It was the kind of moment you only get in a place like Jamberoo.

The main street had been closed for the Anzac Day service, and while a tractor quietly rerouted through the backstreets, the milk tanker had no choice but to wait.

It was a pause that seemed fitting, the village, built on farming and community, stopping to remember.

Among the highlights of the parade was Max Brennan, proudly seated beside his son in his vintage Jeep, medals pinned to his blazer, watching the crowd with quiet pride.

Max Brennan who turns 90 this July, first served through national service, stationed in barracks at both Singleton and Holsworthy. Photo: Linda Faiers

The Jeep itself has been part of Max’s life for close to 60 years, and part of the parade for almost as long.

Until last year, Max was behind the wheel himself.

Max, who turns 90 this July, first served through national service, stationed in barracks at both Singleton and Holsworthy.

His son Craig says Anzac Day has always been important to him.

“Dad’s still as committed as ever,” he said. “He asked me last weekend if there was any way he could get his licence back just for a week, so he could drive the Jeep himself.”

That wasn’t possible, not this year. