Cannons, bombs and bullets,
mark battles won or lost.
Shattered lives, torn and scarred
are left to count the cost.
No matter what the cause may be
or where the fault is found,
tears are shed on either side;
a haunting, mournful sound.
For those behind the trenches,
brave soldiers just the same.
Our Doctors didn’t hold a gun,
nor did they seek to blame.
They battled hard against the foe
with scalpel, skill and care
and always made us very proud,
no matter when or where.
There was one, a country lad
of sporting strength and size
with a sense of purpose,
compassionate and wise.
In Nineteen Thirty-Nine
our country was at war.
A surgeon he became
and joined the Army Corps.
He served on distant lands
where war was far away,
but this was soon to change
when Tojo joined the fray.
Curtin saw the peril
and called them home by sea.
With danger ever closer,
the worst was yet to be.
‘Weary’ and Our Doctors
now prisoners of war,
held captive by a foe
they’d never seen before.
Through jungle, swamp and rock,
a railway line was built.
Their captors showed no mercy
without a shred of guilt.
Pushed beyond exhaustion.
Torment laid on so thick.
Worn down to skin and bone
and forced to work when sick.
Death, disease and torture
loomed over night and day.
What those men endured
no words could ever say.
Our Doctors gathered ‘round
perfecting all they knew,
with dwindling supplies
but plenty of bamboo!
They did their level best
to stem the soaring rate
of weak and dying men
succumbing to their fate.
We’ll not forget Our Doctors
who faced a dreadful time.
So many lives were lost
along that wretched line.
They rose above the madness,
attending to their men.
We honour all who suffered
through brutal days back then.