Anzac reflection

I ENJOYED our local Anzac Day observance yesterday, even while the rain was falling at the end of the service. Once again we had the involvement of many young people, proudly wearing the medals of their parents, grandparents and great-grandparents. But for the first time, I really looked at the ranks of our veterans and noticed their declining numbers. It really hit home when a son of the late Alf Clark stepped forward to lay a wreath at the foot of our cenotaph. Alf and his great mate (and distant relative of mine) Sappy Bester were Rats of Tobruk and I once had the privilege of interviewing them about their wartime experiences. Sappy passed away several years ago and we lost Alf last year. I missed them yesterday. Lest We Forget.