Bert Farmer, my grandfather, answered the call to arms when he was in New Zealand, having gone to visit from Melbourne, Australia. He joined the New Zealand Army and was sent overseas...to be thrown into the hell that was Gallipoli, one of the early platoons sent into hell. Bert survived the bloody beaches of Gallipoli and went on to fight in Italy and France. He survived those war theatres, too.
He returned to New Zealand, met and married my grandmother. They had six children, four of whom survived to adulthood but whom he never saw grow up. Having survived the horror of World War I, he was killed seven years after in a freak accident at work.
Although we never knew him, he has gifted his descendants with various creative abilities, and these have carried on down through the generations to his great-great-grandchildren. We have photographers, singers, artists and writers...all a legacy from this man who, with his mates, fought to save both Australia and New Zealand from those wishing to rule the world by foul means rather than fair.
Thank you, Papa, I respect what you did as an ANZAC, and to all service men and women who have served their respective countries in various conflicts throughout the world...a toast, and your heroic sacrifice will never be forgotten.
Lest We Forget.