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THERE IS A SCENE in one of those remarkable Damien Parer documentaries of the Second World War that sticks in my mind. Some young Australian soldiers are descending, in single file, a muddy jungle track, somewhere in New Guinea. As they swing past the camera, most do not look up, but one does. His eyes are resentful, rimmed with tiredness and he is, unmistakably, scared. Who would not be? He is just a kid, a long way from home, facing death with every step, yet he must push on, because there is no alternative. I hope he made it through.
Now, sixty years on, the last survivors of the war generation are going from us, one by one. The sacrifices they made won't be ...