I began drafting this post while watching 'Remembering Fromelles'. For those outside Australia and England, Fromelles was the first action that Australian troops took part in on the Western Front, World War 1, accompanied by a lesser force of British troops.
I have previously posted about the events of Fromelles.
Many of the dead were not recovered, being left behind in the German lines after the attack failed. The Germans, on re-taking their lines, buried the Allied soldiers they found there, in a mass grave.
The location of that grave was missed in the years after the War when the War Graves Commission were relocating other such remains to War Graves Cemeteries. It remained unknown until the efforts of amateur Australian archaeologists, particularly those of Lambis Englezos, who would not rest until the site was researched and excavated. Many of those remains were now identified and moved to a newly commissioned War Cemetary.
The last set of remains to be interred were those of an unknown soldier on the 94th anniversary of that disastrous battle (the brainchild of a British General who was as happy to slaughter 'colonial' troops as he was his own). That single coffin was placed on a restored WW1 horse-drawn carriage and moved on its last short journey to the new cemetery.
Along that short trip, groups of soldiers fell in behind the carriage, forming a procession.
Now here is where I get cranky. Near the eventual head of that procession was Prince Charles, his chest resplendent with all his medals for doing nothing during a brief peacetime service in the forces. I said the procession fell into step behind the carriage - all except Charlie Boy that is. He managed to be entirely out-of-step with everyone else. Striding out next to him was Australia's Governor General and she had no difficulty managing to march in step, but not our Chaz. Then the procession moved into slow-time, admittedly not always the easiest pace to do. But by now Prince Pratt looked like he was stoned while on a country ramble, gawking at the scenery, his hat flopping around in his hand.
Frankly, Chuck, if you couldn't be arsed even pretending to show a modicum of respect to both your countrymen and mine, then, please, just fuck off (yep - I am seriously pissed off).
And that, ladies and gents, is theoretically our next head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith, blah blah blah. If ever there was a need for an argument for an Australian Republic, look no further than the heir to the throne: all the brains of a maggot but not nearly as good looking.