Between the crosses, row on row,

The well-known opening words to John McCrae's poem "In Flanders Fields" strikes a chord at the heart of almost every Australian.

A fundamental pillar of Australian culture, the Anzac legend still stands as amongst the most profound in our history.

It is laid into the very bedrock of the Australian identity, each of us holding unquestionable reverence for those who fought to protect us.

This poignant respect reaches further than the original ANZACS. Each year we remember the valiant Australian men and women who fought in all theatres of war; from The Boer War to more recently in Afghanistan, Syria and Iraq.

In our lives today we often take our freedom for granted. In between work, looking after kids, and general life, it is easy to forget the enormous price that those who fought for us paid.

Anzac Day gives us a chance to remember this sacrifice, and reflect on the incredible and terrible events which have occurred through our history which have nonetheless been pivotal in forming our national identity.

The Monaro has seen its share of sacrifice. Every year we remember the likes of Cooma's Ernest Corey who was awarded the Military Medal for his heroic deeds, or the countless nurses that risked their lives to care for wounded soldiers on the front lines.

I would also like to take this opportunity to pay tribute to the service women who selflessly served their nation in our hour of need. We should also take time to remember the families and those at home who held this nation together.

The power that Anzac day holds over our collective identity lies not only in unfathomable loss and national pride, but also the fact that these feelings are shared by us all at services each year, we feel our hearts swell with pride with those around us at the sound of the Last Post.

Just as we honour those who sacrificed themselves for us, so too do we honour the Australian identity that we share.

We remember them not only for their sacrifice, but also for ourselves.

To conclude;

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.