And the band plays Waltzing Matilda,
And the old men still answer the call,
But as year follows year, more old men disappear.
Someday no-one will march there at all.
– Eric Bogle, And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda
Once again Anzac Day approaches. Once again I will board an aeroplane and fly to Sydney. Once again I will pin my great uncle Jack’s medals to the right side of my chest. Once again I will hoist the 463-467 Squadron banner high, and once again I will march.
But for how much longer?
I’ve been struggling to write about the future of the Anzac Day march – or specifically the future of my part in it – for several years now. At around this time each year I’ve grappled with it, starting something but failing to come up with a coherent argument. So I’ve put it off. Chickened out. Relegated…
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