Honouring the Heart & History of Anzac Day

As Anzac Day rolls around, we find ourselves not only honouring those who made the ultimate sacrifice, but also those who came home forever changed—and those who stood waiting, hoping, and holding families together while they were away.

In my own family, Anzac Day is always deeply personal. It’s about remembering my grandparents, Arthur and Joan, who lived through the unimaginable and carried on, building a life after war. Their story is one of quiet bravery, love, resilience—and the kind of grit that deserves to be shared.

Pop (Arthur) was just 20 when he volunteered to serve in WWII. He married my grandmother on January 2, 1940, and three days later—on the 5th—he was gone, heading off to war. She wouldn’t see him again for 5 years.

To his mates, he was “Doc” and “Blue.” He served as a medical orderly and engineer with the Sixth Field Company, NZ Engineers. They had a pretty dark sense of humour—these were the guys who could blow something up and patch you up in the same day.

It wasn’t until decades later that our family learned just how far his dedication went. We found an old newspaper clipping tucked away in a box—a classified ad in the Evening Post, dated September 10, 1941. It read:

“Relatives of Sapper A. P. Plowman, write T. F. Clunie, Paraparaumu.”

Turns out, the Clunie family had something to share. Pop had saved their son’s life, carrying him across the desert for three days after he'd been shot. Pop used whatever bandages he could find—his own and others’ Red Cross kits—to stop the bleeding and keep the wound clean. Sapper Clunie survived, and the Clunie family never forgot it. Neither do we.

But Pop never mentioned it. We only found out because of a commendation letter from King George, quietly tucked away in a sock drawer. That was just who he was.

After Egypt, Pop went on to Macedonia, then to Greece—where he played a part in blowing up a key bridge at the Corinth Canal. Two tonnes of gelignite later, he was captured by German forces and held as a POW for four long years.

He wasn’t exactly a model prisoner.

Pop tried escaping multiple times—once even digging a tunnel with a spoon along with others to free a group of prisoners (including himself). Every time he escaped, he was recaptured and punished. On one occasion, he was told point-blank that if he tried again, he’d be shot. And still, he kept his spirit.

Back home, every letter sent to him was returned marked “Missing in Action, Presumed Dead.” But Nana never gave up hope. And in December 1945, her faith was rewarded - Pop was found alive and finally came home.

This Anzac Day, we remember not only the ones we lost, but also those who carried the weight of survival. Their courage echoes through our families, our communities, and the freedom we have today.

Lest we forget.
Lynnette