Windows Live ID  Web Search:    
go to NineMSNGroups 
Groups Home  |  My Groups  |  Help  
 
My Spot,Mine[email protected] 
  
What's New
  
  Welcome Page  
  Birthday & Special Events Calendar.  
  ♥.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♥  
  Messages  
  
  General  
  
  Please Click.  
  
  Weight Loss Tips  
  
  Good Health.  
  
  Computer Tips.  
  
  Useless Trivia  
  
  Verses  
  
  Calendars  
  
  Happy Birthday.  
  
  Share a laugh.  
  
  Handy Hints.  
  
  Suggestions.  
  
  Friendship Page  
  
  Blooming Basket.  
  
  Beauty Tips  
  
  Christmas.  
  Our Friendship Thread.  
  Christmas Time.  
  Our Recipes.  
  Beauty Tips.  
  Our Handy Hints  
  Quote of The Day  
  Quizes  
  Horoscope  
  ♥.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♥  
  Hide your Address.  
  Meet your Managers.  
  Our Rules Page.  
  Copyright Rules.  
  Household Hints and Solutions...  
  How To Access.  
  Links to Friends.  
  MSN Support Address.  
  Pictures  
    
    
  ♥.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♥  
  Chat Acronyms  
  Our Banner.  
  Links  
  MySpotMine Chat  
  Today in History  
  Dream Decoder.  
  
  
  Tools  
 
General : Anzac Day.
Choose another message board
 
     
Reply
 Message 1 of 3 in Discussion 
From: NineMSN NicknameJustmegreatnanrobinson  (Original Message)Sent: 24/04/2008 6:56 AM
 
 
 
 
                     
The Final Inspection.

 The Soldier stood and faced his God,

  Which must always come to pass.

    He hoped his shoes were shining,

     Just as brightly as his brass.

     'Step forward now, you Soldier,

     How shall I deal with you?

            Have you always turned the other cheek?

              To My Church have you been true?'

                   The Soldier squared his shoulders and said,

                   'No, my Lord, I ain't.

                   Because those of us who carry guns, 

                   Can't always be a saint.

                   I've had to work most Sundays,

                   And at times my talk was tough.

                   And sometimes I've been violent,

                   Because the world is awfully rough.

                   But, I never took a dollar,

                   That wasn't mine to keep...

                   Though I worked a lot of overtime,

                   When the bills got just too steep.

                   And I never passed a cry for help,

                  Though at times I shook with fear.

                   And sometimes, God, forgive me,

                   I've wept unmanly tears. 

                    I know I don't deserve a place,

                   Among the people here.

                   They never wanted me around,

                   Except to calm their fears.

                   If you've a place for me here, Lord,

                   It needn't be so grand.

                   I never expected or had too much,

                   But if you don't, I'll understand.

                   There was a silence all around the throne,

                   Where the Saints had often trod.

                   As the Soldier waited quietly,

                   For the judgment of his God.

                   'Step forward now, you Soldier,

                   You've borne your burdens well.

                   Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,

                   You've done your time in Hell.'

                   ~Author Unknown~

 

 

 



First  Previous  2-3 of 3  Next  Last 
Reply
 Message 2 of 3 in Discussion 
From: NineMSN NicknameJustmegreatnanrobinsonSent: 24/04/2008 7:05 AM
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
The Anzac on the Wall.
 
