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THE ANZAC MYTH IS BURIED

They called us Anzacs
when it suited,
marching together
through Nui Dat's gates,
carrying on
Gallipoli's tradition,
spick and span
in Vietnam.

We stood together
in the sun-parched fields,
suffered as brothers
for the Anzac shield,
then the lies began
as you shuffled home,
to find yourselves
quite alone.

Chemical clouds
broken blokes,
deformed children
what a joke,
chemical companies
crooked smiles,
we'll be patient,
for a short bloody while.

Pontius Pilate hands
politicians wrung,
perverted justice
and buried the truth,
cleverly shifted
the burden of proof,
Agent Orange
what the hell is that?
It was safe,
that's what we said,
we're not quite sure
why your mates are dead.

Shattered lives
and rotten skin,
the plague of cancer
deep within,
spina bifida,
miscarriaged wives,
Do you think we'd tell Anzacs
deliberate lies?

John A. Moller
Whiskey Two Company RNZIR

 

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