Lest we forget

Hear Hear

Bushfix...Lest We Forget.
I know there are a few members here who have served this country in uniform & wish to keep their military service private...so be it.
I served in the 60's and 70's in the RAN, Vietnam conflict in progress, and would like to post the sailors "Last Post."

They have no grave but the cruel sea..
No flowers lay at their head..
Their tombestone is a rusting hulk..
Afast on the ocean bed..
They shall not grow 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.

Once again on Anzac day, I won't be marching with my RSL comrades, but I shall be out on our bush property in the Pilliga, enjoying what so many gave up their very young lives for...remembering in my own private way...and most of all...enjoying what we have.

Lest we forget.

Fred G. ex R.A.N. (and proud of it).

Thanks Guys,
On behalf of my serving and retired bretheren, we thank you.
It's our big day of the year. I'm lucky, I'm still here, where thousands of others paid the ultimate sacrifice for their beloved country. THEY are the heroes in my eyes.

Regards, Matt (AASM,ICM,DLSM,ADM) & 18+ years and still going!

This is a bit long, but anyway....................





This is beautiful and well worth keeping !















The Anzac on the Wall

I wanderer thru a country town 'cos I had time to spare,

And went into an antique shop to see what was in there.

Old Bikes and pumps and kero lamps, but hidden by it all,

A photo of a soldier boy - an Anzac on the Wall.



"The Anzac have a name?" I asked. The old man answered "No,.

The ones who could have told me mate, have passed on long ago.

The old man kept on talking and, according to his tale,

The photo was unwanted junk bought from a clearance sale.



"I asked around," the old man said, "but no one knows his face,

He's been on that wall twenty years, deserves a better place.

For some one must have loved him so, it seems a shame somehow."

I nodded in agreement and then said, "I'll take him now."



My nameless digger's photo, well it was a sorry sight

A cracked glass pane and a broken frame - I had to make it right

To prise the photo from its frame I took care just in case,

"Cause only sticky paper held the cardboard back in place.



I peeled away the faded screed and much to my surprise,

Two letters and a telegram appeared before my eyes

The first reveals my Anzac's name, and regiment of course

John Mathew Francis Stuart - of Australia 's own Light Horse.





This letter written from the front, my interest now was keen

This note was dated August seventh 1917

"Dear Mum, I'm at Khalasa Springs not far from the Red Sea

They say it's in the Bible - looks like Billabong to me.



"My Kathy wrote I'm in her prayers she's still my bride to be

I just cant wait to see you both you're all the world to me

And Mum you'll soon meet Bluey, last month they shipped him out

I told him to call on you when he's up and about."



"That bluey is a larrikin, and we all thought it funny

He lobbed a Turkish hand grenade into the Co's dunny.

I told you how he dragged me wounded in from no man's land

He stopped the bleeding closed the wound with only his bare hand."



"Then he copped it at the front from some stray shrapnel blast

It was my turn to drag him in and I thought he wouldn't last

He woke up in hospital, and nearly lost his mind

Cause out there on the battlefield he'd left one leg behind."



"He's been in a bad way mum, he knows he'll ride no more

Like me he loves a horse's back he was a champ before.

So Please Mum can you take him in, he's been like my brother

Raised in a Queensland orphanage he' s never known a mother."





But Struth, I miss Australia mum, and in my mind each day

I am a mountain cattleman on high plains far away

I'm mustering white-faced cattle, with no camel's hump in sight

And I waltz my Matilda by a campfire every night



I wonder who rides Billy, I heard the pub burnt down

I'll always love you and please say hooroo to all in town".

The second letter I could see was in a lady's hand

An answer to her soldier son there in a foreign land



Her copperplate was perfect, the pages neat and clean

It bore the date November 3rd 1917.

"T'was hard enough to lose your Dad, without you at the war

I'd hoped you would be home by now - each day I miss you more"



"Your Kathy calls around a lot since you have been away

To share with me her hopes and dreams about your wedding day

And Bluey has arrived - and what a godsend he has been

We talked and laughed for days about the things you've done and seen"



"He really is a comfort, and works hard around the farm,

I read the same hope in his eyes that you wont come to harm.

