On the eve of Anzac Day ex-commando Dean Parkinson shared a message on Facebook that is precious to him.

“I love you dad,” his son’s post read. “You always put us first and I hope you have a great day tomorrow.”

Alongside the message from his young son was a photograph of the soldier that is among the most-famous to emerge from the 20-year war.

The image shows Parkinson in profile at dawn on a mountain in Shah Wali Kot, a Taliban haven that was the target of a five-day mission that the army considers its greatest victory of the war.

Four of Parkinson’s special forces colleagues were recognised with decorations for bravery over those five days, including Ben Roberts-Smith, who received the second Victoria Cross for Australia.

Ben Chuck

On Anzac Day, Gordon Chuck didn’t receive a similar message from his son, a commando who also fought in the battle. That’s because Ben Chuck died a week later, aged 27, with two other Australians, Tim Aplin and Scott Palmer, in a helicopter crash on a mission against the few talibs left in Shah Wali Kot.

Mr Chuck wasn’t able to make this year’s Anzac Day service at Queensland’s Atherton Tablelands’ Avenue of Honour, the route taken by his son’s coffin in 2010. Instead, he lit two candles next to a statuette of a soldier in combat gear at his home in the Thai city of Chiang Mai.

Despite the distance, Mr Chuck was gratified to receive photographs from the avenue, which showed hundreds gathered before dawn for a service in the place that commemorates the 41 men killed in Australia’s longest war.

Still, it wasn’t easy.

“It’s more than just a day,” he said Monday. “It’s a deep dive back into all the things you never really got out of. You grit your teeth and you hang on.”

Ben Chuck was friends with Mr Roberts-Smith, and hoped to join the giant corporal in the Special Air Service Regiment after returning from Afghanistan.

The murder charges filed against Mr Roberts-Smith on April 7 made this year’s Anzac Day more poignant than normal for Afghanistan veterans, especially those from the special forces.

Given the prosecution is based on the testimony of four other SAS members, themselves accused of murder, many must feel the conduct of the whole war is on trial.

War in the dock

All wars are dirty. Afghanistan was no exception. How dirty may emerge through multiple SAS trials over the rest of the decade.

Although publication of an official history has been delayed for reasons that are unclear, much of the hard fighting was left to the special forces, mainly the SAS and commandos.

During the period that covers most of the allegations against Mr Roberts-Smith, small SAS teams like the one he led were assigned to hunt down Taliban leaders across Afghanistan one by one.

By listening to their phone calls, the Australians got to know them well, and came up with code names such as Yokel Apocalypse and Yobbo Aggressor.

The object was to capture them. Killing was an option too.

A few months after the Battle of Shah Wali Kot, a list of targets in the SAS offices at Tarin Kowt in Southern Afghanistan featured ten Taliban leaders found by the SAS. Half weren’t taken alive.

The commandos weren’t kittens either. At the start of their five days in Shah Wali Kot, the 2nd Commando Regiment’s Alpha Co spent a night bursting into compounds and questioning terrified families at gunpoint.

The Australians didn’t expect to find talibs sleeping next to AK-47s. As veterans of the battle told me for a book, the commandos wanted to provoke the enemy, who did not wear uniforms, into a day-time fight by daring to take control of a village the insurgents considered home ground.

They succeeded. They next morning a large and well-organised force attacked the Australians. They came close to overrunning Oscar Platoon under the command of Captain Allan Bramble. The officer picked up his M4 assault rifle and led a counter attack that ended the threat.

Fortune of War

One of the heroes of that battle didn’t fire a shot. An electronic warfare officer, Gary Wilson monitored Taliban communications all day on a hill in temperatures approaching fifty degrees.

With the help of an Afghan interpreter, Wilson provided information that helped the commandos understand when and how they were going to be attacked.

On Saturday evening, Wilson went searching for veterans to reminisce with at the Fortune of War in Sydney’s Rocks. The pub, a favourite of Wilson’s original unit, is allowed to place chairs and tables on the footpath.

Wilson was in the helicopter crash that killed Ben Chuck. In a coma for three months, he had to relearn how to walk and talk.

As Wilson left the packed bar for the footpath, beer in hand, he was challenged by a security guard.

“Where are you sitting?” the bouncer said.

“Don’t know,” said Wilson.

“Well, back inside,” he ordered.

In that moment, Wilson had an inspiration. He thrust the drink into the bouncer’s hand and walked up to some Vietnam veterans who had secured tables.

“Hey lads, mind if I jump in that seat?” he said.

After seeing Wilson’s medals, the veterans of one conflict welcomed one from another to share war stories. Which is precisely the purpose of Anzac Day: joining together to remember the past.