Today is
ANZAC day. This is the Australian and
New Zealand day of remembrance for
military men and women who have given their lives in service of the country. I always appreciated the November 11 'Poppy
Day' in the UK, but I must be honest and say that it wasn't until I experienced
my first ANZAC dawn service that I truly understood how important such
ceremonies are in the lives of the survivors of war.
I have
had the great and humbling opportunity to be of service myself to old soldiers
and air force men. There is nothing more
moving than to hold the hand of one who walked the Kokoda trail as he relates
the physical challenges it set them; their feet lost in layers of fungus, their
skin erupted from bites and stings and aggravated by the intense jungle
conditions. To find the once hardened
soldier grasping your fingers and crying full tears (after who knows how long)
as he talks of the friends who died in his arms.
Then to
hear the pilot's story of the shock of the Darwin bombings - how they couldn't
quite believe it was happening. How he
and others had gone up to a PNG posting then and found that it was not so much
the danger in the air that they had to fight, as the environment and their own
selves.
To listen
to the real experiences, face to face, has been one of the most amazing,
daunting, harrowing yet heartening privileges of my life. A most special memory is of "Sergeant
L". There was a moment on that
ANZAC day when I went to check on him and found him watching the parade on
television with tears rolling down, that I knew I had to push him a little in
order to bring some healing. He admitted
even his own son did not know about some horrific events and, as he felt his
end was drawing near, he wanted to release the burden. So I sat and listened. I will not share those things with you. That would be disrespectful of his
confidence, but also inappropriate for this particular blog.
War is
bitter. War is miserable. War brings out the animal in men. However, war can also bring out the very best
of the human spirit.
This is
never more apparent than in the recovery that must take place following
it. "Sergeant L" had managed
to live a pretty decent life, with a loving and understanding wife and three
wonderful children. He had made a
business which his son took over and there were grandchildren too. But the wounds were deep.
His
burden shared, three weeks later, we
'fare welled' "Sergeant L".
At the going down of the sun and in the morning, we
shall remember them.
Lest We Forget.
(Pictures obtained from Google Images)
A moving and thought-provoking post, Yamani. I'm always particularly saddenend when I think of the Australian and New Zealand troops who came halfway round the world to fight in a war in defence of the Old Country almost 100 years ago now. So much suffering in both wars.
ReplyDeleteHari OM
ReplyDeleteQuite so. Such horror man visit upon Man.