Like many Australians on Anzac Day, we find ourselves at services, marches, races or enjoying a game of Two-Up at the local, all while paying respects to those who gave us our freedom.
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But for Oberon's Bill Wilcox it's a day that will flood him with emotion for the rest of his life.
The RSL sub-branch president and Bathurst and District Vietnam Veterans Association vice president was enlisted in 1968.
He was only 20 years old when his birth date turned up in the 'lottery', as they used to call it, for young men to be conscripted to Vietnam.
"I wasn't hesitant to go because dad was a World War Two veteran and I was young and silly, and I thought it was a great big adventure doing the same thing dad done," he said.
Bill said when he ended up in Vietnam he didn't have a clue what he was fighting for.
"We were only kids, we didn't even know why we were there, it all seemed exciting until I got over there and realised what was going on and that's when it hit me," he said.
He makes his job in Vietnam sound pretty straight forward - he was a field engineer, in charge of checking villages, tunnels and bridges for mines.
In truth, his job was a terrifying one. Checking tunnels for Viet Cong was no walk in the park.
Bill would enter small tunnels, which were only large enough to fit a small adult, and crawl in, feeling his way along.
"All you had was a torch, a pistol and a bayonet. You had to be pretty careful," he said.
"You had to feel along and find mines. Often there would be booby traps and trip wires.
"Our job was make sure it was ok, that there was no prisoners, and then blow it up."
But it was the day the man landed on the moon that changed Bill's life forever and his extraordinary survival inspired the lyrics of the famous Australian song, 'I Was Only Nineteen' by Redgum.
It was July 21, 1969 when Bill and his crew of engineers received the message "We've got a job in the Light Green" from Corporal Dave Wright when they were headed back to their Nui Dat base.
"We got word that the Third Platoon, A Company, 6th Battalion, the Royal Australian Regiment had walked into a minefield and we had to go and rescue the soldiers and replace the engineers," he said.
Six in all, the men were winched in to the jungle, because there was no landing spot for the helicopter.
They faced a frightening scene as a hidden mine exploded, and before them the damp jungle floor was littered with bleeding men.
"We found out that Lieutenant Peter Hines had accidentally stepped on a hidden mine," Bill said.
Eighteen men had been thrown off their feet in an explosion of dust and blood. Lt Hines had used his dying breaths to instruct his men to complete their mine drill.
Faced with this scene, Bill and his team had the terrifying task of picking their way towards the wounded, while clearing a place for the helicopter to land.
"We found a marker on a tree with three prongs, which meant there were three mines," Bill said.
The men had already found one and safely destroyed it before the second hit them, leaving only one mine to find.
"We would make 'safe lanes' after checking with the mine detectors, so everyone knew where it was safe to walk," Bill explained.
It was here that Bill met Frank Hunt - or 'Frankie' as he is called in Redgum's famous song.
Frank had lost half of his blood and had two broken legs, but Bill helped load him onto a stretcher and he was lifted out.
It was this moment where a medical officer stepped out of a safe lane and directly onto the third mine.
The massive explosion flung the men in a shower of dust and shrapnel.
"All I can remember was landing on the ground," Bill said.
"I don't even remember the sound. But it made one hell of a hole."
Bill said the only thing that saved his life was the fact the mine malfunctioned - instead of popping up above the ground, it exploded below the surface.
He was flung 20 feet away and lay bleeding with 60 wounds to his left side. His hand and his knee were smashed.
"Only one spot on my left side was untouched, and that was where the battery pack for the mine detector I was carrying sat on my upper leg," he said.
"The funny part was I wasn't in any pain. I don't know if it was adrenaline."
The helicopter was full, but Bill was in bad shape, so he was strapped to the skid.
He said he remembers seeing the trees as he was flown over the jungle.
"And I was thinking 'If I'm not dead now, I will be soon'."
And it was a close call - Bill was read his Last Rites both on the way and in hospital.
He was in surgery for 18 hours.
"The first thing I remember hearing when I came to, was 'One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind'. They were replaying the moon landing in the hospital," he said.
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"It was pretty bad and I thought am I going to make this or not? But I fought and fought and I got through it."
On the 50th anniversary of the moon landing in 2019 Bill was actually in Vietnam to mark his own anniversary.
"I originally went to Vietnam in 2010 with a group of our guys and we found the exact spot in the jungle where we we got wounded and I always said I'd go back for my 50th anniversary because I probably would never get back there again, so I went back in 2019," he said.
"My great niece and great, great niece came with me and I was there at the spot where I got wounded on the exact day, the exact time 50 years on.
"It was mixed emotions being there, I didn't think I could go back but the other fellas encouraged me, and it gave us some closure."
Today, Bill's aching body is a reminder of his traumatic experiences in the jungle.
"I'm paying for it now though I've got bad legs, the toll has taken but it was over 50 years ago. They're a reminder that's for sure," he said.
Bill said his path of life was handed to him and he had to take it.
"It was a big part of my life, more or less it ruined my life. I trialled for South Sydney in football before I went and I was invited back for another trial game but I couldn't go back because I was going into the army, I guess it was meant to be," he said.
Despite his journey, Bill said it was his mates and the comradeship that came with being conscripted that got him through the worst time of his life and that's why he believes it's important to remember on every Anzac Day.
"I got a really good friendship with the guys over there, and it was okay until you start seeing the really bad stuff, it was an adventure because I was meeting people from all over the world," he said.
My path of life was handed to me and I had to take it.
- Bill Wilcox
"We had great times back at the camp, it wasn't all bad.
"But it's important to remember our fallen guys. I lost a lot of mates in Vietnam and one guy I went right through service with, he got killed over there and he was actually a cousin of mine from Bathurst.
"You've got to remember."
Bill has been facilitating and attending Anzac services for as long as he can remember and takes pride in the service that is held in Oberon each year.