Always solemn, joyful, poignant. Tear-inducing, gratitude, appreciation. Here's what Anzac Day looked like in Samford Valley.
1. flag at half mast 2. waving to the pilots in their WW2 flyover planes; they waved back!
3. pic on the the service program, via our local RSL: Australians Resting, Ypres Dugouts
The Memorial Service started with a parade: the band came first, playing It's a Long Way to Tipperary, followed by army jeeps carrying waving WW2 veterans and mostly driven by Vietnam vets, followed by many medals on many representative chests, followed by community groups.
It was a beautiful service, they all are. But 'the moment' for me was when the reader of Jeff Cook's poem "Grandpa, what did you do in the war?" wept at the final verse. Here's how it starts:
I’d been mowing the lawn and pulling some weeds, and slipped inside for a breather
I picked up the paper and turned on the news, not paying attention to either
When my grandson came in with a look on his face and a question that hit me full bore
An innocent question, no intention to hurt, “Grandpa, what did you do in the war?”
My skin went all creepy, I had sweat on my brow, my mind shot back fifty years
To bullets that thudded and whined all around, to terror, to nightmares, to tears
I was crawling through mud, I was shooting at men, tried to kill them before they killed me
Men who had wives and children at home, just like mine, just like my family.
“What did you do in the war?” he had asked, a question not meant to cause pain ....
and the last lines:
But maybe some day when he’s older than now, I will tell him what war did to me
But with luck he won’t ask me ever again, about wars that never should be.
Amen to that. Wars never should be.
Blessings to you on this beautiful day xo