11.11.1918 L.W.F

[Ash]

The Australian

The bravest thing God ever made!

(A British Officer’s Opinion)

The skies that arched his land were blue,

His bush-born winds were warm and sweet,

And yet from earliest hours he knew

The tides of victory and defeat:

From fierce floods thundering at his birth,

From red droughts ravening while he played,

He learned no fear no foes on earth -

The bravest thing God ever made!

The bugles of the Motherland

Rang ceaselessly across the sea,

To call him and his lean brown band

To shape Imperial destiny.,

He went by youth’s grave purpose willed,

The goal unknown, the cost unweighed,

The promise of his blood fulfilled -

The bravest thing God ever made!

We know - it is our deathless pride! -

The splendour of his first fierce blow;

How, reckless, glorious, undenied,

He stormed those steel-lined cliffs we know!

And none who saw him scale the height

Behind his reeking bayonet blade

Would rob him of his title right -

The bravest thing God ever made!

Bravest, where half a world of men

Are brave beyond all earth’s rewards,

So stoutly none shall charge again

Till the last breaking of the swords;

Wounded or hale, won home from war,

Or yonder by the Lone Pine laid,

Give him his due for evermore -

The bravest thing God ever made!-W. H. Ogilvie [img size=500]http://www.australianfishing.com.au/media/kunena/attachments/legacy/images/lest.JPG

[kriso]

lest we forget

[hulk]

too right ash,

Sends shivers down spine whenever I think about it and hear the bugles. We have no right to complain about what we do these days.We've got it good

[Ash]

Too right hulk. Full respect and support for any current, or previous men and women who are or were in the armed forces.

They always have done themselves and Australia proud.

[vonny]

THE MARCH: :

I wore my father’s medals,

Each Anzac Day, for years

But I never felt the glory,

Through the sting of unshed tears,

So, I marched on, sad and lonely,

In this military scene,

A small boy in a column,

Where his father should have been.

The men who marched beside me,

Would pat me on the head,

With a kind of rough compassion,

For a boy, whose dad was dead,

And their eyes would fill with sorrow,

And a sadness cloud their face,

For the many boys with medals,

Marching in their father’s place.

The bitterness would choke me,

And I marched with down cast head,

For I knew there was no comfort,

In the hour that lay ahead,

So, I listened to the speeches,

But I felt no surge of pride,

For, medals are cold comfort,

When your dad has fought, and died.

My heart would start to tremble,

As the bugle’s notes rang loud,

And the Last Post’s haunting sadness,

Brought a stillness to the crowd,

But, I never saw the glory,

For the bitterness that grew,

And my heart would fill with yearning,

For the dad…. I never knew.

A. J. Mc Intyre.

[ellicat]

Hear, Hear.

[vonny]

Nearly xmas so here is one I have had for a while.

Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone

In a one bedroom house made of plaster & stone.

I had come down the chimney with presents to give

And to see just who in this home did live.

I looked all about a strange sight I did see,

No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.

No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand.

For this house was different, so dark and dreary,

I'd found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly.

I heard stories about them,

I had to see more, so I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.

And there he lay sleeping silent alone,

Curled up on the floor in his one bedroom home.

His face so gentle, his room in such disorder,

Not how I pictured an Australian soldier.

Was this the hero of whom I’d just read?

Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?

I soon understood this was more then a man.

For I realized the families owed their lives to this man.

Soon ‘round the world, the children would play,

And grownups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.

They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,

Because of soldiers like this one lying here.

I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone

On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.

Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye,

I dropped to my knees and started to cry.

The solder awakened and I heard a rough voice,

“Santa don’t cry, this life is my choice;

I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more,

My life is my God, my country, my Corps.â€

With that he rolled over and drifted off into sleep,

I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.

I watched him for hours, so silent and still,

I noticed he shivered from the cold night’s chill.

I didn’t want to leave him on that cold dark night,

This guardian of honor so willing to fight.

Then the soldier rolled over, whispered in a voice clean and pure,

“Carry on Santa, it’s Christmas day, all is secure.â€

One look at my watch, and I knew he was right,

Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night!

Author Unknown

[jeff f]

and if all that doesnt bring a tear to your eye you are not human

lest we forget