their communities of Penola and Coonawarra, he set out to be constructive in the local remembrance of the war. They wanted to build a modern RSL hall that would be an adornment, architecturally and socially, to the beautiful town of Penola. They wanted it to be a place in which the whole community could gather, as well as a special place where returned soldiers could be together.

But first they had another objective. The town desperately needed a new hospital. So it was that the RSL committee set about raising funds with which to build a hospital that was to be the district's War Memorial; a war memorial that catered to the greatest needs of residents of any community—to be cared for in a modern, well-staffed and well-equipped, well-run, community-based hospital when they or their loved ones fell ill or were injured, or their babies were due.

The RSL committee organised all manner of events, from rodeos to raffles, and steadily added to the bank balance. It was slow, hard work. Some were growing weary of the task and thought it an impossible one. On one occasion they met at the Mechanics Institute and someone moved that the funds be held in the bank account and left to gather interest. After the meeting, my grandfather said to the secretary, "Did you note down that motion?" The secretary said, "No". My grandfather said, "That's good, neither did I. I'm going to Adelaide to get the rest of the money." He made one of his trips to Adelaide to see the South Australian Minister for Health, successfully lobbying him for the remaining funds and the Penola War Memorial Hospital was built. Bill Clayfield was the inaugural chairman of the hospital board and developing that hospital became one of the most important parts of his life's work.

The Rann Labor Government threatened the viability of small hospitals like Penola. Rural communities rose up against the Government and it backed off. Once the hospital project was brought to fruition, the sub-branch then turned its attention to building the RSL hall. Yet again, the provision of local health services was at the forefront of the project. The district did not have a dentist, so part of the new RSL hall was given over to serve as consulting rooms for two visiting dentists. Today, the hall is a warm and friendly place: full of memorabilia and at different moments it is pervaded by a wonderful mixture of laughter, camaraderie and total reverence for those who served in war, those who returned and those who did not. In keeping with the changing times, today it is the venue for the usual RSL activities as well as hosting events such as tai chi classes. To this day, catering to the health and wellbeing of the local population is at the forefront of the office bearers and the ladies' auxiliary. At the door of the hall are these framed words from my grandfather's opening speech:

"He concluded by saying he hoped when the club was opened, members would continue to work for the betterment of others. 'We know no class, we know no creed, we are proud of our country'."

The concluding lines of the official history of that battalion include:

Every fortnight saw small drafts of men trudge off without formality to join the train that should carry them to the French coast. Away they went, to be once more miners or farmers or clerks or mere drifters on the sea of life

Ninety years later, of those who returned and those who did not, and those who served in the years since, we say, "We will remember them."