ABOUT THE TOWN

Chronicle (Levin), 24 August 1946, Page 3

ABOUT THE TOWN

i SHANNON SIDE-LIGIITS They shall not grow 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 shall remember them. The day dawned , on Thursday, August 15, and we r'emembered our dead and as the sun went down we again remembered them. So great was our memory that eighteen of our citizens saw fit to attend a public meeting to arrange business in connection with the erection of a memorial to our fallen heroes.

Shannon's patriotic effort was something to be proud of, and now that most of our men have returned, have we forgotten those who will never return? Is it too much to ask of us to give a little of our time and money to proyide a fitting memorial to those who gave their lives? A representation of eighteen from a district of between 800 and 900 is not showing a true Anzac spirit. It is the duty of every citizen to make a memorial hall a fact and not another of " our daydreams. Our surrounding towns have set an example; it is up to us to show that we too, honour our dead. There is no sound where battles raged, and guns Deep blasted rock and sand at

Alamein, Where fri'end fought foe, and blood of - Anzac sohs, Dyed deeper red the desert sands again. Will they forget those days of burning- heat, Of flies, of Stukas' screaming dives, and nights That echo still of blast and charging feet, Where steel met steel upon Ruweisat's heights? Grim mem'ries from the scattered warring stocks, Of life dear spent in battle's bloody heat, Of with'ring flre from *" dark Kaponga Box, Of comrades whom they never more will meet? Dust devils dance across the southern sands, Bl'ack beetles crawl amid the rusting shells, A stillness only sped by nomad bands, j And quiet tinkle of the camel's ] bells. The drifting sands creep softly o'er the fields, Slow seeping jnfeo., ruts where [ wheels once rolled, - iThe gaping wounds and shattered limb's are healed, An Eastern sun still sets in skv of gold, Now that the glory of battle is gone, let us not forget those who rest the last rest under a cross of white in a far off land.