His name was Alexander Menzies Kippen. He left Brisbane as part of the 9th infantry battalion in September 1914.
He landed as part of the first wave of soldiers at Gallipoli. He survived. He survived the boat trip, the landing, the run up the beach, the digging of trenches and the below ground life that followed. He lived through the fear, the sweat, the grief of loss and managed to return home to build a life.
For that service, I am thankful. For Australia, I am thankful. I am grateful to the Turkish people for welcoming Australians (descendants of the Anzacs amount them) to their beautiful country in peace.
My mother has been on the Gallipoli peninsula and surrounds the last week. Isn’t it fabulous that Australians can go and pay their respects to soldiers of both sides of the Gallipoli conflict by travelling in safety and peace.
Tomorrow, on Anzac Day, I’ll have miniature replicas of my great grandfather’s medals on my jacket. To say thank you. You are not forgotten.
“They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.”