Remember sitting ‘neath that tree? Frank, Les, Russel, me, Stankowski, Jim and **** Knight; Just chatting; Resting at last light.
The brew we shared, ‘twas passed around. As sprawled at ease there on the ground, Reflecting on the day - its highlights and the low. And in the gathering, peaceful quiet, and the dark, Each one of us The other learned to know.
Though Conscripted everyone, those men. And disparate lives from every shore. I think we realised even then (Whatever might the future have in store), That we existed as a special group - Three Section - And would be so ever more.
And in times to come, that future unbeknown. Dispersed; no longer bound by service life; But having once belonged and having shown Each one to all that secret place revealed by war, by ****** strife. The common ties then, wrought by wisdom Subsequently garnered through the years, Surely that must comfort and in part dispel the tears.
This was the group of men I served with both in Australia and South Vietnam. Of us all I was the only one who had not been conscripted.