South Australian Veteran to March Alone on Anzac Day, 80 Years After WWII’s End

South Australian Veteran to March Alone on Anzac Day, 80 Years After WWII’s End

ADELAIDE – Lyall Ellers, a 101-year-old World War II veteran, will step onto North Terrace this Anzac Day, April 25, 2025, to march alone in the dawn service, a solitary figure carrying the weight of history. Eighty years after Japan’s surrender on August 15, 1945, marked the end of the war he fought in, Ellers remains the last of his kind in South Australia’s commemorative march. His mates are gone, his brother lost before training even finished, but his resolve hasn’t wavered.

Ellers enlisted in the Royal Australian Air Force in 1942, barely 18, alongside his older brother Fred. The siblings dreamed of soaring through the skies, but war had other plans. Fred died in a training accident, a gut-punch that still lingers. Ellers pressed on, serving four years in tents, dodging crash landings, and staring down death in the Pacific theater. He doesn’t talk much about the chaos, but his eyes, sharp behind thick glasses, hint at memories that don’t fade.

This year’s march, part of Adelaide’s Anzac Day commemorations, will see thousands gather to honor the fallen and the living. But for Ellers, it’s a solo trek. “There’s no one left to march with me,” he said, voice steady but soft, in an interview ahead of the event. His comrades from the war—those who survived bullets and bombs—have succumbed to time. The Returned and Services League (RSL) in South Australia expects a crowd, with services kicking off at 6 a.m., but Ellers will walk his stretch of the route unaccompanied, a living relic of a fading era.

After the war, Ellers traded the roar of aircraft for the quiet precision of opal cutting. He spent decades coaxing beauty from rough stone, a craft that demands patience and a steady hand—qualities he honed in the crucible of conflict. Now, at 101, he moves slower, leans on a cane, but insists on marching. No wheelchair for him, not yet. The RSL offered support, but Ellers waved it off. “I’ll do it my way,” he said.

Anzac Day, gazetted under the Anzac Day Act 1995, marks the 1915 Gallipoli landing, where Australian and New Zealand troops first faced the fire of World War I. Today, it honors all who served, from the trenches to peacekeeping missions. In 2025, the day carries extra weight: it’s 110 years since Gallipoli and 80 since WWII’s end. South Australia’s government has pumped $132,000 into grants to mark the WWII milestone, funding projects to preserve stories like Ellers’. Applications opened in February 2024 and close June 30, aimed at schools, councils, and veteran groups.

The dawn service, held at the South Australian National War Memorial, will feature wreaths, the Last Post, and a minute’s silence. Ellers will march along North Terrace, past the cheering public, his medals pinned to a worn jacket. Organizers say the route’s unchanged from last year, starting at 9:30 a.m. after the dawn ceremony. The Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Commemorative Ceremony follows at 7:30 a.m., hosted by the ATSIVA, open to all.

Ellers doesn’t dwell on the pomp. For him, it’s about remembering Fred, his mates, and the life he carved out after the war. He’ll pause at the memorial, head bowed, then head home to his quiet Adelaide flat. The crowd will disperse, but Ellers’ steps will echo—a lone veteran, still marching.