I spent my childhood living on Army bases, Friday nights at the officers ‘mess hall’ eating packets of crisps (that’s what my Dad called chips) and running around under the bright lights of the tennis courts chasing cane toads.
Yes, I’m what we call ‘an Army brat’…the child of an Australian Army serviceman.
I wasn’t born to a serviceman, nope the man who fathered me was a drunk weak man who took off when I was just six months old.
He told my mother he was off to buy a packet of cigarettes then phoned her later in the day to say he was going fruit picking. That was the last I saw of that man until I was in my late teens. Certainly no hero!
Thankfully only a few months later my ‘Dad‘ came into our lives. He was a man with his own demons who nursed a tortured soul but he was a good and kind man who welcomed a woman with two kids into his life. Marriage soon followed and together they had a son and we were a family.
My Dad joined the British Army at thirteen to spite his officer father who had berated him for not saluting him. Thirteen!…it’s so bloody young isn’t it?!
Of course he lied about his age and in the mid 1940’s he was given a uniform and a weapon and he saw and did things men won’t speak off…because they can’t.
Actually he did open up once, a sliver of history…a glimpse. He told me he broke his ankle parachuting into water and spent a week alone and waiting for help.
I don’t know geographically where he was but it was war. Wars rage all over the world, some small, some big, but all so bloody devastating in their own way.
As kids we always attended the ANZAC dawn service, living in Army towns meant it was mandatory. They were always filled with military pomp and ceremony but also always eerie and moving.
Dad would shine his black dress shoes to a mirror finish and starch his military dress uniform so that his collar was stiff and creases sharp. Then, he would steam his slouch hat, a hat he proudly wore for a country he wasn’t born into. The Brasso would come out and he’d buff his medals for what seemed like hours.
I wonder what thoughts swirled in his head as he polished his medals? Who he was missing, whether he had regrets or whether he had any happy memories.
War is gory and insidious and certainly not anything to glorify but for the men and women who serve it’s also about honour, pride, survival, those passed and mateship. This is what we commemorate.
Mateship is what keeps them going and gives soldiers strength. Mates are who they mourn, and also who they turn to remember…or maybe to forget.
A dawn service for me was about the men and women in uniform, my Dad shouting the call to arms, cannon fire and rifle salutes. There was the bugle as it played the last post and the collective click of heels as mirror finish black shoes on the feet of serviceman clapped together and salutes were given.
It was the flame atop a monument, the glow as the sun rose, rain (always raining), numb fingers and noses from the cold air and the welcome thermos of milo after the service.
Dawn services were about seeing my Dad come alive, he was a very introverted man who didn’t give much away but on days like ANZAC day his barrel chest was puffed with pride, his eyes glistened, he was handsome in his full dress uniform and he smiled with his mates.
Today I attend Dawn Services and while I don’t have my Dad’s medals I do have those childhood memories and the pride that comes from being an Army brat.
This morning our service was near the beach and as I listened to the service I could hear the ocean lapping and crashing and I thought of my Dad parachuting into water and how brave and bloody shit scared he must have been.
I thought of what led him to be a soldier and the stupidity of family and his Father who couldn’t find it in his war hardened heart be a Dad to his boy.
Instead he pushed his only child to a life of bloodshed, fear, pride, honour and mate ship.
I thought of all who had held a rifle or sailed on a ship, huddled in a trench, been in combat, returned home forever changed…and those who would never return home.
I also thought of those who were currently on tour far away from family and friends and the Army brats around the country missing their parents.
War is awful and I wish it never existed, that we could co exist peacefully…wishing doesn’t change the truth and the reality of our society though.
To my Dad who fought and was changed forever I say ‘Thankyou‘, for what you went through, all that you saw and endured, and Thankyou for finding your way to me.
I wish your Father could have been a better Dad and I wish you had told me you loved me but I know why you couldn’t…because you never had that and because war changed you.
