They gather as they had in days of old, in the cold, weak light of dawn, when the sun is barely above the cusp of the horizon, to remember old friends, old mates, in a ceremony replete with significance.

Then, the march, conducted without pomp or ceremony: old war horses and war wounded, those who have been through wars and lived to tell their tales, heads held high, voices silenced, united in their shared experiences, united in their belief. Though separated by years and time and often geographic distances, they share this, the one day of the year, where the community gathers with them and says: “We understand. And we thank you.”

Anzac Day, April 25th, 2006.

Pakenham Street, Fremantle, April 25, 2006.