A couple of years back I submitted a short piece for an ANZAC Day competition. One of those 500 words or less type contests.Often the hardest thing to do is to be concise with the pen in hand. Anyway, here was my offering. Most are probably familiar with the characters through my other posts, but on the eve of ANZAC Day they hold a special place for me. Two Men, Two Wars and One Woman. Unassumingly, my mother readies her Bowral home for another ANZAC Day in her own quiet way. Photos of those who she has loved and lost sit atop the buffet as she pins her own medals in place for the solemnity of the Dawn Service. The tales that surround her special life from many years passed are numerous. Some told with humour, some with pride and some remain untold. She served as an Air Force radar operator in what was then a top secret realm. Weeks before her wedding, she received the dreaded news; her fiancée had been lost when his Beaufort bomber exploded over the New Guinea jungle. The year was 1945. Six years later as war raged in Korea, she met a fighter pilot bound for action. He had served in New Guinea as an Army Commando before being shipped to Hiroshima where he witnessed atomic devastation first hand. Destined for battle again, it was love at first sight. As he fought the battle in the air, she fought the paper war at RAAF Base Richmond where the names of those pilots killed would arrive on her desk. This time she was to be fortunate. Despite over 200 missions and numerous close calls, he would return and they would marry. This was very nearly not the case when he had the canopy of his Meteor jet blown off at extremely low level whilst searching for a downed comrade. Goggles shattered, oxygen mask askew and bloodied, he nursed his battered machine back to base. His Citations are inconspicuously glued into a now yellowing logbook. This is indicative of his attitude to his military service in latter years. Treasured but tucked away. ANZAC Day holds special significance for this veteran. Whilst there won’t be fanfare, she’ll arrange the flowers beside the framed pictures of FLTLT Francis Owen Smith and FLGOFF Phillip Zupp M.I.D. The men whose names I bear. By Owen Phillip Zupp Lest We Forget View attachment 1682 View attachment 1683
