Lenny Redrose

~ On the Canvas Of Service, 2022

Private (PTE) Ret’d

Australian Army

Content Advisory:

The following story contains personal reflections from an Australian veteran that may include themes of trauma, war-related experiences, mental health struggles, and suicide. These narratives are shared with deep respect and the intent to honour service, foster understanding, and offer hope to those facing similar challenges.

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• Lifeline Australia: 13 11 14 (24/7 crisis support)

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Please proceed with care and compassion.

I sat with Lenn over one of his coffees—the kind he brews with care, the kind that makes you slow down. It didn’t take long before his honesty came forward. Not performative. Not rehearsed. Just truth, laid out plainly, like a man who no longer has anything to run from.

He smiled as he talked—wide, magnetic—but it was not there to hide anything. Lenn doesn’t hide. He tells you who he is, what he’s done, where he’s fallen. He lets you hear the weight of it, then the humour that somehow lives beside it. “In highly stressful moments, you can still find something to laugh at…” he said. And he meant it.

He told me about growing up with not much, the child of Turkish immigrants who simply made do. “We never knew that we had it tough; we just lived life.” It was grit without complaint, survival without spectacle. He carried that same posture into adulthood, even when life turned brutal.

“Having lied as a drug addict, I promised myself a fair few years ago to stop lying,” he said. Then he paused. “The universe for me is like—Lenn, we’ll take a few things away from you…” And it did. His legs. His feeling. His footing, for a time. But not his humour. Not his fire. “You use drugs, and you automatically get corny.” He laughed. Then added, “I’m very fortunate. I’m very lucky to live the life I have lived.”

He is now a father—new to it, but already anchored by it. His love for his partner, and the life they are building together, came through in the quiet moments more than the words. For all the headlines he carries—the medals, the flag he bore for Team Australia—it was this part of him that stayed with me. The part not measured in accolades, but in presence. In how deeply he shows up now—for others, and for himself.

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