I wandered through a country town 'cos I had time to spare,
And went into an antique shop to see what was in there.
Old Bikes and pumps and kero lamps, but hidden by it all,
A photo of a soldier boy - an Anzac on the Wall.
"The Anzac have a name?" I asked. The old man answered "No,
The ones who could have told me mate, have passed on long ago."
The old man kept on talking and, according to his tale,
The photo was unwanted junk bought from a clearance sale.
"I asked around," the old man said, "but no one knows his face,
He's been on that wall twenty years, deserves a better place.
For someone must have loved him so, it seems a shame somehow."
I nodded in agreement and then said, "I'll take him now."
My nameless digger's photo, well it was a sorry sight,
A cracked glass pane and a broken frame - I had to make it right.
To prise the photo from its frame I took care just in case,
'Cause only sticky paper held the cardboard back in place.
I peeled away the faded screed and much to my surprise,
Two letters and a telegram appeared before my eyes.
The first reveals my Anzac's name and regiment of course,
John Mathew Francis Stuart - of Australia's own Light Horse.
This letter written from the front, my interest now was keen,
This note was dated August seventh 1917.
"Dear Mum, I'm at Khalasa Springs not far from the Red Sea,
They say it's in the Bible - looks like a Billabong to me.
"My Kathy wrote I'm in her prayers she's still my bride to be,
I just can't wait to see you both you're all the world to me.
And Mum you'll soon meet Bluey, last month they shipped him out,
I told him to call on you when he's up and about."
"That Bluey is a larrikin and we all thought it funny,
He lobbed a Turkish hand grenade into the CO's dunny.
I told you how he dragged me wounded in from no man's land,
He stopped the bleeding closed the wound with only his bare hand."
"Then he copped it at the front from some stray shrapnel blast,
It was my turn to drag him in and I thought he wouldn't last.
He woke up in hospital and nearly lost his mind,
Cause out there on the battlefield he'd left one leg behind."
"He's been in a bad way mum, he knows he'll ride no more,
Like me he loves a horse's back, he was a champ before.
So please Mum can you take him in, he's been like my brother,
Raised in a Queensland orphanage he's never known a mother."
But struth, I miss Australia mum and in my mind each day,
I am a mountain cattleman on high plains far away.
I'm mustering white-faced cattle, with no camel's hump in sight,
And I waltz my Matilda by a campfire every night.
I wonder who rides Billy, I heard the pub burnt down,
I'll always love you and please say hooroo to all in town".
The second letter I could see was in a lady's hand,
An answer to her soldier son there in a foreign land.
Her copperplate was perfect, the pages neat and clean,
It bore the date November 3rd 1917.
''Twas hard enough to lose your Dad, without you at the war,
I'd hoped you would be home by now - each day I miss you more"
"Your Kathy calls around a lot since you have been away,
To share with me her hopes and dreams about your wedding day.
And Bluey has arrived - and what a godsend he has been,
We talked and laughed for days about the things you've done and seen."
"He really is a comfort and works hard around the farm,
I read the same hope in his eyes that you won't come to harm.
Mc Connell's kids rode Billy but suddenly that changed,
We had a violent lightning storm and it was really strange."
"Last Wednesday just on midnight, not a single cloud in sight,
It raged for several minutes, it gave us all a fright.
It really spooked your Billy - and he screamed and bucked and reared,
And then he rushed the sliprail fence, which by a foot he cleared."
"They brought him back next afternoon but something's changed I fear,
It's like the day you brought him home, for no one can get near.
Remember when you caught him with his black and flowing mane?,
Now horse breakers fear the beast that only you can tame,"
"That's why we need you home son" - then the flow of ink went dry,
This letter was unfinished and I couldn't work out why.
Until I started reading the letter number three,
A yellow telegram delivered news of tragedy.
Her son killed in action - oh - what pain that must have been,
The same date as her letter - 3rd November 1917.
This letter which was never sent, became then one of three,
She sealed behind the photo's face - the face she longed to see.
And John's home town's old timers -children when he went to war,
Would say no greater cattleman had left the town before.
They knew his widowed mother well - and with respect did tell,
How when she lost her only boy she lost her mind as well.
She could not face the awful truth, to strangers she would speak,
"My Johnny's at the war you know, he's coming home next week."
They all remembered Bluey, he stayed on to the end,
A younger man with wooden leg became her closest friend.
And he would go and find her when she wandered old and weak,
And always softly say, "Yes dear - John will be home next week."
Then when she died Bluey moved on, to Queensland some did say,
I tried to find out where he went but don't know to this day.
And Kathy never wed - a lonely spinster some found odd,
She wouldn't set foot in a church - she'd turned her back on God.
John's mother left no will I learned on my detective trail,
This explains my photo's journey, that clearance sale.
So I continued digging 'cause I wanted to know more,
I found John's name with thousands in the records of the war.
His last ride proved his courage - a ride you will acclaim,
The Light Horse Charge at Beersheba of everlasting fame.
That last day in October back in 1917,
At 4pm our brave boys fell - that sad fact I did glean.
That's when John's life was sacrificed, the record's crystal clear,
But 4pm in Beersheba is midnight over here.......
So as John's gallant spirit rose to cross the great divide,
Were lightning bolts back home a signal from the other side?
Is that why Billy bolted and went racing as in pain,
Because he'd never feel his master on his back again?
Was it coincidental? Same time - same day - same date?
Some proof of numerology, or just a quirk of fate?
I think it's more than that, you know, as I've heard wiser men,
Acknowledge there are many things that go beyond our ken.
Where craggy peaks guard secrets neath dark skies torn asunder,
Where hoof beats are companions to the rolling waves of thunder.
Where lightning cracks like 303's and ricochets again,
Where howling moaning gusts of wind sound just like dying men.
Some Mountain cattlemen have sworn on lonely alpine track,
They've glimpsed a huge black stallion - Light Horseman on his back.
Yes sceptics say, it's swirling clouds just forming apparitions,
Oh no, my friend you can't dismiss all this as superstition.
The desert of Beersheba - or windswept Aussie range,
John Stuart rides forever there - Now I don't find that strange.
Now some gaze at this photo and they often question me,
And I tell them a small white lie, and say he's family.
"You must be proud of him." they say - I tell them, one and all,
That's why he takes the pride of place - my Anzac on the Wall.
 
