Another ANZAC Day

The ANZACS were represented by the young men from Australia and New Zealand who took their places in the terrible, conflict known as World War 1, 1914-1918.
Those who were fortunate to return home with their lives have by now all joined their fallen comrades who fell on the battlefields.
Tomorrow, April 25 we in Australia and New Zealand will remember them along with all the others who served their respective countries in other conflicts since.
Two of my older brothers served in World War 2. They too have joined the fallen comrades.
My father David who passed on in 1981 told me many stories of his experiences in that WW1 conflict. His memories were very vivid.Sometimes he would tell of exploits, being mentioned in dispatches, having fun with his comrades, but at other times lamenting that he had just been a two Shillings a day murderer. I remember my sister asking my mother why my dad had reacted badly to something or other and my mother answered, "It's the war"!
In 2004 I my wife and I had the good fortune to visit the Somme are in France. It was a memorable day for us. I am adding a few photos with some comments

Sue and I at Vlllers Brettonneux. It was here on another April 25 that my Dad was mentioned in dispatches

A letter from King George, I would guess all the wounded got one. It is written in ink. I wonder if he had a host of "Ghost Writers"?

Sue at Pozziers. It was near here that her father was shot through the thigh and spent about a year in a hospital in Birmingham, some problem with infection. He was a driver bringing up 13lb shells and the German snipers would pick off the drivers

This would be somewhere in the vicinity where my dad was hit by a wizbang which removed his right shoulder muscle as well as other damage. His wound was in the 'light" category although it was thought he would never be able to raise his arm above his head. He had come to the conclusion that nothing would ever hit having had so many very close shaves, but said that as he made his way to safety he thought everything was going to hit him!

Our youngest son Ben became our tour guide and was later able to go into Belgium (vicariously for me!), where my dad also fought and lost many comrades

Villers Brettoneux again with the town itself in the distance.

Outside Villers Brettneux school museum, unfortunately shut on the one day I could be there.


Moquet Farm was up near the pine trees, the paddock in foreground was a mass of tunnels and concrete, almost impregnable.

Writing on the plaque

LEST WE FORGET