ANZAC Day

There was a time when the young soldier gazing directly at me from this photo was the only father I knew. I was taught to love him and be proud of him because he was my Daddy.

The scene is Christchurch, some time in the (southern) winter of 1940. He was one of a large number of men marching in parade to the railway station on Moorhouse Ave. They were taken by train to the Port of Lyttelton, and from there a ship took them to the Pacific Islands. We were lucky. Dad came home.