The last sentence of the
The last sentence of the last post reminded me of another time at the bar. On ANZAC Day 1976, as a new Lieutenant, I stood at the bar with two old and bold soldiers. The mess concerned was the Officer’s Mess of 9th Battalion, Royal Queensland Regiment. This Battalion was the first to land at Gallipoli and these two men were the first from the battalion. They argued over who was the first between them as they drank beer with rum chasers, as you do in Queensland. They were both taller than me, both had been awarded the DCM (Distinguished Conduct Medal for bravery – one step below the Victoria Cross), were in their eighties and were drinking me under the table. I had to skip the chasers and acknowledge ” You’re a better man than me, Gungda Din”.