(Author Unknown)
 
 
Lest We Forget.

 
 
language=javascript>var bMB=true;</SCRIPT>

Reply
 Message 3 of 3 in Discussion 
From: NineMSN NicknameJustmegreatnanrobinsonSent: 24/04/2008 2:14 PM

The History of Dawn Service

    The Dawn Service on ANZAC Day has become a solemn Australian and New Zealand tradition. It is taken for granted as part of the ANZAC ethos and few wonder how it all started. 

Its story, as it were, is buried in a small cemetery carved out of the bush some kilometres outside the northern Queensland town of Herberton. Almost paradoxically, one grave stands out by its simplicity. 

It is covered by protective white- washed concrete slab with a plain cement cross at its top end. No epitaph recalls even the name of the deceased. The Inscription on the cross is a mere two words - "A Priest".

No person would identify the grave as that of a dedicated clergyman who created the Dawn Service, without the simple marker placed next to the grave only in recent times.

It reads:

"Adjacent to, and on the right of this marker, lies the grave of the late Reverend Arthur Ernest White, a Church of England clergyman and padre, 44th Battalion, First Australian Imperial Force. On 25th April 1923, at Albany in Western Australia, the Reverend White led a party of friends in what was the first ever observance of a Dawn parade on ANZAC Day, thus establishing a tradition which has endured, Australia wide ever since."

Reverend White was serving as one of the padres of the earliest ANZAC's to leave Australia with the First AIF in November 1914. The convoy was assembled in the Princess Royal harbour and King George Sound at Albany WA. Before embarkation, at four in the morning, he conducted a service for all the men of the battalion. When White returned to Australia in 1919, he was appointed relieving Rector of the St John's Church in Albany. It was a strange coincidence that the starting point of the AIF convoys should now become his parish.

No doubt it must have been the memory of his first Dawn Service those many years earlier and his experiences overseas, combined with the awesome cost of lives and injuries, which inspired him to honour permanently the valiant men (both living and the dead) who had joined the fight for the allied cause. "Albany", he is quoted to have said, "was the last sight of land these ANZAC troops saw after leaving Australian shores and some of them never returned. We should hold a service (here) at the first light of dawn each ANZAC Day to commemorate them."

  • That is how on ANZAC Day 1923 he came to hold the first Commemorative Dawn Service.

As the sun was rising, a man in a small dinghy cast a wreath into King George Sound while White, with a band of about 20 men gathered around him on the summit of nearby Mount Clarence, silently watched the wreath floating out to sea. He then quietly recited the words: "As the sun rises and goeth down, we will remember them". All present were deeply moved and news of the Ceremony soon spread throughout the country; and the various Returned Service Communities Australia wide emulated the Ceremony.

Eventually, White was transferred from Albany to serve other congregations, the first in South Australia, then Broken Hill where he built a church, then later at Forbes NSW. In his retirement from parish life, he moved to Herberton where he became Chaplain of an Anglican convent. However, soon after his arrival (on September 26, 1954) he died, to be buried so modestly and anonymously as "A Priest".

White's memory is honoured by a stained glass window in the all Soul's Church at Wirrinya, a small farming community near Forbes NSW. Members of the parish have built the church with their own hands and have put up what they refer to as "The Dawn Service Window", as their tribute to White's service to Australia.

Reference http://www.defence.gov.au/army/

 


Notice: Microsoft has no responsibility for the content featured in this group. Click here for more info.
 ninemsn