We're the Diggers... Dig It?

It’s the end of the line for you sonny boy!
So you want to walk alongside your grandpa at the ANZAC Day parade. You’re proud of him and he’s proud you’re proud. He loves that you care, that you want to hold his hand. By God, he’d rather hold your hand than those cold metal bars on his walker.
Well... sorry Grandpa, sorry kid. The powers that be (in this case the NSW branch of the RSL) have decided that descendants can no longer walk with their beloved diggers. They’ve been banished to the back of the march.

You know, growing up all I ever heard from old fellas was what a bloody shame it is that the young people of today don’t care.
“They have no respect” was the catch cry in many an RSL and pub across Australia.
Well, a lot of young people these days do care. But the diggers feel they are being swamped by descendants marching with their unit groups.

There’s a part of me that can understand that. They are the ones who fought. They are the ones who saw the blood, the bullets, the dead friends, the unimaginable horror.
But does the inclusion of proud relatives really take away from the diggers?
Come on, we’re not stupid. We can distinguish the war veterans from the young relatives. It’s pretty bloody obvious that 10-year-old Johnny didn’t fight in WWII and that 20-year-old Susan wasn’t a nurse in Korea. But maybe they want to be reminded what it was like for those who did; for soon they will be the only ones left to keep the memories alive.