Thankyou to all the service men and women who ‘have served’, ‘are serving’ and ‘will serve’. Thanks also to the families who support them, miss them and care for them.
My Dad passed away twenty years ago, and today I miss him. I’m going to make a strong cuppa (just the way he liked it) and enjoy a biscuit, rosemary Anzacs.
What’s your memories of ANZAC day? Do you attend a dawn service?
Lest we forget.
Til next time,
Jen x
Sam says
April 25, 2015 at 10:17 amThat was beautifully written Jenni….as usual.I too rose early with my number 1 son to attend the service in the city.The Last Post always gets me too…takes me back to my Grandpa’s funeral where it was played as well.Now I am tucked back in bed to catch up on some Zzz’s and defrost
Lest We Forget
Jenni says
April 25, 2015 at 10:23 amWhat a lovely memory you have given your son today Sam, enjoy your snooze x
Sammie @ The Annoyed Thyroid says
April 25, 2015 at 10:35 amOh Jenni, I love the way you write, it’s as if you transport me back to the days with your dad. Such a beautiful post and a heartfelt tribute. PS I call them crisps too. That’s the proper name for them! 🙂 xx
Jenni says
April 25, 2015 at 10:38 amHaha, my Dad was from the U.K. and had some unusual names for things. He passed away 19 years ago and I miss that x
Jacki says
April 25, 2015 at 10:51 amWhat a wonderfully moving tribute to your Dad I had a lot of relations in the British Armed Forces so can relate to his Story from them. Also I call call Chips Crisps because I’m a Pom 🙂
Jenni says
April 25, 2015 at 11:10 amThanks Jacki, yes my dad was in the green berets and British army for 26 years and in the Aussie army for 20 years. He loved serving both countries x
Barbe says
April 25, 2015 at 11:05 amBeautifully written Jen. I can feel how much you miss him today xo
Jenni says
April 25, 2015 at 11:08 amThankyou Barbe, it’s always a day of reflection on ANZAC day. On a brighter note, how proud are you feeling today?! 🙂
Annette says
April 25, 2015 at 11:15 amSuch a beautifully written, emotion laden post Jenni.
Thank you for sharing it today.
Here’s to the sweet memories you have of your beloved dad, may they comfort you always. xxxx
Jenni says
April 25, 2015 at 11:22 amThankyou Annette, our servicemen and women are special people. ANZAC day is always a reflective day peppered with beautiful memories.
kim says
April 25, 2015 at 12:36 pmAll I can say Jen is write a book…..you have the gift of keeping your reader’s attention. . Well done.
Jenni says
April 25, 2015 at 3:09 pmOh thankyou Kim, what a fab compliment xx
Bec @ The Plumbette says
April 25, 2015 at 1:42 pmI got goosebumps reading this Jenni. Gosh what an interesting family history you have, but one to be proud of. How amazing your dad must have been, but how brilliant are you to understand your dad despite him never telling you he loved you. I have no doubt he loved you. Enjoy those Anzac biscuits. xx
Jenni says
April 25, 2015 at 3:12 pmThanks Bec, I sure had an interesting childhood , very warped too I think I’ve turned into an ANZAC biscuit I’ve eaten so many this week
erin says
April 26, 2015 at 10:27 amA beautiful post Jenni. I’m so glad you have such vivid memories of your Dad.
I visited my Pop yesterday. He served in WW2 and at 89, sharp as a tack, can remember it all.
Thanks for sharing my recipe xxx
Jenni says
April 26, 2015 at 10:40 amErin I’ve made your recipe twice! Live the addition of Rosemary. I bet your pop loved seeing you too, that’s special to have that moment x
Gael - The Vinyl Edition says
April 26, 2015 at 2:48 pmThank you for such a thoughtful, memory-filled post, Jenni. I have to be honest, although they are well-intentioned, I started scrolling past all of the copied, cut and pasted Anzac tributes on social media yesterday. Today I have read three great posts, full of personal or related memories and full of ‘thought’. Yours is one of them of course. Thanks for a great read Jenni.
