Cliffy Walsh
28-11-05, 19:09
My contribution to this thread begins before WW11, in the Pilbara of Western Australia. The authors name was Tommy Gray, he was an aboriginal stockman who joined the 2nd AIF at the outbreak of war. Tommy paid the supreme sacrifice in Syria. I found a letter to his aunty Didie Tink, on the Onslow rubbish tip in 1958. In this letter, was the following poem and I think it is the most poingant ode I have ever read. You must remember that in WW11, aboriginal people were not classed as humans, but came under the Flora and Fauna Act as species. For this man to write this is incredible. The poem was reproduced in a book called Nor'Westers of the Pilbara Breed, by Jenny Hardie.
CROSSES
Each life has it's crosses;
And a soldier gets his share,
From a trip across the ocean;
To that envied Croix De Guerre.
Theres the cross that's worn by heroes;
Who have faced the storm of lead,
Theres a cross when he is wounded;
And a cross when he is dead.
There are crosses in the letters;
From the girlfriend of his dreams,
There are crosses by the censor;
Far too many so it seems.
And theres the cross thats worn by women;
When we see it we believe;
We can recognise an angel;
By the red cross on her sleeve.
Pte T Gray WX 7805
CROSSES
Each life has it's crosses;
And a soldier gets his share,
From a trip across the ocean;
To that envied Croix De Guerre.
Theres the cross that's worn by heroes;
Who have faced the storm of lead,
Theres a cross when he is wounded;
And a cross when he is dead.
There are crosses in the letters;
From the girlfriend of his dreams,
There are crosses by the censor;
Far too many so it seems.
And theres the cross thats worn by women;
When we see it we believe;
We can recognise an angel;
By the red cross on her sleeve.
Pte T Gray WX 7805