World War Two Nominal Roll  - NEW in 2002 The World War Two Nominal Roll was created to honour and commemorate the men and women who served in Australia's defence forces and the Merchant Navy during this conflict.This site contains information from the service records of some one million individuals who served during World War Two. You may search for service record details by specifying name, service number, honours, place of birth, of enlistment, or residential locality at enlistment. Once you find an individual service record you can print a certificate of service, if you wish. The best site to start your WW2 research

Australians @ War This a a really comprehensive site by Peter Dunn. Something of interest for everyone

Battle for Australia The Battle for Australia was a struggle never before envisaged in this country but yet much of it still remains unknown. It was a struggle that stretched our national resources to the limit; which saw the bombing of mainland Australia; the attack by midget submarines on Sydney Harbour; and raised the spectre of the threat of a possible invasion through Papua New Guinea.

Honours and Awards  (Index to Recommendations:  Second World War, Korean War, and Malayan Emergency) Database This database provides digitised images of the index cards to approximately 18,000 honours and awards made to Australians while on active service during the Second World War, the Korean War and the Malayan Emergency.

Beneath the Faded Word It sat out in the shearing shed for 30 years or more, With cobwebs, dust and binder twine, and sheep dung on the floor.  An old and rusted Lockwood kept its secrets from my eyes, A cabin trunk of leather there since 1945. I asked my dad who owned it and what we kept it for. He replied, "It's Uncle Basil's. that he brought back from the war. So don't you bloody touch it, or I'll tan your bloody hide. "But that only made me more intrigued to see what was inside. I wondered at its mysteries and the secrets that were hid. Near Wilcannia, where only hardy cattlemen will go. Uncle Basil had a station, Baden Park, near Ivanhoe, A strong and gentle man who once rode the 'Birdsville Track' Just to prove he wasn't hampered by the shrapnel in his back. So I stood alone and weighed it up: which would I decide, Should I leave the memories undisturbed or take a look inside?  I knew I had to take a look, to see what it'd hold. Medals? Spoils from the war - silver, jewels or gold? The old man went off fishin' of a Sunday with Bob Gray, So if I was gonna do it - that would have to be the day. I started out determined - I was done by half past two. With half a broken hacksaw- blade. I cut the padlock through.  But even as I opened it the truth was plain and clear. The old trunk held no gold or jewels, there was no treasure here. Just a pile of letters tied with string, an old moth - eaten flag. A rusty metal helmet. a mouldy webbing bag, A cup made from a jam tin,an  emu feathered hat, A newspaper clipping with the title 'Desert Rat'.  Some photo's of the pyramids - a rusty bayonet, An IOU - Jack Carmody - 2 quid (a 2 - up debt).  I folded out a faded map as the dav began to wane Foreign places like Benghazi, Tobruk, El Alamein. Then I came upon a satchel and a little leather book And a photo of some blokes - so I took a closer look It was twenty young recruits, their faces tanned and worn From places like Cohuna, Moama and Bamawm, Farmers. shearers. stockmen off to fight a noble war, For the empire in a foreign land they'd never seen before.  And scrawled across the bottom, in writing rough and coarse Twenty names below the words, the Echuca Boys - Light Horse. I turned the photo over, and there upon the back Were words that sent a chill through me, and made my  mouth go slack A solem list of triventy - the fate of each the same Every one but Uncle Basil had a date beside their name. Some said April '43, some said June / July, A record from our history, the date that each one died.  I turned back to the photo and looked in every face And written over each one was a month, a year, a place A grinning . sun-bronzed soldiers face, each now with a name Like November 1943, the words El Alamein. I wonder - did they think as they sailed across the foam That amongst them only one - Uncle Basil - would come home?  Recorded in that little book - an' I remember to this day - A record of their actions and how each had passed away. A mortar shell out on patrol:     A sniper in the night: A landmine took his legs off - he died before first light. The death of each was brutal, the reality was stark 40 pages written there, I finished just on dark. I slowly- closed that record of the men who'd kept us free And turned to see my father, standing, watching, silently,  He didn't do his block, as I expected that he would, He just said. "Come on pack it up. I reckon that we should" So with love and care we packed away the treasures from the past,  When I came upon the photograph - it was put aside till last. And with new respect and love - I recorded his fate. Next to Uncle Basil I wrote April '68. Yeah, Dad and I we packed it up and put it back again And  wrapped it in a bit of tarp, to keep it from the rain. We never spoke about it or discussed what we had read I reckon that was his way, to respect those blokes long dead. There's a statue of a digger in most every country town. And a list of names of locals, who fought with great renown, And now  when I go by.    I remember what I read Sitting on the floor out there, in our old shearing shed, And I think of Uncle Gordon, lost somewhere on Ambon, Uncle Jack on the Kokoda, and in England, Uncle John. I remember still that photo, with sadness and remorse, That mob of grinning faces, the Echuca boys, Light Horse. In a cemetery near Ivanhoe lies a bloke who left his mark, Basil Thomas of Echuca. Tobruk and Baden Park. Peter Thomas