The ANZAC Spirit

Well, ANZAC Day has come and gone again for another year. It's amazing how much influence it has over an Australian soul. I never see it coming but every year, without fail, I wake up on the 25th of April and a flood of respect for the diggers who fought for my freedoms washes over me.

The feeling comes in different forms and isn't restricted to ANZAC day but it is particularly strong on this day. It's a top up of patriotism, a destroyer of selfishness and a realignment of priorities. It starts before sunrise with the sounds of a lone horn amidst a throng of thoughtful souls and continues all day with beer, two-up and heartstring pulling odes of spirit and unification.

I write this with a particular situation in mind. A situation along the road on my planned adventure. After journeying from Australia to Europe, I want to stand with pride on the battle ground of Gallipoli on ANZAC Day 2 or 3 years from now. It will be a moment to strive for, a moment to keep in mind when things get tough. I want to see where the ANZAC spirit comes from, see the land where it was forged and smell the air where so many of my countrymen wrote themselves into history. It's a young Aussies right of passage. Something that must, and will, be done.