ANZAC DAY - Remembrance

ANZAC Day (Australian New Zealand Army Corp), is for me, the most emotionally moving of all days on our calendar. It seems that each year the support for our "old diggers" grows stronger and stronger, and the involvement of the young and old taking part in the memorial services in small towns and large cities on this day throughout New Zealand and Australia can't help but make us proud, and for some (moi) bring a tear to the eye, 'specially when "Waltzing Matilda" is played, doesn't matter if it is via the bagpipes, brass band, guitar, piano or whatever - it still gets to me, always did, always will!!!. Today, like most other years we are watching the Dawn Services at Gallipoli and Villers Bretonneux (which we visited in 2003) being relayed on the ABC. Last ANZAC Day we were in the town of Bright, in the Victorian high country, cousins' Susan and Nalda, Frank and I rose very early, it was a cool morning (very cool), and attended the town's Dawn Service - so very stirring - The Last Post.

Frank and I then went back for the 11 am Service and March. The whole town was there and taking part - very impressive to see the young being so involved in the march and ceremony, Scouts, Cubs, Brownies, Girl Guides, different Schools and organisations..

I found a poem by Bernard Sprunt, which says it all. The photos I took in Bright last Anzac Day.

ANZAC DAY

Each ANZAC Day is a reaffirmation,

Of this nation's sorrow and pride,

As with gratitude it remembers and honours,

Its sons who fought, and the many who died.

In every corner of this wide country,

Frail old men, many bent with pain,

Are carefully polishing their medals,

Before marching with old comrades again.

Each year the roll-call is shorter,

Some faces seen last year won't be there,

Their Epitaph, the verdict that "they were good blokes",

And the sadness of their passing all Australia will share.

By battalions, ships and squadrons they muster,

Though just fragments of war time strength remain,

Instead of rifles, walking sticks are now carried,

As they dress ranks, by the right, once again.

As the pipes skirl, and the bands strike up,

Backs straighten and white heads are held high,

And the crowds lining the route wave and cheer,

As they watch the old warriors march by.

Though passing years have sapped their strength,

And they have to struggle to maintain the pace,

In their minds they are briefly reliving their youth,

Where there was no challenge which they could not face.

ANZAC Day mirrors the "soul" of our nation,

And shows the price it was willing to pay,

To secure our freedom, knowing if it was lost,

That "soul" would sicken, and would wither away.