About Anzac—A beautiful story Poem – By Charles Schokman
ANZAC DAY … © Robert Dungey
Rocket walked into the rest home to see his dear old mum
On a Thursday evening, just like he’d almost always done
At least one day a week in any case ‘Mum I’ll get there if I can’
To look at him you’d never pick him as a ‘care for mother’ kind of man.
He got the name of Rocket cos his family name was Sienz
He was covered in tattoos…his face had ornaments of iron.
There were bits of metal everywhere…his brows his lips, his nose.
He had a purple Mohawk hairdo, wore mostly denim clothes.
As he walked along the corridor a door was open wide
An old man, sitting all alone was what caught Rocket’s eye.
He paused there in the doorway, he said….’are you ok old man?’
The old man eyed young Rocket off in a way you’d understand.
‘What’s going on with you young fella all covered in that stuff
You’re a wild looking bugger and pretty flamin’ rough.’
‘Don’t mind the way I look old mate….I’m here to see me mum
She’s Roma….Roma Sienz….up there in one 0 one.’
‘Well you can call me Bill’, he said ‘I’m a veteran of the war’
‘I served in several places up ’til 1944.
I’m bloody ninety five now, I’m running out of puff
I’m glad you said g’day mate, it doesn’t happen much.’
‘What about your family? ‘Rocket asked him with a frown
‘They never come and see me mate, they’re on the other side of town
But my grandson has made a promise that when ANZAC day is here
He’ll pick me up and take me to a service somewhere near.’
‘Do you reckon you would know mate, how important it could be?
To honour fallen mates who never got to live their life like me?
Side by side we fought……in mud and blood and tears.
We were all just kids then …full of courage…full of fear’
Rocket sat there on the bed and listened to Bill talk.
A tear was in the old blokes eye as again he took that walk,
That walk through war and tragedy that shaped his future life
And the heartbreak he endured when he lost his loving wife.
Rocket shook Bill by the hand and told him he’d be back
Probably next Friday …and they could have another yack.
He went and saw his mum then, they had their usual chat
Their easy Thursday evenings went pretty much like that.
The Friday Rocket promised became impossible to do
He was working out of town with an unfamiliar crew.
They got back in at 4 a.m., they’d been repairing power lines
They had to finish overnight and they’d got it done on time.
Rocket took a shower, and he wondered if old Bill
Was sitting in his room and waiting, for his grandson still.
Today was ANZAC day, and although he’d had no sleep
Rocket knew there was a promise that someone had to keep..
He jumped into his ute and drove straight to the home
And sure enough he found old Bill, sitting there alone.
He was kitted up in suit and tie, he’d pinned his medals on.
His shoes were polished shiny, his hair was neatly combed .
‘My grandson isn’t here, he let me down, he doesn’t care’
‘He did the same thing last year, I have no way of getting there’
‘Come and jump into my ute Bill…..and hang on bloody tight
When the service starts you will be there, saluting at first light.’
Bill took his place among the ranks… of the warriors of old.
He stood straight and proud…. although the dawn was bleak and cold.
He listened to the service, but his mind was far away.
He closed his eyes…. and watched old comrades pass…in his very own parade.
And when be heard the bugle play a tear ran down his cheek.
His thoughts were with departed mates, he didn’t need to speak.
He stood in silence for some minutes, he let the memories flow through.
Then he turned and walked away, there was no more left to do.
Rocket put his arm around old Bill and walked back to the club.
‘I’m gunna shout you breakfast mate, then a couple in the pub.
Bill grabbed Rocket by the arm….he said….’Son make no mistake’
‘Anywhere and anytime….I’d be proud to call you mate.’
LEST WE FORGET
I wrote this poem after recalling how my wife had come home from her work
at a retirement home some years ago. She was somewhat distressed and very angry.
It was ANZAC day.
A long time resident, a fully fledged return soldier had got up at 4.a.m., showered,
put on his suit, and pinned on his medals. ……and waited for the family member
to take him to the dawn service…… no one turned up.
He was heartbroken.
I was going to put this poem up on ANZAC DAY….but just on the off chance it causes someone
to stop and think about an elderly relative, who may be feeling the need for some company
and a kind word on the day I decided to go a bit early. Don’t let them be lonely.
