“They shall grow not old,
As we that are left grow old,
Age shall not weary them,
Nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun,
And in the morning
We will remember them. Lest we Forget.”
Today, April 25th, is ANZAC Day here in Oz and New Zealand. The day where we remember those who fought for us at Gallipoli in World War I. We remember those who fell and those who made it home, more or less in one piece.
My paternal great grand father fought in this war, “The Great War”. He was only 16 years of age when he enlisted, lied to get in. Go away and see foreign shores, fun and adventure and a chance to fight for his country. Upon seeing the photographs of my Pa in his uniform, he looks all of 15. He spent his 18th birthday over there. Unfortunately, I do not know much more than this. I was only 5 years old when my Pa died of cancer. I do have fond memories of him, a frail, bald old man, a two inch diameter scar on the left side of his scalp where a piece of shrapnel had been removed. I was his first great grand child and so he adored me. I recall sitting on his lap, we played a game with little wooden pegs. I have no idea what it was, but I remember the little coloured pegs vividly.
The things you remember, huh?
It is sad when I think back on school and do not remember learning very much about World War I or II. I am sure it was in the curriculum but it would have been just something in passing. A shame that it is not spoken about more, that we forget what came before. Forget those who sacrificed their lives so that we can live the way that we do, with the *privileges* that we have. The freedom that we take for granted. True, we must not dwell on the past, but the past is what made us, our countries what we are today.
Only recently, speaking with a very sweet Master M, that I have learned of how the Australian troops helped the Dutch colonists in Netherlands East Indies during the Japanese invasion of Indonesia in World War II. It seems that we know so very little about what the Australian troops did, it seemed that they were everywhere; helping wherever help was needed.
Hmm anyway, just scattered thoughts.
I wish you well,
beast
Friday 25th April 2008
~~~~~~~~~
SONG OF WAR
Sing me once more
the old songs of war
that we marched to
- ran to, sang to…
with rifles slung, and joyous
along the lanes and byways
that summer we enlisted,
when we joined our chosen Corps.
Before the bloody war.
Sing to me once again
with the innocence of callow youth
fresh faced young warriors
who know not…
the sound of battle,
the screams of the wounded and dying,
the smell of stale sweat and blood
or the enveloping stench of death.
Sing to me Comrades. Sing!
Sing softly to me Comrades
of gardens of stone
in the foreign places
with names of those gallantly fallen…
far from home and hearth,
far from love, family and the familiar green fields of home…
in endless gardens of stone.
Not forgotten but forever immortal
in granite, in marble and bronze.
Their song is in granite and bronze.
©Copyright May 2005 by Mike Subritzky
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