CHECK AGAINST DELIVERY
Today we honour courage.
Today we honour sacrifice.
Today we honour compassion.
These are the noblest human values. These are the noblest Australian values.
These are the values that shine like a winter star, for this is a story which must be told and told and told again, because in the story of the Centaur we see the worst and best of humanity at work.
Today we honour all those who lost their lives on the Australian Hospital Ship Centaur and we honour those who survived, floating on rafts clinging to wreckage, praying for rescue.
We honour the families whose lives were torn apart by this cold, brutal, inhuman act of sinking a hospital ship, the families who then waited two-thirds of a century to discover the final resting place of their loved ones.
The images from the ocean floor that we saw a few short months ago when the wreck of the Centaur was discovered were a voyage through time - and the voyages of time: the ship's bell; the sprung frames of hospital beds; a lone soldier's boot; the vivid red of the hospital cross on the ship's hull, this cross, the Red Cross; the Australia slouch hat that sits motionless on the ocean bed alongside the wreck standing almost as a silent sentinel to the atrocities of war.
All of these things of the deep are silent, eloquent, permanent reminders of the violence meted upon the men and women of the Centaur just before dawn on that autumn day 67 years ago.
Let us be clear: sinking an unarmed hospital ship, clearly marked with the internationally recognised symbol of the Red Cross, is a violation of international law.
No ifs. No buts. No maybes.
But more than that - it is a complete violation of the most basic principles of human decency.
No ifs. No buts. No maybes.
The Centaur was a vessel of mercy and it was suck without mercy by a vessel of war, and its wreck will forever be a sepulchre for those 268 souls who perished, a memorial to the 75 merchant navy personnel, 193 Australian service men and women, doctors, nurses, orderlies, cooks and stewards.
Designated now as a war grave. Now protected ever more from intrusion. Forever now a sacred place. Forever now a reminder that the preservation of your freedom was purchased with the blood, the sweat and the tears of those who came before us.
Forever also a reminder of how close the war came to our own shores, to Australian shores to Queensland shores, because Centaur, while perhaps less known elsewhere in the nation, has always occupied a special place in the hearts of Queenslanders.
We felt as if our own home, barely 70 miles from where we are today, had been violated.
Today's service reminds us too of that thread of time that links the past to the present, for though the Centaur was lost 67 years ago, not until today has our nation been able to pay its respects formally to those who were lost and to share in the searing memories of those who survived.
Some of those survivors are still with us - survivors like Martin Pash, who is here with us today, who I had the honour to meet before the service, and Bob Westwood and Matty Morris, who are marking today privately.
But most are no longer with us.
People like Second Mate Richard Gordon Rippon, whose navigational skills were vindicated years later when his original calculations - made 40 minutes before the torpedo attack - steered David Mearns' search team to within one nautical mile of the Centaur's resting place.
People like Captain Richard Salt, who was about to retire but was persuaded to make one more trip - with the Centaur.
People like Sister Nell Savage, who symbolised the ANZAC spirit of resilience in adversity, ignoring her own injuries to care for other survivors and to boost flagging morale as they waited and waited and waited in the water and awarded the George Medal - recognising a woman who signed on to be a healer, not a hero.
Nothing now can change what happened in those brief, fateful moments 67 years ago, and nothing can replace the years of loss and uncertainty for friends and families, but my hope, and the hope of the nation, is that the discovery of the Centaur can bring peace of mind and the possibility of healing of souls.
You know now the final resting place of your loved ones after so many, many decades. That is why we became involved in the search.
Many of you sitting in this Cathedral today are thinking of a loved one - a parent or grandparent, an uncle or aunt, a friend or a mate. This service is a chance to remember them, and to honour them, and to acknowledge their service to Australia.
This is a day for the nation to honour them just as we do today here in this great Cathedral, so too do others across the nation with us, to write one final chapter in the Centaur's history because in this great Australian family, Centaur is part of us now, just as we are part of Centaur.
Her story is our nation's story.
Lest we forget.