Every year, as a kid, Mum would pack my sister and I up and we'd board the train into the city.
We'd get there early, so that us kids could sit on the gutter somewhere along George Street — the march took hours.
We'd clap until our hands were sore.
We'd wave our plastic Australian flags.
We didn't leave until the end. Even at that age, I knew that it was important to stay. To recognise our veterans and to pay tribute to them, and to their comrades who fell.
Banner after banner would come past us, followed by men and women who'd served.
Army. Navy. Air Force.
Sappers, artillerymen, infantry, pilots, nurses and entertainers. And many more besides.
We came to recognise many of the characters who marched every year. We'd look out for entertainers we knew.
A fleet of ambulances and jeeps carried those who couldn't march under their own steam. They'd wave, and we'd cheer.
And the bands. Mostly brass and pipe bands. We pretended not to like the pipe bands in particular, but they're a wonderful part of the march.
Being the son of a Vietnam Veteran, ANZAC Day was always a special day. I have so many different memories of so many ANZAC Days.
One of the more poignant recurring ones is the horse, at the front of the parade, being led, riderless, with boots backwards in the stirrups.
The 'lone charger' is a tribute to the fallen. To those who didn't return. To those who returned, but are no longer with us.
At the time, there were no surviving veterans of the Boer War. Now, there are none from the Great War, either. In time, the last remaining World War II veterans will also pass.
The lone charger is a reminder of those men. A symbol of remembrance.
It says: We have not forgotten. We will not forget.
That is what ANZAC Day is about.
It is a sacred duty. To honour those who served. To remember those who made the supreme sacrifice.
John McCrae's poem, In Flanders Fields, reads, in part:
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
At many Dawn Services this morning, the following line will be read:
"As the dawn is now about to pierce the night, so let their memory inspire us to work for the coming of the new light into the dark places of the world."
That is their legacy. That is our duty. Our responsibility.
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.
Lest We Forget.
