Editorial: However you do it, remember

Dad hardly spoke about the war.

Nor did he actively take part in Anzac Day parades or spend time at the local RSA.

He preferred to keep his service medals (which he was justifiably proud of) in a safe place and talk more of the images he saw across Italy which were far from the horrors he encountered in combat.

The orange groves around Sorrento ... the sunny bars on the waterfront of Naples.

He didn't turn his back on the years he spent at war by any means, for on the wall in the hall there was the flag which had flown from his Sherman tank.

And he kept his beret, and sourced an extensive published history of his armoured battalion.

He marked some of the pages - especially the one which noted the death of his very good mate who lost his life to a shell which exploded above the tank's turret.

Mum once told us kids that had hit him really hard.

Just seconds before the shell exploded they would have been conversing loudly as the world went crazy around them that night.

And seconds later the conversations ended, forever.

He hardly spoke about the war for the very reason that it cost him friends and cost him time he should have been at home with his family.

He did not get to meet his first-born son until he was 2 years old.

I do remember, however, that on at least one Anzac Day I saw Dad fill a small glass with a tot of what I now assume was whisky, and have a drink.

Maybe he quietly toasted the loss of his best friend, "Duff"' Hewitt.

That was his way of acknowledging service and sacrifice, and in that respect it was important to him.

As it is to those who march and parade today.

What delights me when I attend the Dawn Parade is seeing the youngsters who arrive, wrapped up against the pre-dawn chill, who later stand quietly and focused on what is happening around them.

They take it in.

I daresay Mum or Dad gives them a run-down on what it's all about, and it's clear such a poignant and reflective event has an affect on them.

I spoke to a couple of young lads after last year's service and for one it was the first time.

But it would not be the last.

He said he would dutifully go again.

I asked him why and he simply said: "Because I think it's important."

It is important, for it is a day of reflection about an ingredient in human life which shows no sign of abating, despite the harsh "lessons" of conflicts passed.

People serve in the pursuit of peace and liberty, and people lose their lives.

Whatever way you choose to do it ... by attending a service or by simply raising a glass to "those who served" ... it is a recognition those who served earned and deserve.

As that little boy said - "it's important."