SEE YOU ANZAC DAY
I didn't want to go
Some years ago now, about 15 -20 years after I'd got out of the army, I went into a men's wear shop in Turramurra. The guy running the shop was the radio operator from my platoon in Vietnam. Hale and hearty greetings prevailed, an exchange of telephone numbers, and promises to see you again.

He did ring again, just before the next Anzac Day march. "Come on, come to the march." I couldn't find an easy way to tell him that that wasn't my bag. No one would know me, anyway. I was a reo that had spent more time in the reinforcement unit than in 9RAR. I'd flown into Vietnam as a reo and been posted to 9RAR in country, then flown back out for discharge while 9RAR was still in country. The only 9RAR guys I could remember were the ones that had been in my section' plus a few from the platoon. As for the other platoons and even compaines, I'd never met most of those people. So I said' "I'll see" and left it at that. Except I told my wife.

"Why don't you go?" she kept saying. It was easier to just go than to explain that I didn't even know most of the guys. So I went.

That first trip into town for Anzac Day was one of the hardest trips I'd ever made. Talk about an emotional drain. The memories that came to me weren't all of camaraderie and mateship. It was the first time I'd confronted a lot of that stuff since some chopper pilot yelled name and told me to jump aboard during a resupply somewhere in the jungle a million years ago. But I got to the city and spent ages trying to find "my unit" amongst the thousands of old faces from the second world war and beyond. Eventually I found the Royal Australian Regiment (Right where they were supposed to be) and located a group of about a dozen 9RAR people amongst them. I was luckier than I thought I'd be, I knew about three or four of them. It wasn't long before I knew the others.

We all had a real friendly chat, a bit of a walk through the streets with (and I hadn't thought of this) people cheering from the barriers. This was naturally followed by a bit of a rowdy, fun session at the pub. After all, we had all shared a unique experience and we were mates.

I was really pleased that I'd been convinced against my better judgement that I should march on Anzac Day. And I haven't missed one since.

Over the years since that early trip into town, the number of people that come to the march have steadily grown. last year there was over seventy that marched and even more that turned up to the pub afterwards. There's heaps more people that I don't know there now - but they're all good guys, and no one minds that I didn't get a chance to meet them in Vietnam. No one minds that I think that I'm not "real 9RAR" but a reo. Those people that I do remember, and that remember me, it's great to see again, and those that I didn't know, I do now.

If this sounds like some one is trying to talk people who haven't marched into joining us at Anzac Day -you're right. I know that for some people it just isn't their bag. I also know how I didn't want to go the first time. But these days I look forward to seeing the old faces and meeting a few new ones. There's people there that want to see you again, and people that want to meet you.

See you Anzac Day ----- Ross Richard 9RAR

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