Courage, Endurance, Mateship, Sacrifice

Hi Landy,
Thank You ,bought a tear to my eyes.
Ex Viet vet. Regards Joe.

Hi Landy,very well put on behalf of us all in this great land we call home,we should ,in our own way stop and think of the sacrifices that were made and are still being made today,and be thankful that they made the decision to fight for our country,so that we are enjoying the freedom we have today.
Thank You

morning Landy
well put , a very good turn out at Shepparton dawn service despite light rain ,
and lots of young kids , good to see .
cheers mechpete

100 YEARS SINCE ANZAC
by Army Chaplain Jim Cosgrove

There's 100 years since Anzac, since the war to end all wars
Yet Australia's sons and daughters still respond to freedom's cause
In those hundred years of fighting there's a lot that’s still the same
And the good old Aussie Digger still brings honour to his name.


We behold the Aussie Spirit in this proud Centenary
And the birthplace of a Nation - "Anzac Cove - Gallipoli"
Where a Lone Pine tells the story of those men who paid the price
And is testament to Glory found in acts of Sacrifice

For it’s not the prize of victory that marks our celebration
But the 'Spirit' of Gallipoli that so describes our nation
It’s the character of Mateship, it’s the courage that they showed
And the selflessness that saw them fall with faces to the foe

They were young and full of life when they responded to the call
They were looking for adventure and they knew no fear at all
When confronted by the torments that for all who war awaits
They endured the hell and horror through commitment to their mates

They endured great deprivation, hunger, hardship, thirst and pain
Beside their mates, with gritted teeth they'd joke and not complain
They would clamour over trenches with machine guns spewing death
They knew their Mates would watch their back until their dying breath

At battles on the Western Front, the blizzards of Korea
The mud of the Kokoda Track, the Last Charge at Beersheba
The Tunnel rats of Vietnam, Malaya, Timor Leste
Tobruk, Iraq, Afghanistan - Our diggers gave their best

Let us recall our Diggers' traits of which we all take pride
The Larrikin, the Optimist, the ones who always tried
The willingness to lend a hand and greet life with a smile
The willingness to sacrifice their lives in times of trial

Across the years these Anzac voices call to you and me
Do not forget the sacrifice of mates who set you free
Of those young souls whom age won’t weary nor the years condemn
By living Anzac Spirit lives - We will remember them

So when we hear the bugle play its solemn haunting strain
When Last Post bids us to recall young vital lives again
In silence may our hearts reflect on Anzac's hundred years
On those who sacrificed their lives and those who shed their tears

Then as the bugle rouses us from silent reverie
As themes of life and freedom dawn anew for you and me
Australians all let us rejoice - For we are young and free
The Spirit of the Anzacs starts its second century.

Looks like we had it easier in Bayswater Vic - dark with cloud but no mist or rain and about 3 times the normal turnout for this special 100th anniversary.

From a mate at work, ex SAS. Most humbling

Dawn Service Twilight
By Todd Andrews

Standing in the morning mist, my feet start feeling numb
'Why am I here', my senses cry, ‘'tis nothing short of dumb'.

I raise my head and search, through a stinging, acrid eye.
Then suddenly, through fog so thick, it appears to answer why.

The Cross so tall and noble, it reminds me of back then.
Of those who went before me, and the one's who'll go again.

My shoes and welts all blackened, and the suit so neatly pressed.
My sincere respect and gratitude, displayed in how I'm dressed.

I look from side to side, not unlike I'm dressing ranks.
All around me people gather, I guess to give their thanks.

Whilst they mostly look quite shabby, and their children, much the same.
The patriot inside me, is heartened that they came.

A sudden hush befalls the crowd, a feeling much sublime.
The reason that we gather, is now clearly marking time.

The emotions rise inside me, many difficult to tell.
Such stillness at this hour, long ago preceded hell.

I await the coming readings, to espouse the acts of men.
Who gave their all and being, whose deeds defy the pen.

Instead, I hear a lecture, about the horrors that they saw.
About the evil of the causes, about the pointlessness of war.

Little talk surrounding mateship, heroic deeds are all but mute.
Sacrifice is clearly wrong, when the cause, it doesn't suit.

It’s not about the politics, or the right or wrong.
It’s not about the lyrics, just those who sang the song.

The suffering of the living, a story worthy to be told.
But this morning is reserved, for those that grow not old.

My reason for the early rise, clear at odds with some.
I’d prefer to honour men, not preach to those that come.

Reflections of my service, of the men to left and right.
Bring memories of their spirit, and the way they faced the fight.

Their humour ever present, their devotion beyond compare.
Camaraderie never failing, despite privation and despair.

Although it’s oft forgotten, when the voices break the night.
The verse before the ode, reflects the spirit of which I write.

They went with songs to battle, healthy, young, aglow.
Staunchly faced the odds, and fell towards the foe.

Such contrasts are the challenge, when you stand to take the floor.
Reflecting both the best and worst, the true dichotomy of war.

The tears reflect my sadness, while a smile betrays the pride.
Of having had the honour, of serving at their side.

If you ask me what I want, why I come here every year,
The answer may surprise you, it's to laugh and shed a tear.

Is this inappropriate? Disrespectful to the dead?
I refuse to mourn their passing, I WILL REMEMBER THEM instead.

Thanks Landy
Dennis Ellery - Nasho Vietnam Vet 5714296 2RAR Vietnam 67/68

I'll go against the grain guys.
To quote my late father. "Those young men didn't need to go there and get butchered to make Australia what it is today."
His father and brother signed up together, got the train in from Hamley Bridge in country SA. After training they were sent to the western front.
My grandfather was Mustard Gassed and shot through the leg. He got of lightly compared to his brother, his leg was blown off though he did survive. These men came back broken and shattered shadows of them former selves.
My grandfather made it to 60, his brother 40. My grandfather was always an old man in my fathers eyes, his wife used to bathe his feet each night as they were always sore. Apparently from years in the trenches (trench foot).
Taking nothing away from the young men who's bravery bordered on insane, but what a waste. I know it was a sign of the times and we just followed the Poms.

Regards

Lyndon

Lest we forget