Now it’s time for a bit of family history. The only thing I love more than Anzac biscuits are the Anzacs themselves. Most Aussies have a relative who has served in a war or two. And I’m no different.
My great-grandfather landed at Gallipoli in 1915 and my old man visited in 2015. They both got pretty wounded – one physically, one emotionally.
My great-grandfather was injured by a Turkish hand grenade and carried a piece of shrapnel in his head until he pulled the pin himself in the 1970s. Dad reckons the metal in his head didn’t affect him greatly, ‘except that when he pressed the roller door button he would occasionally shit himself’.
William Gerald Cummins was a tough old bastard who came out from Ireland on a steamship at 13 years of age and shovelled coal to pay his fare. His brothers and sisters were either priests or nuns or members of the IRA.
He joined the mounted coppers at an early age and was chasing bushrangers until he enlisted in the Light Horse in 1915. The Ninth Light Horse was sent to Egypt to train as infantry for the attack on Gallipoli. Along with a few of his mates, he picked up a nasty rash in his nether regions in Cairo. She must have been a good sort . . .
He survived Gallipoli and was sent to a hospital in London by ship. At least he wasn’t shovelling coal this time, but I’m sure he wished he could have.
After his recovery, he was offered a chance to head back to Ireland. But he knew his brothers were going to be involved in the Easter Rising in 1916 and he was done with war, so he ended up back in Australia.
My great-uncle Dick was a real champ, too. During WWII, he fought in the Middle East and on the Kokoda Track in New Guinea. He would tell Dad how he fought and died in three world wars, which created some confusion at the time. He loved a blue and wasn’t keen on taking prisoners . . .
As a result of the family connection, both Dad I are big supporters of military personnel.
One night at dinner before a Western Force game, Dad was talking to trooper Mark Donaldson VC about his time in Afghanistan. This bloke has balls of steel and has written a great book about his life. Not to be outdone, the old man gave him a story of his own – to consider for Mark’s next book, maybe . . .
Dad told him about a battle in Vietnam – ‘30,000 against three,’ he said. ‘They bombed us, they shot at us, and they charged at us but still we held out. They were the bravest three men we ever fought.’
Needless to say, the old man thought it was funny; Mark Donaldson wished he had his gun . . .
Chin-up challenge with some locals in Rio. The prize was I got to keep my wallet. BTW, the dudes in the background aren’t holding hands, they just won a point . . .
Surprisingly, this isn’t the first time I’ve enjoyed the company of both a monkey and a snake at the same. But what happens on Mad Monday, stays on Mad Monday.