Wartime...

Today Michael had to race into town to get milk powder (in case we got flooded in, so our calves wouldnt have to be weaned a month early!) so to keep myself entertained, I spent part of the day reading the Book of Mormon. I was reading about the wars and continual strife suffered by the population back then.

I then spent part of the day reading my latest book, which focused on PTSD suffered by those who have fought for their country. This led me to reflect, in particular, on the sacrifices made by the ANZACs (as Bugalugs is due on ANZAC Day, I thought this was apt).

We are so lucky to live where we do. We are lucky to have the freedom of choice to fight for our country and values if we so desire. I am grateful that we do not have compulsory military service enforced upon the up-and-coming generation. I am even grateful to have the government that we do (...wait, this is limited gratitude!) that allows us these choices. I am especially grateful that I have not been put in the position of having to defend my family, country, morals etc. with force.

Although, I would do it in a heartbeat if it were required.

It saddened me greatly last year, when we participated in the ANZAC Day Parade in Nambour, that the parade was relegated to the back-streets of Nambour, instead of the main street where it has been held for decades. There are so few of the original service men and women left, so why insult their dignity by doing this? Let them march in front of the citizens, let them wave to the littlies as they pass. They have suffered horrendous events, been witness to countless acts of war, lost buddies and, for many, they have lost their place in society due to limited understanding of PTSD 'back in the day'.

My great-grandfather was one such man who no longer 'fit' with society when he returned from the war. No one understood. Eventually, he moved into the bush and lived by himself, even though he had a wife and children at home. What an awful thing to endure!

My Dad was almost sent to the war due to conscription. He had a similar viewpoint to my own. We would never go and 'sign up', but when forced we would do what is necessary. Dad didnt end up going, but in his mind that was a shame, I supposed you'd say, as he was mentally geared up to go and fight, to kill, or to be killed. He has often told me stories about after the war, when you could tell who had fought for our country by which men hit the deck when a car backfired on the main street of Nambour. (It sounded similar to gunfire) How incredibly sad.

Since being married, I have often thought of the troubles of the world, and have considered the options available to us if conscription was enforced. My husband is a gentle soul, and being in a war would destroy him. I know it. I feel, if it came down to it, I would go and protect our home. This would not be my first choice - I would rather not be involved. But if it came to the crunch, I would gladly go to spare my husband the horrors of war.

At High School, I was a part of a large group of friends. There were more than 15 of us. Of those, ALL of the men enlisted in one of the defence forces. We are proud to be Australians. I am grateful that, so far, none of them have served in active duty outside of Australia.

We live an insulated life. War is something on the TV, or in a book, or it is the background to stories told by grandparents.War is not 'real' in our life in Australia. We are blessed to live where we do and to have the choices we have. May we learn from the lessons taught us from the past. Lest We Forget.