The 25th of April, Anzac Day The one day of the year that evokes universal emotions in so many people

The 25th of April, Anzac twenty-four hours The one day of the year that evokes universal emotions in so many people. I am no contrastive as I base with pride as an Air ability cadet in my perfectly pressed blue uniform, time honor slouch hat, high polished belt buckle and black patent shoes that g comprehend wish well ebony in the sun. With a firebrand grey Styer rifle slung over my shoulder I rack guarding the quality Lake War Memorial as part of the catafalque party. I feel esteemed to occupy been chosen along with three other cadets from 224 Squadron at Amberley to wordlessly stand guard at this sacred memorial on Anzac sidereal day 2010.With the blazing mid-morning sun, searing down on the back of my neck I taciturnly plead with God. Please dont let me faint in the heat, like so many cook done on previous parades. All the cadets from 224 SQN have taken bets on who would be the first cadet to collapse in the harsh sun bets are on Brewell, who is nearly 15 kgs stou tness and known to n perpetually make it through a bivouac without having to root word to the First Aid station at least once. As I stand with my head solemnly bowed, my mind wanders as I stand perfectly still.I think of grandpa, who when he was not much onetime(a) than me was Chasing Japs almost the bloody jungle. This is the plainly insight I have of Granddad and the war as he seldom talks of it. I catch a quick glimpse of Granddad from the corner of pump as he stands in the massed crowd, at 85 years of jump on he still stands tall. It is nearly 65 long years by and by Hiroshima and Nagasaki were bombed and the war declared over, yet Granddad has never missed an Anzac mean solar day ceremony. However, he has never marched on this day of remembrance or ever worn his medals, much preferring to blend in with the crowd and remain anonymous.why he chooses to do this, I dont know. Although, I strongly suspect it has some matter to do with the fact that many of his childhood fri ends from the small country town in Victoria that he grew up in, never returned to Australia from the fighting in newborn Guinea. Or is it because he is a modest man? As he once said You shouldnt have to be thanked or applauded for doing the right thing. My mind is brought back to the present, when the silence is pierced by the sounds of The Last smear from the lone bugle and the Wing Commander of the day barking out the call for for the flag to be lowered.As the sound of the bugle fades, my mind returns to Granddad. care a time traveler, I am transported back to another Anzac Day parade when I was about 10 years of age. I am marching with the Moggill Boy Scouts, at the Kenmore parade, once once once more Granddad portmanteau word in with the crowd that throngs the side of the road. After the ceremony, I am manner of notching back up the steep hill beside Granddad, having to take two go to his one. I ask him why he never marches on Anzac Day and lets me wear his many medals on my right breast.He precisely mumbles, I have my reasons. As we approach the bakery, where I know we pull up stakes stop and he will buy me an ice cold puff and sticky finger bun with bright pink icing, he turns to me, ruffles my pig and quietly says But, you make it all worthwhile. Suddenly a deafening roar of an F1 11 resounds approaching from the east and interrupts the speech by Shane Neumann, the topical anesthetic sitting member for the Federal electorate of Blair. I suspect the crowd is quite pleased that this silver winged albatross drowns his lengthy speech out.The F1 11 is now directly overhead and the crowd raises its eyes to see the belly of this coarse piece of flying machinery. I wonder why this old aircraft that most countries have phased out years ago still bathroom bring a crowd to a standstill. Is it that, like Anzac Day, people like tradition and want to have a connection with the past I scrape to gently sway from side to side to try and make for a b it of circulation into my body. The temperature must be at least 30 degrees and I have been standing unmoved for nearly an hour.I start to plead with God again not to let me faint. once again my mind wanders off and I limit myself thinking of not only Granddad but of Nana, who is also a returned service woman, and who like Granddad and so many more gave away their youth to serve their country. I think of Nana in the small kitchen of their modest home in Taringa, fussing around making me and all the other grandchildren making morning tea. I find it hard to believe that she could have ever been in the army. Why would someone so quiet and caring like her want to serve during a war?She must have felt it was her duty, for at the time basketball team of her older siblings were in the forces serving overseas. Her father, also being a returned seasoned from World War 1, maybe this is why Nana also comes and watches me on Anzac Day. Once again my mind is brought back to the present when the silence is broken by sounds of music that accompanies the wreath laying. As the young and old solemnly walk and place a wreath at the foot of cenotaph, I listen to the words of the chorus of the accompanying song, Lest we ForgetYes, as I stand with the Styer slung over my shoulder, I realise it is those three words Lest we Forget why I am here at present. I am here today to thank Nana, Granddad, and everybody else who served in the war, for making such huge sacrifices, to secure our nations freedom. I hope that their sacrifices will not be forgotten. As the flag is again raised and the lone bugler plays the Reveille, I look around at the huge crowd, and I know for sure they will all be remembered.