~Lest We Forget~
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.
It was on this day, 78 years ago, that the ANZACs landed at the Gallipoli peninsula.
It was on this day, 78 years ago, that the ANZACs walked into hell itself, thanks to a blunder by the navy.
It was on this day, 78 years ago, that the first of 10,000 of our brothers died for their country.
It is on this day, every year since then, that we remember those brave soldiers who fell.
Today, is ANZAC day. The first one since the last of the Gallipoli ANZACs passed away.
4am. I never wake up at 4am. I consider it to still be the middle of the night. Today however, is a special day. It is the day my country gets together to honour the ones we have lost. To honour the ones that were lucky to return. To remember the friendships made and lost. The day also holds even more meaning to me, as it was at midnight on this day 2 years ago, that my grandfather died.
4:28am. I stand on my front lawn, unable to be at the dawn service. My head is bowed, remembering them. The men. The boys. The brave. The heros. I raise my head and look in the direction of the city, to the tomb of remembrance. Somewhere off in the distance, someone starts to play the Last Post. I salute until the music has ended.
I know, as I stand there, tears are being shed. Frail old men wear their coats, adorned with their now heavy military medals and badges. Men who fought for our freedom. Then I smile, remembering the thousands of young people like me, who are helping to keep the ANZAC spirit alive, even while the men and women who created it leave this world.
I turn to walk in, then I stop and think. We idolise and almost worship our sports stars. We pay these people hundreds of thousands or even millions of dollars. Ask any sports fan who their hero is, and it is bound to be the star of whatever team they go for. They are regarded as heros, yet what have they done? What have they given to the nation to be held in such high regard? These men aren't heros. The frail old men who march down the street every 25th of April are the heros. Hell, the men and women protecting our cities are the heros. The people who volunteer their time to help the less fortunate are the heros. They are the people who we should hold in such high regard, not out sports stars.
Next year I will be there. I will stand next to men 5 times my age and remember. I will be there cheering them as they march in the annual ANZAC day parade. I will listen to the stories they tell. I will lay a wreath for the fallen.
I walk inside from the cold and slide back in to my bed, content in the knowledge that I’m keeping the ANZAC spirit and memories alive.
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~