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Anecdotal stories, observations,comments and discussion pieces as insights into living in Rural Australia

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Living Rural - April 2007

Anzac Day in the Bush

April 17th 2007 07:49

Lest We Forget

The time of year is again approaching when Australia remembers those who fought in many theatres of war over the last one hundred or so years. Most country towns will hold a march from point to point with any veterans available, women who had served as nurses or land army, some children of these service men and women, Red Cross and CWA members, the boy scouts, girl guides and possibly the fire and ambulance volunteers to swell the numbers. The local clergy will say the prayers and others will share the formalities of the service. The last post and reveille will be sounded by the gifted child that is learning the trumpet or the sounds will come from a well worn tape recording. Wreaths will be laid at the local memorial – a cairn in a park, a soldier with his rifle turned upside down in the main street or a wall on which names are displayed – many of them the same surnames as those that are still within the town. Nothing will stop this solemn ceremony – even Highway traffic must give way for this event.

Most towns sport a Memorial Hall, a Memorial park and/or an RSL Hall as permanent reminders of these sacrifices. These places are held in respect and a certain reverence.

But there are always the hidden stories of the community, stories that have not been told. Not withstanding the horrendous experiences of many early veterans, stories of First World War returned soldiers not recognizing the experiences of those returning from World War Two could be one reason for two memorials in a town. Later the same pnenonemum occurred when Vietnam veterans returned, so that many did not join the local RSL. Korean and Malaysian servicemen and those involved in United Nations forces rarely get a mention. Hopefully the notion that they weren’t in a “real war” have died with the times. Aboriginal Serviceman – whether they went overseas or not - were completely ignored and not offered the same concessions for land settlement and health services but simply returned to the reserve, bush pocket or town's outskirts and their struggling families. They were not invited to join service clubs or to drink with their past “mates” in the hotels. This was yet another blot on these groups that were formed to express their support for each other. Even today the names on the walls are not complete, but slowly the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Veteran organizations are finding their voice.

But what of those who stayed behind and ran two or three farms – old men who had hoped to be retiring, young men unfit for war service but having to work long difficult hours to ensure farms stayed viable, sisters who forgo their own careers to help hold things together, wives who not only had to bring up young families but ran farms or businesses with little experience in the field.

A small town's memorial

While I will never write off the sacrifice of servicemen and women and I will be there on Anzac Day acknowledging these sacrifices of the past – which includes my own father who died quite young officially from “war causes”. I will be thinking of those who are at present working in various places of war and unrest today. But I will also be thinking of those who are not on the wall - those who were ridiculed or ignored on their return and those who made and continue to make sacrifices on the home front; and I will pray that we are learning to be more sensitive to those who suffer physically, mentally and emotionally as a result of man’s inhumanity to man, wherever and however that is manifested in this “sad sick world”.

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Posted By: bumpkin - Category: farming, town life, people, events, observations

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Easter poem

April 2nd 2007 08:26

Easter Poem
For those of you that know the Easter story, you will remember that when Jesus came into Jerusalem riding a donkey, he was met by a cheering crowd waving palm branches. The churches celebrate this event on Palm Sunday. During this parade, some of the authorities became angry and told Jesus to stop the crowd. Jesus said – if they stopped, the stones on the road would start to shout. That is where I got the idea for this poem. Also a fond memory of G.K. Chesterson’s “The Donkey” poem which I learnt at school – and like most rote learning, never forgot. Happy and Safe Easter everyone.

The Stones cried out

I heard the stones cry out today
While rushing in the street
To do the Easter shopping
Of eggs and buns and meat.

Faint was the sound there in the road,
Quite still, I had to stand.
Through noisy cars and bustleing crowds
I heard the stones’demand.

T’was then I saw the traffic stop.
The drivers hurl abuse,
For though they wished to rush on
They found it was no use.

Picking through the traffic came,
A donkey, young and keen;
Wanting to please his rider,
It made the strangest scene.

I grabbed a branch from off a tree
And rushed out in the street;
I could not let the stones alone
Praise the Prince of Peace!