This really has to stop.
After the incredibly fruitful news week we've just had, we all expected unremitting periods of boredom, starting with an off-the-shelf ANZAC Day today. Far from it.
We were just preparing to leave after a pleasant but unremarkable march when I noticed two St John's Ambulance volunteers on bikes pedalling furiously down St Kilda Rd, city-bound. Warily, I turned and jogged after them, expecting they were caring for a digger with heat stroke or a heart attack.
Instead, we found a scene of carnage. A huge army truck had ploughed into a group of veterans marching in front. In their 70s and 80s, they were being treated where they lay right outside the Arts Centre, St John's people giving first aid as ambulances began to arrive.
Women in the crowd were crying, parents were dragging their kids away. Police were shouting for any doctors to come forward. The driver of the truck was sitting on the kerb, his face wrought with utter despair.
The old soldiers were loaded into ambulances and taken to Royal Melbourne and The Alfred. By tonight they were listed as stable. For me, a live cross and a package making the most of our advantage - we were on the scene about four minutes after the accident, and about fifteen before our competitors.
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