Anzac Day 2014

I write this on Thursday evening the eve before Anzac day 2014 as i wont write anything tomorrow. For the readers of my blog, ANZAC means a soldier in the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (1914-1918) This is the one day where Australians and New Zealanders embrace as comrades in different battles, a time when sporting rivalries are laid aside and we commemorate a time when our countries came of age.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young.Straight of limb, true of eyes, 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.

I have been asked to photograph a squadron tomorrow commemorating their centenary of operation which I am deeply honoured to do.

I find Anzac day a very emotional day, a time where tears seem closer to the surface than normal. I cannot explain why, and nor do I care to, but shall do so to explain something of the feelings I have. I know that my birth father was a soldier and fought in a theatre of war and he carried the scars of what he was involved with for many years, but my emotions are not really for him, they come from a collective wellspring of feeling for the many people who left this wonderful land feeling they were invincible in part and who in many cases learned way too early the harshness and unforgiving nature of what war is, and for those who would never return. My thoughts are also for the many soldiers who are currently serving in difficult conflicts around the world even now.

I am afforded a life in a land that has been so very good to me, a land that is free, and for the most part a rich and abundant land. For me it is THIS day, that I feel is the true Australia day and a day when people I have never known from those that fought to the people who march with dignity and the loved ones of those fallen who march on in their relatives stead carry a tradition that does us all a great service and a great honour.

This is the 99th year since the landing at Gallipoli in Turkey where so many people lost their lives and so many stories of courage and bravery in spite of indescribable odds were born. I have never been to Gallipoli and don't believe I had a single relative who was there on those shores on such fateful days, but my tears flow for them nonetheless. I wont be there on the 100th anniversary-which is perhaps a good thing, as I cannot imagine the ground unstained by my tears, but on that day next year, as in that day on the morrow....at the going down of the sun, and in the morning, I will ALWAYS remember them.

Thank you