Admin Coy Coy 6 RAR 65-67
We have been advised by Ivan Killalea, that his brother Bill, a 6 RAR foundation member, has passed away in Greenslopes Hospital following complications from surgery intended to remove a large brain tumor. Bill's quality of life had declined markedly over many months as a result of the tumour.
Bill's granddaughter, Tracy Edington, is arranging the funeral which will be held as follow;
ALBANY CREEK GARDEN CHAPEL
ALBANY CREEK RD
THURSDAY 10TH MAY, 1330 HRS.
Those wishing to convey messages to the Killalea family should direct same to Ivan at firstname.lastname@example.org
Farewell Old Soldier
LEST WE FORGET
A Warrior’s Farewell
Go now and travel beyond the void
Seek the green column and when you meet
See once more those smiling faces
Hear again laughter and sounds of marching feet
No more the visions of the bloody past
Gone are the nightmares and lingering pain
Soon you will be home at long, long last
United with fallen comrades once again
And when the final roll is called
Another page of history complete
You will rest with brave spirits such as they
In a camp where you will find restful sleep
Go swiftly now and seek your past
Your duty done for all to tell
With pride of who and what you were
And now we bid you a fond farewell
George Mansford – December 2007
I saw the shooting star burning so bright
Falling, falling, fading and soon from sight
So distant and yet so near
In its wake, a soldier’s journey so very clear
Duty, sharing, caring, courage and sometimes fear
No longer a mortal in life’s short race
A contented spirit bound for home somewhere in distant space
This fiery trail I saw tonight marks a warrior’s farewell
Leaving behind another legacy of proud deeds to tell
George Mansford©April 2012
The Soldier stood and faced God,
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass.
Step forward now, Soldier,
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To My Church have you been true?'
The soldier squared his shoulders and said,
'No, Lord, I guess I ain't.
Because those of us who carry guns,
Can't always be a saint.
I've had to work most Sundays,
And at times my talk was tough.
And sometimes I've been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.
But, I never took a penny,
That wasn't mine to keep...
Though I worked a lot of overtime,
When the bills got just too steep.
And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear..
And sometimes, God, forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.
I know I don't deserve a place,
Among the people here.
They never wanted me around,
Except to calm their fears
If you've a place for me here, Lord,
It needn't be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand.
There was a silence all around the throne,
Where the saints had often trod.
As the Soldier waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.
'Step forward now, you Soldier,
You've borne your burdens well.
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell.'