As a proud Australian, as the daughter of a veteran, and as Australia’s Governor-General and Commander-in-Chief, it is an honour to be here to commemorate the valour, service and sacrifice of all involved in Bomber Command.

It is especially poignant to be gathering in this year, when we mark the 80th anniversary of the end of the Second World War.

On Anzac Day of this year, I stood at dawn at Anzac Cove with thousands of people from Australia, New Zealand, the United Kingdom, and Türkiye, among other nations.

We were there to remember events of over a century ago to commemorate 110 years since those fateful Anzac landings.

For some, to honour their own.

For others, even those with no direct family links, to pay respect to the countless number of people who answered the call of their country to serve, to fight and – tragically for many – to die.

It was a powerful, meaningful and profoundly moving ceremony.

In my remarks on Anzac Day, I reflected on our commemoration of the Anzacs because they were exceptional in their remarkable acts of valour.

And because they were everyday people – even just like us – in their humanity.

Among them, was the quiet thoughtful mate, the hard worker, the loner, the larrikin and so many of the characters we all recognise today. 

And so many of them were so very young.

So, too, with those who served in Bomber Command.

These Australians, the brothers, cousins, knockabout mates and countrymen carried with them the hope, humour, energy and certainty of youth, and a deeply felt sense of duty to their country.

And they were of course joined by many women who were active in Bomber Command through the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force across a range of roles involving transport, munitions and air traffic control.

They knew then, more so than their forebears who landed at Anzac Cove, of the horror and danger of war.

 
Still they went.

Still they served.

And still they suffered disproportionately.

Of the 10,000 Australians flying with Bomber Command, 3500 died in the air.

Gordon Goodwin survived 23 Pathfinder missions and 65 missions over enemy territory with Bomber Command.

His son, Paul Goodwin, recalled his father saying,
“to survive you had to surrender all hope."

Standing with you today, in the beauty and serenity of this Sculpture Garden, beside this eloquent memorial, and celebrating the peace in which we live, it is almost impossible to imagine surrendering the hope and optimism that is so much a part of modern Australia.

We give thanks for the courage and sacrifice of Bomber Command, which gave us the gifts of peace and hope we cherish today. 

In remembering those who served, I also think of their families back home.

Those who lived with the uncertainty, helplessness and worry of not knowing how, when or from where news would come.

And those whose lives were changed utterly through the sorrow of loss, or the care of lifelong injury.

After the death of her son, Wing Commander Keith Douglas, his mother wrote, 
“You will understand just how much I am longing to have his small personal things … even though I know it is going to be a heart-breaking experience when they do come to hand.”

Her longing was the experience of all who lost their husbands, sons, brothers and mates, and yearned for some tangible link to their memories.

Today we remember and honour the individuals – those lost, those who returned, and their families – and the legacy of all those that served with Bomber Command.

That legacy includes, as we will hear shortly, humanitarian missions to drop food to the starving population of the Netherlands.

 
A mission that was a forerunner of the continuous service of Australian Defence Force personnel on peacekeeping and humanitarian missions in every year since 1947. 

The legacy of all those who served in Bomber Command has been inherited by generations since and is upheld by our modern ADF and the aviators of today’s Royal Australian Air Force. 

Aviators like my Royal Australian Air Force Aide-de-Camp Flight Lieutenant Jamie Thanjan, who I am proud to have at my side today. 

In concluding, I return to the words shared with me by one young Australian, 
‘… commemoration can inspire Australia’s potential to be brave and extraordinary …’ 

We commemorate to remember and honour, and to look forward. 

What happened 80 years ago is a constant call, not to arms, but to peace. 

And that is why we will remember them.

Lest we forget.