My father was in Gallipoli in July 1915, then in France from 1916 till the end of the war. That is how he spent his 17-22 birthdays. Long term I do not think he ever settled down after that. He disappeared when I was 5 and Mum was left woth 4 kids under 5.
Then 20 odd years later I was in Vietnam as a National Serviceman (1967-68)
So Anzac day is a genuine day of reflection (on how lucky we are to have a life)