By Tomas ‘Paddy’ Hamilton

This town is still familiar, for I lived here long ago Gazing down Kelly St, the memories begin to flow

Wartime fighter pilots, gallant knights of the air Few would ever make that claim, they wouldn’t ever dare Bobby Gibbes

For twelve months, this place has been, the sum of all our fears But sadly, for many, it was their

I stand here this time each year, in the soft grey light of dawn To pay a silent tribute, to

They all called us “Chocos”, cause we’d melt in the battle’s heat Yet we were sent in harms’ way, when

I stand upon my lonely plinth, my eyes a stony gaze ‘Tis here I greet the morning sun, or watch

Commemorating the 10th anniversary of the unveiling of the RAF Bomber Command Memorial in Green Park London – 28 June

There’s a soldier’s memorial at the end of our street, from a war they claim we lost For 41 Australian

. PEOPLE RARELY SEE MY FACE. IT HIDES BEHIND A MASK TO FREE ME FROM ITS VACANT STARE, IS NOT

. Everything was surreal, the calm before the storm With G&T at Raffles and playing bridge till dawn They swept

We fought like ancient Spartans, with no shame or fear Amongst the tales of bravery, very few came near During

WE ARRIVED HERE MANY YEARS AGO, BUT NOW I STAND ALONE BENEATH THE MOUNTAIN’S SHADOW, IN THE HUNTER TOWN OF

Barney was a treasure, one of my great finds We met up in hospital, where they patched up broken minds

I first met Frank on Anzac Day and times of commemoration We both came to this great land, by way

YOU’RE A LONG WAY FROM THE WESTERN FRONT, THE OLD MAGPIE SAID  AS HE GAZED DOWN ON THE POPPIES, IN

The bells of peace, rang loud and long, 5 million lost in war  But the pandemic about to break, would

I knew Ernie for many years, until he passed away He related to me this story, late one ANZAC Day

I have little trust, in fate or superstition If religion is your soap box, it depends on what rendition I

He was just a lad when his luck ran out and he fell in mortal sleep While a world away