Jenni says
April 27, 2015 at 5:52 pmThanks for reading Gael, so pleased you found a few beauties to read x
merilyn says
April 26, 2015 at 4:21 pmso poignant and beautifully written jen!
I need tissues!
my dad was 17 when he joined the navy ww2 he served on an ammunition ship
and went to PNG Milne bay and is still alive! … he will be 90 this year!
you might like to look at this sight jen and write up something about your dad!
http://www.rslvirtualwarmemorial.org.au/
I did for my father and grandfather!
love m:)X
Jenni says
April 27, 2015 at 5:50 pmThanks M I will take a look. My Dad was in PNG too
Anita says
April 30, 2015 at 9:08 pmA beautiful story Jen. I love hearing about army families’ experiences. There is a bond between us even though we may never meet. I can’t explain it, but it’s real and its loyal. As an ‘army wife’ married to a wonderful military man for over 26 years now I say a big ‘thank you’. We have 2 army brats of our own, move every 2-3 years and they have never missed a dawn service and ANZAC day commemorations. This year was very special for us as family gathered from interstate and we all attended a big day in Melbourne…dawn service, parade, footy and dinner afterwards. BIG day but so very special. Here’s to your Dad, my husband and all those who did so much, do so much, serving this wonderful wide brown land of ours. Go army brats! Ax
Jenni says
April 30, 2015 at 9:49 pmAnita that sounds like a super fabulous ANZAC day! You’re right, there is a bond, I can’t help but feel proud and ‘connected’ when I see a man in uniform or an army truck on the road. Bravo to your hubby for all that he does and to you for supporting him behind the scenes x
Lisa mckenzie says
April 25, 2016 at 7:19 amThat is a beautiful tribute to your Dad Jenni,my grnFathers were in the 2nd world war but both have passed away a while ago but I like looking at the photos of one of my grandad in his uniform,he never spoke about war and I never asked him
,I wish I had but maybe he wouldn’t have told me anyway,he was a quiet gentle man.
Anzac Day has a special meaning for us as well for another reason we moved into our house on Anzac Day 30 years ago,the house we built in the 80s and scrimped and saved for years for, so its a special day,remembering how far we’ve come.
Thank you for sharing your story Jen Xx
Jenni says
April 25, 2016 at 11:03 amI think our returned soldiers who have seen horrors have much to forget and much to live for.
As these men (our families and heroes) pass we honour and respect them by remembering them, especially on ANZAC day.
Sometimes I wish I knew more but what I do know is they went…they didn’t know what they we’re in for or if they would return but they went anyway and for our privileged way of life I’m grateful X
Sarah says
April 25, 2016 at 10:37 amA beautiful tribute and one that brought a tear to my eye because Anzac Day is all those things. For me, this is the most important day on the calendar and there is nothing that will stop me attending a Dawn Service to pay my respects. Even when I’ve been abroad and in an area that didn’t have a service, I got up to watch the dawn and pay my respects privately.
My Poppa served for England before relocating to Australia after WWII. My brother was in the RAAF for 16 years, where he met his now wife. I myself am a Reservist and on this day I miss my Army mates over in Perth. It’s a very special day. xx
Jenni says
April 25, 2016 at 10:59 amIt’s a social day Sarah, one laced in sadness and respect and a day we should never let fade into the background xx
Jules @ toddlers plus teens says
April 25, 2016 at 3:08 pmSuch a moving tribute to your Dad and so beautifully written . X
Darlene CurrY says
April 25, 2016 at 4:25 pmI love the dawn service, we live in a small country town but it’s always well attended. Last year my husband and I attended the dawn service in Martin Place Sydney and it was amazing. I always took my children to the ANZAC march and they marched all through their school years. They understood the importance of the day and what it was about. Today I took my grandchildren Nate 4 1/2 and Addison 2. Nate asked me why the children marched and I explained that it was to show respect to the soldiers that fought and the ones that died while fighting so w can have a safe life. He knows that my dad died and is in heaven so he has a bit of understanding. It was lovely to hear him explaining it later to someone else. His explanation of respect was being kind and nice to people. I love the way their little minds work. I know my grandfathers, and the mates they fought with would have had a proud moment in heaven today hearing him.
