Last night over dinner I overheard multiple people having a bit of a whinge about how early they had to get up today to make it to their respective marches. Much of this would have been dependent on their destination (not always a choice) and mode of transport (again, sometimes not ideal). I tried not to laugh at the people who were all wah about having to get up at 0400 to be ready on time. Welcome to my life, I felt like saying.
I must say that I do feel a bit odd not attending any services today, on the day of days when it is quite acceptable to be fiercely proud of being a part of the military. I'm not sure if it can still be a point of pride that I actually worked this ANZAC Day, technically serving my country while everyone else was just out parading their gongs and dodging the rain.
Sure, I wouldn't have minded being part of a Catafalque party, if only for the chance to do drill with weapons again. After all, the only thing more satisfying than seeing a whole squadron's synchronised, snappish movements is seeing them done with weapons in hand. Nothing like 4.3kg of Steyr rifle to make you extra conscious of every move you make! I've had the bruises to prove what goes wrong when people don't pay attention in weapons drill, believe me.
I was initially on the list of people that were marching in Newcastle, but unfortunately the call was made for people to wear Service Dress 4A. This involves full Service Dress getup including the tunic with brass buttons, custom fitted and made, worth around $400, which I don't actually have. Not my fault, because I only just posted in and the earliest appointment I could make with the tailor to get a tunic was in May, and then who knows how long it takes to get these things actually
made and sent back to us!
So then I was shunted to the list of people that were helping out with the Gunfire Breakfast in the Airmen's Mess instead. A regular early shift starting at 0500, so getting to bed by 2100 was just par for the course last night. The only time I heard the Last Post was during some radio ads, I can't even remember what they were for. I barely saw the sun come up; only realised that it was light outside once we had a quick break after the breakfast services at around 0720.
After work, I found out that the Internets is down (or maybe it's just me?), so I thought it might be best if I just had an extra long shower (seven minutes - luxury!) and a bit of a kip out. I'm not sure whether this is pro or anti Australian in nature, hence why I was at a loss without Wikipedia to inform me as to how I can successfully get my ANZAC Day on, despite having not gone to any services, not drunk any booze, not touched any games of two up, or even eaten any of those awesome biscuits that probably have no connection to diggers at all.
To be honest, I think that despite getting around the kitchen in DPCUs (cams) and pumping out breakfast, lunch and bar snacks for the Kittyhawk Club, I felt slightly more connected with the so-called ANZAC spirit last year. I only attended the Dawn service and spent the day in mild contemplation, but I was a civvie back then, and relatively speaking, I think the significance of what I did was greater than what I've done today as part of le militoire.
Now I'm going to head back to my room and live it up in true Friday night fashion - decide between watching Full Metal Jacket or curling up in bed with a copy of Starship Troopers. I'm only mildly worried that the library on base had these shelved amongst documentaries and non-fiction respectively. I wonder what kind of perception of the
military one could get from just watching and reading the stuff that exists on base? I'm guessing it's just a good thing I'm already locked in, ey.
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