By Michael Shave

A man remembered, Peter Bunn; In those days vigorous, full of fun. While we ‘The Company’ gain in skill (Training

I stand beside these rank, grassed, mounded piles of soil ‘Neath which the mouldering dead lie in repose. Their type

Read Par I to III here And so in frenzied lust it ends, the killing; Vengeful hatred why they fought.

Describe a successful ambush to me, please: Teutorburger Wald (Part one) Caesar cries. An anguish riven home By news that

There is a soldier whose actions in Afghanistan are being investigated. A helmet cam of him shooting an apparently unarmed

As a gathering of Infantry Veterans meet in the Australian capital to commemorate their Battalion’s participation in the Vietnam War,

A certain Australian Infantry warrant officer, a notorious recruit drill instructor, on arrival at Tan Son Nhut airport for war

Soldiers do as they are told, It isn’t fair that when they’re old, Those well trained men (and so well led)…

It is good to be proud of your service, Remembering what you have done. The trials and the tribulations, The

Comprised of three battalions and veterans every man, The brigade we sent from Moratai to occupy Japan.

I once killed a man briefly – for eternity.But first I watched him: He is untangling a vine that stops his progress. Engrossed.

November, many years ago, In youthful number, innocent; National Service trained then sent Them off – to Vietnam they went.

When I was posted at Duntroon As C.S.M of ‘weeds and seeds’, Its grounds I’d walk each afternoon, Reflecting on

When I was stationed at Enoggera, as a young platoon sergeant with 9RAR, a Merino ram was offered, and accepted,

‘Twas a bitter morning, With wind, icy hale, and snow. One’s fingers too cold to do buttons up. If you’ve served at Carlisle you would know.

On the retrospective prosecution of soldiers. Wring your hands and drape the bell. We’re looking at another one. We’re sending him to hell.

On 15 January 1959 I enlisted into the Army as a boy soldier. The weather was bitterly cold and I

I cannot help smiling whenever I recall my youth as a boy soldier, when bullying was practiced as an art form for ‘character building’.

I have often railed against DFDA believing those who promoted it in effect laid down the bed from which has grown the Brereton Report.

Lord Cardigan led an army Which he dressed to look right smart. So that even if they could not fight They’d damned well look the part.