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Last Call
of the Bugle
- In Pusan there is hallowed ground
- A simple cross to mark each mound
- They brought us there from whence we died
- We lie together side by side.
- Our country's call, that bugle sound
- We answered. We were honour bound.
- They said the cause was just, you know.
- But then, was this not always so?
- Strange country and a stranger war,
- It made no odds - we knew the score.
- We were blood brothers, truth to tell,
- In valiant company when we fell.
- Seek not our grave, and do not weep
- We are not there. We do not sleep.
- The life we gave was ours to give.
- Remember this, and we still live.
- For like the tireless wind that blows,
- Chilled by endless northern snows
- Or warmed in harsher southern lands
- Of spinifex and desert sands
- Part of the sound of morning's hush,
- Kin to the swift demanding rush
- Of noisy flocks in searching flight
- As sunlight softens passing night
- We touch the fields of ripening grain
- Red cattle grazing sun-drenched plain.
- We span the forest, farm, to reach
- The towns and cities, ocean's beach.
- Long gone that bugle's strident blast
- We kept the faith, we were the last.
- Seek not our grave, weep not, nor cry
- We are not there. We did not die.
Jack F Gallaway, Radio Sergeant, D Coy., 3RAR, KAPYONG
"Last Call of the Bugle",
the book about Kapyong was published by University of Queensland Press in
1994. It included this original poem. ISBN
0 7022 2545 2
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