Although I am not in Australia at the moment, of course, I cannot go without paying tribute to those brave young soldiers who fought in the war so that I could live the free life I am lucky to have today. Anzac Day traditionally is the anniversary for the first military action that was fought by Australian and New Zealand troops at Gallipoli in Turkey, during the First World War.
For as long as I can remember, with school or my family I have always attended the Anzac Day ceremony each year, no matter where I am and this year was no exception. It amazes me that even on the other side of the world, national holidays in Australia are recognised. Wellington Arch, on Hyde Park Corner in London was the site of thousands of Aussie/Kiwi's who camped out for hours awaiting the dawn service to mark the 100th year anniversary. It was so incredible to see so many people showing their support, and it made me so proud to be apart of it.
While the last post always has me biting back tears, it's the Ode to Remembrance that always gets me, and that's what I'd like to leave you with (stanza 3, 4 & 5 only).
They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
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.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
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.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.
Lest we forget.
