“DIGGER”…THAT’S WHAT ANZAC MEANS TO ME”.

[Bernard de Silva]

“DIGGER”…THAT’S WHAT ANZAC MEANS TO ME”.

In a theatre of battle, inhumanity runs rife,
then a khaki line, the brunt must often bear.
For when a rifle, along with a bayonet knife,
is your tool of trade…a Digger will be there.

The digger, a legend now, for so many years,
back to the times with Gordon, in the Sudan.
then fighting the Boer, with the ‘Carbineers’,
always the Digger, was essential to the plan.

If there’s oppression, or an underdog in sight,
Australia’s creed of fairness, stands to the fore.
Off to the ‘Boxer’ rebellion, the Chinese fight,
khaki clad Diggers again on the foreign shore.

Came the first big show…“The war to end War”,
again khaki ranks rallied, to the Empire’s call.
Light Horsemen, then first to leave our shore,
dispatched to the front, were those first to fall.

Our Navy and Airforce, never sell them short,
they too, swelled ranks of honour on demand.
Served with distinction, anywhere they fought,
but the frontline Digger, died upon command.

First at Gallipoli, the stalemate long and hard,
a landing slaughter, the Turk upon the height. 
‘Over the top’, to the wire…die to make a yard.
later, to Passchendale, a mongrel way to fight.

Egypt, Gaza, Bersheeba, to the Somme, between,
’til “The Great War” ended, diggers saw it all.
“The War To End Wars”, little did that mean,
conflict prevails, then ever, comes another call.

   
First a Spanish prelude, to Communism’s tide,
a minimal involvement, for volunteers to fight.
One’s politics or ideals, dictated on which side,
as Government supported neither left nor right.

Then an excursion into madness, war yet again,
a second global conflict, the baying dogs of war.
Atrocity and genocide…why, no one can explain.
human destruction, to a level, never seen before.

Deserts, the Mediterranean, Europe once again,
Africa, Greece, Italy, France…onward to Berlin.
The Digger fought each foe, every big campaign,
then came home to defend and triumph yet again.

New Guinea, then island hopping, finally Japan,
a just revenge upon the Emperor and rising sun.
And yet greater horror man now inflicts on man,
the atom devastated, nuclear warfare had begun.

Malaya, in the tropics, then Korea’s frozen land,
two vastly different theatres, each a different role.
Diggers answered, to the calls foreign in demand,
their actions too often dictated by others' control.

After Borneo, there came a folly we call ‘Vietnam’,
again the same story, killing fields and genocide.
Beardless drawn at ballot, to war for Uncle Sam,
returned to be condemned, bereft of all but pride.

Seems yet the march continues, strains the same,
midst smoke and sand, to the Persian Gulf again.
Was the Gulf War, War on Terror’s now the name,
same banner, star spangled…still the same refrain.

Seems men are still called, to die upon command,
the Digger best prepared… familiar with the stunt.
Decades run to centuries, but now all understand,
warfare may differ…naught changes, at the front.

Seems if I hear ‘Anzac’, or someone mentions war,
Khaki drill and legends, fill those visions that I find,
So, no offence to other services, now, or gone before,
“Anzac”, means "Digger"…that’s what comes to mind.

©. Copyright: Bernard de Silva. 2007.

[therese]

excellent bernie!  i reckon, if it was the pollies that were made to fight, we'd have an awful lot less conflicts