Our soldiers fight and die in war
to keep us safe and free.
We hold them deeply in our hearts
no matter where they be.
When mateship’s forged by battle’s fire
the best of friends are made
till combat takes them way too young;
no graves mark where they’re laid.
Our Anzac tears were barely dry
when World War Two began.
A foe much closer to our shores
advancing with their plan.
They conquered ground at rapid pace
and brought a quick defeat;
our soldiers now held captive by
barbed wire and stifling heat.
From Singapore to Sandakan
aboard a hellish ship;
our soldiers, forced as labourers
would build a landing strip.
Those callous guards were ghastly cruel;
so keen to bash and beat
and worked our sick, exhausted men
without enough to eat.
The war raged on till ’45
but soon it would be won.
While Allies fought a weakened foe,
a nightmare had begun.
Our soldiers were now forced to march
where malaria was rife,
with biting ants and spikey plants,
in jungle thick with strife!
From Sandakan to Ranau
through treacherous terrain,
our soldiers’ feet sank down in mud
and slipped in drenching rain.
With waning strength they struggled on
up mountains steep in height.
No shelter, boots and sparsely clad,
they shivered through the night.
When health gave way to weariness;
no way to help your mate.
The blade or gun was swiftly drawn
determining his fate.
Starvation took its sickly toll
and bullets were not spared.
Most soldiers did not live to see
the joy with peace declared.
Some humble, caring villagers
stood firm and took them in;
our six surviving soldiers,
were shattered, sick and thin.
Sabahans knew full well the risk
but helped them just the same;
their kindness etched in bravery
but sought no wealth or fame.
When friendship’s forged by suffering
good mates cannot be crushed;
their voices are all silent now
and yet they are not hushed.
Whenever we remember them
and give each man his due
We show our soldiers great respect
and those from Britain too.