Stony finger, full of names, memories and granite,

Furnished with rings of green beauty one day a year,

Pointing to the sky showing a rising sun,

Unveiled in 1919 after the end of the ‘great war’,

Found where justice was once upheld,

Representing town’s residents who became part of something much larger,

A memento for the ones that remember,

Created for ones that will be remembered,

To display the courage, endurance, mateship of our soldiers,

Celebrating the names Anderson, F. Benham, R. Benham, Carlson, Clarke, Davis, Foster, Lyons, Matthews, Moffatt, Thompson, L. Turner, S. Turner, Waterson, Wiffen.

Who left in 1914,

Commemorating the names Baglin, Knight, McIlwraith, Martin, Peel, Wolf, Anderson,

Who left in 1939,

Recalling the support, resourcefulness, friendship of the community who laboured

Making sure all knew about the ones who never returned,

What about the ones who did return?

One would think with two sides covered none would be unrecognised,

One would think everyone had been commemorated,

But no.

Where is the name Gladys Patricia Bishop?

One girl born and raised in Drysdale,

Who served as a nurse posted in 3 different hospitals

On the West Coast of India

Daughter of George Bishop,

Who spoke the prayer when our memorial was raised,

The memorial with a 1: 21 ratio of women to men,

The memorial where the name of any women who served as nurses cannot be found,

Women who left and were forgotten by all except family,

During neither the first nor second bloodshed,

No boards nor honour rolls recognise their names or efforts,

Names are overlooked, unglorified, when nurses, signal people, drivers as well as soldiers all witnessed the horrors,

Then were forced to live with the tale.

There are bound to be others, the unknown, the unrecognised.

Men and women whose families are to wield their only recognition.

Our ANZAC men and women wouldn’t have been discouraged,

They fought or worked with unmatched strength and dedication,

Fuelled by their mates and family,

Channelling their feelings and their hope into what we call ANZAC spirit,

Not to get their names on a block of stone,

That is not reason enough to serve their country,

They served to build their country,

Creating Australia’s history through every piece of grit,

Every sacrifice,

Shaping who and what Australia would become,

And for that I am eternally grateful.

Every member of our community,

Each honoured and local ANZAC that left their home,

Unknowingly sharing a bond built stronger than any granite,

Mateship,

Comradery,

It is what helped,

Each squadron,

Each hospital,

Each wartime godmother,

Continue through hard times.

The knowledge that someone else was there,

A brother or a sister,

Holding a shared respect,

Supporting unconditionally,

My memorial, our memorial,

That so many go to each year,

Allows our Drysdale community to dedicate and remember,

To honour those who served and are serving,

To show all what our community contributed to the war,

Our town recalls our past,

Acknowledging all who gave up their regular lives to peace-keep and safeguard our future.

So this year, like the year before,

I stand before a cold obelisk showing names though I am filled with warmth,

I stand beside the next generation whose past carries them,

I stand in the presence of my family who’s ancestors served so that I could continue their legacy,

Our families who displayed mateship, bravery, kindness built by ANZAC spirit if nothing else.

In Memory of Drysdale soldiers.