Jane says
April 25, 2017 at 3:14 pmHi Jen,
I always enjoy your words and feel a connection as our kids’ ages are very similar to yours (I was also lucky enough to have a little girl at No. 3)’.
I’m feeling proud of my No.1 son today, newly enlisted in Canberra and marching in his first official ANZAC Day. A little bit tears too, if truth be told ? x
Suzie Ross says
April 25, 2017 at 4:30 pmMy husband is ex- military and I have attended the Dawn Parade with him for the nearly 10 years we have been together both at home in New Zealand and here in our new home on the Gold Coast. Today was the first time Steve has worn his Dad’s medals as well as his own to a Dawn Parade. I have a huge sense of pride for him and the service he gave to the New Zealand Army as an officer in both the regular and territorial forces. He is very much a military man even though he is no longer a serving member of the Armed Forces.
Karen says
April 25, 2017 at 7:43 pmThat was beautifully written Jenni .. your dad would be so very proud of you . ?
Fiona says
April 25, 2018 at 8:47 amLoved reading your story, you had me wrapped around every word. We are the lucky country and I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like waiting a week with a broken ankle… oh the pain.
My grandfather was a hard parent to his children and raised his siblings tough. He lied about his age to serve in the war. My mum carried that toughness on in raising me and there was never a “ I love you”. Thinking of you today Jenni 😘🤗🏅
PamHill says
April 25, 2018 at 9:38 amWell said and moving Jenni. I have been lucky enough to visit Gallipoli and the Western Front in France, they are very spiritual places. Also the Death railway in Thailand. It’s hard to imagine what these brave men and women saw, felt and endured. As you talked about the service on the beach, I was taken back to the beach at Gallipoli. Lest we forget.
Pauline says
April 25, 2018 at 9:58 amOh Jen. That just left me in tears. You write so beautifully. I buried my dad last week. Thanks for once again sharing. You change the world every day just by being you
Brenda keane says
April 25, 2018 at 10:50 amOh what a beautiful story and I so recall those same army mess and officer mess times sitting on a chair with my lemonade and crisps and only speaking if spoken to
Sneaking down the stairs when there was a ball and we were tucked in soldiers bed meant to be asleep watching them
My grandfather and father were army men and my uncle died on the Kokoda trail
Thanks for sharing Jen xx
Jan Field says
April 25, 2018 at 3:57 pmI am also an army brat Jenni, and lived in the officers mess many a weekend given food to keep myself and my brothers quiet and unseen! My father was the Commandant of the Base and we were supposed to behave in a dignified way, as mini representatives of his role. He was strict and we were his mini ‘soldiers’, if he said ‘jump’ you never argued and just did it, and as a teacher today that kind of discipline is unheard of in families, unless abusive. I never saw it that way, and years later I learnt about PTSD and what it can do to otherwise loving people. I never learnt what my father personally experienced during the war, but from other stories I can only imagine, and therefore know why he was like he was. In his later years after retirement and with grandkids, I saw a softer side to him that I am glad I saw but at the same time sad that he lived such a tormented life. Thank you for sharing your personal story x
Sarah Smart says
April 25, 2018 at 4:57 pmAlways attend the dawn service wherever we may be , one of our most memorable in Broken Hill with a bagpiper piping up
On the hill , or Canberra at our Beautiful National War Memorial , all services special and poignant and always bring a tear to my eye and thanks in my heart ….. ps I’m a RAAF brat and proud of it xoxo
Carol fay says
April 25, 2018 at 7:06 pmThank you!