The theme for this post is ‘Lucky’. Amy Johnson Crow of the 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks Challenge sets the theme; we choose an ancestor, and write their story. I could write about a lot of ancestors who may have had a lucky break, or were lucky to be in the right place at the right time, but one ancestor stands out from the rest.

Claude Ernest Claise Sneesby was born in September 1895, so he was just nineteen years old when he sailed out of Melbourne, Australia, on the troop ship HMAT Ulysses in 1914. Claude was heading for the war in Europe, just three days before Christmas.

Before the sun rose on the 25th April 1915, inexperienced young men were fighting for their lives as they scrambled onto the beach of Gallipoli, now known as Anzac Cove. Like lambs to the slaughter, thousands were killed or wounded on that fateful day.

Claude Ernest Claise Sneesby survived landing day on Gallipoli in that war-torn part of the world. And he spent months, or was it years, in cold, wet trenches, not knowing if he would see the sun set on that day, or rise on the next one. He wrote letters home to his family and he stretchered wounded mates out of danger to safety. He raised the bugle to his lips and sounded the Last Post for those that couldn’t be saved. There were times when he drank too much and became disorderly, and lost pay as recompense for his attempt to drown out the constant terror that surrounded him.

After four long years, Claude received a hero’s welcome home when he returned to Australia at the end of the war, but he never forgot that day in April when the ANZACs landed on Gallipoli. On the 25th April every year, Claude marched in the ANZAC Day parade through the streets of Sydney. He rekindled friendships with those who fought with him, until one by one, they stopped marching. He drank rum and beer at the end of the march to reminisce; or was it to drown the memories out?

In his late seventies Claude could no longer make the trip to the city to march alongside any remaining mates, or the veterans from other wars, so he watched the parade on television.

Claude never forgot the landing on Gallipoli on the 25th April 1915 when he was only nineteen, or the mates he lost in that place so far from home. And he never forgot how lucky he was to have survived the war and return home to those he loved.

Six weeks after his eightieth birthday, Claude Ernest Claise Sneesby’s heart stopped beating. My grandfather had served well, but his duty was done.

He was one of the lucky ones.