Mc Connell's kids rode Billy, but suddenly that changed

We had a violent lightning storm, and it was really strange."

"Last Wednesday just on midnight, not a single cloud in sight

It raged for several minutes, it gave us all a fright

It really spooked your Billy - and he screamed and bucked and reared

And then he rushed the sliprail fence, which by a foot he cleared"



"They brought him back next afternoon, but something's changed I fear

It's like the day you brought him home, for no one can get near

Remember when you caught him with his black and flowing mane?

Now Horse breakers fear the beast that only you can tame,"

"That's why we need you home son" - then the flow of ink went dry-

This letter was unfinished, and I couldn't work out why.

Until I started reading the letter number three

A yellow telegram delivered news of tragedy

Her son killed in action - oh - what pain that must have been

The Same date as her letter - 3rd November 17

This letter which was never sent, became then one of three

She sealed behind the photo's face - the face she longed to see.



And John's home town's old timers -children when he went to war

Would say no greater cattleman had left the town before.

They knew his widowed mother well - and with respect did tell

How when she lost her only boy she lost her mind as well.

She could not face the awful truth, to strangers she would speak

"My Johnny's at the war you know , he's coming home next week."

They all remembered Bluey he stayed on to the end

A younger man with wooden leg became her closest friend



And he would go and find her when she wandered old and weak

And always softly say "yes dear - John will be home next week."

Then when she died Bluey moved on, to Queensland some did say

I tried to find out where he went, but dont know to this day

And Kathy never wed - a lonely spinster some found odd

She wouldn't set foot in a church - she'd turned her back on God

John's mother left no will I learned on my detective trail

This explains my photo's journey, that clearance sale

So I continued digging cause I wanted to know more

I found John's name with thousands in the records of the war

His last ride proved his courage - a ride you will acclaim

The Light Horse Charge at Beersheba of everlasting fame



That last day in October back in 1917

At 4pm our brave boys fell - that sad fact I did glean

That's when John's life was sacrificed, the record's crystal clear

But 4pm in Beersheba is midnight over here.......

So as John's gallant sprit rose to cross the great divide

Were lightning bolts back home a signal from the other side?

Is that why Billy bolted and went racing as in pain?

Because he'd never feel his master on his back again?

Was it coincidental? same time - same day - same date?

Some proof of numerology, or just a quirk of fate?

I think it's more than that, you know, as I've heard wiser men,

Acknowledge there are many things that go beyond our ken



Where craggy peaks guard secrets neath dark skies torn asunder

Where hoofbeats are companions to the rolling waves of thunder

Where lightning cracks like 303's and ricochets again

Where howling moaning gusts of wind sound just like dying men

Some Mountain cattlemen have sworn on lonely alpine track

They've glimpsed a huge black stallion - Light Horseman on his back.



Yes Sceptics say, it's swirling clouds just forming apparitions

Oh no, my friend you cant dismiss all this as superstition

The desert of Beersheba - or windswept Aussie range

John Stuart rides forever there - Now I dont find that strange.

Now some gaze at this photo, and they often question me

And I tell them a small white lie, and say he's family.

"You must be proud of him." they say - I tell them, one and all,

That's why he takes the pride of place - my Anzac on the Wall.















































































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Thanks to Bushfix, Matt , Roger and others for reminding all of us how we manage to live in this great country - the men and women who have made the ultimate sacrfice made it the place it is today. My Dad (RIP) served and myself and 1 of my brothers did some time with the RAAF. I'll be at the Dawn Service here in Tamworth tomorrow morning with tears in my eyes as I have now after reading what others have written

Lest we Forget

Tomorrow will be the first ANZAC day since I left the Army. Being in a small community Calliope only has a short street parade and a service at the cenotaph at 11am. So I am heading to Boyne Island for their Dawn Service and memorial service before returning to Calliope for their service.

