21 April 2026
Every Anzac Day, we are reminded that the story of service is never just one story.
Every Anzac Day, we are reminded that the story of service is never just one story.
It belongs to the people who fought, to the families who waited, the children who grew up in their absence and the communities who held together. Today, at 90 years young and living at Estia Health Norah Head, Glenda knows that story well.
Born and raised in Collarenbri, a small town on the banks of the Barwon River in rural New South Wales, Glenda grew up during a time when the world beyond that quiet river town was shifting in ways few could have imagined. Her father was a road builder by trade. A hardworking man who built roads in the state’s Northwest. But when the call came, he answered, enlisting in the Air Force and stepping into a very different kind of duty.
Glenda remembers the day he left. During a rare visit home, a message arrived without warning: report to Sydney immediately. From there, he was transferred to Darwin, where he was placed in charge of keeping the airfields operational — a vital role at the very edge of Australia's wartime front line. What followed were four years in which she would see her dad twice.
Her mother, who moved them to Sydney, held the family together in Glenda’s father’s absence. That kind of strength speaks for itself. Childhood, even in the middle of all that, has a way of finding its own kind of wonder.
Glenda remembers being utterly captivated by the servicemen. Fascinated by their uniforms and the sense of importance. She would sneak out of the house, notebook in hand, to collect the autographs of servicemen passing through the city. Each one, a little reminder of her father.
Then came May 1945. Glenda was nine years old, standing in the school yard, when the principal stepped outside and changed everything with a single announcement — the war in Europe was over. The children were given the afternoon off.
Glenda and her younger brother set off for home, eager to share the news. They made their way to the usual place to wait for the school bus.
They waited. And waited.
The bus driver, it turned out, had heard the same announcement and had chosen his own way to celebrate, heading straight for the pub. And so, Glenda and her brother began the journey home on foot. A long, long walk. And the kind of memory that stays with you for eighty years.
For residents like Glenda, Anzac Day will always hold memories. And it is through them, we will remember.