Lest We Forget.

I saw a boy marching, with medals on his chest,
He marched alongside diggers, marching six abreast,
He knew it was Anzac Day, he walked along with pride,
And did his best to keep in step with the diggers by his side.

And when the march was over the boy looked rather tired.
A digger said. "Whose medals son?" to which the boy replied,,
"They belong to my Dad, but he didn't come back.
He died up in New Guinea, up on the Kokoda Track".

The boy looked rather sad, and a tear came to his eye,
But the digger said, "Don't worry son, I'll tell you why,"
He said, "Your old am marched with us today, all the bloomin way,
All us diggers knew he was here, it's like that on Anzac Day.

The boy looked rather puzzled he didn't understand
But the digger went on talking, and started to wave his hand,
"For this great land we live in, there's a price we have to pay,
To keep Australia free, and fly our flag today.'

'Yeas we all love fun and merriment in this country where we live,
"But the price was that some soldier his precious life must give,
"For you to go to school, my son, and worship God at will.
"Somebody had to pay the price, so our diggers paid the bill."

"Your dad died for us my son for all things good and true.
"And I hope you can understand these words I've said to you".

The boy looked up at the digger and after a little while,
His face changed expression, and he said with a beautiful smile,
I know my dad marched here today, this our Anzac Day,
I know he did, I know he did. all the bloom'n way!"

A pleasant bit of prose...........


Image Could Not Be Found

Just one more. We'll be getting away from the meaning of ExplorOz otherwise.............


ON ANZAC DAY




He looked more like a bikie, than a digger on parade, with his
Leather boots and jacket, with the medals all displayed. And his hair down past his collar, was uncombed and very grey, but the people stood and cheered him, as he marched on Anzac Day.

His face was lined with wrinkles, and sunglasses hid his eyes, but his step was light and measure, and he held his head up high. For he’d earned the right to be here, and was proud to lead the way, to remember friends who’d fallen, as he marched on Anzac Day.

He had travelled from the country, just to be with all his mates, who would all converge on Sydney, though they came from different states. But the ranks were getting thinner, as the years now slipped away, and he felt a little sadder, as he marched on Anzac Day.

Now thirty years and more had passed, since he’d worn his jungle greens, or spent a night out on patrol, eating bully beef and beans. But in his mind, it was just last week, or even yesterday, for the horror had not left him, as he marched on Anzac Day.

His medals now were tarnished, and the ribbons pale with age, but he wore them with great dignity, and the presence of a sage.
And he spoke for all around him, when he was heard to say, that he was proud to be Australian, as he marched on Anzac Day.




LEST WE FORGET

Lads All,
Mates, we aren't getting off any topic. I'm sure the good folk at ExplorOz are more than bright enough to realise that many of their members and wider audience come from the "ranks" - so to speak.
If nothing else, it might bring to "front of mind" the importance of ANZAC Day to readers of this thread - whether they choose just to view or respond.
I'm but 43, and though I am a member of the RAAF, the sacrifices of our predecessors is far from lost on me. Given the generation today, they need to be reminded as to why/how Australia is still the best country to live in. If they believe that - my work here is done.
Guys, I get choked up just thinking about ANZAC Day, and it's something that I cant explain.

The ADF is not just a job - it's a family. Sure, we have to endure the occasional wanker, but for the most part, instinctively we look after our mates - come Hell or High Water!

I wouldn't trade my job for Quids - well, except maybe a lotto win :-)

Amen to our predecessors............................................

Respectfully, Matt

I spent quite a bit of time over the past week or so selling Anzac Badges, and it was really noticable that the younger generation are right up there with it. I reckon I sold 80% of badges to the under thirties, and the over 70s, and the other 20% to the 30 to 70 year olds. Those in my age group, mid 60s seemed a little shy, while the youngies gladly parted with $10 or $20 odd . Go to a Dawn Service in Melbourne, and it's packed with young ones. We appear to be in good hands.Take Care All.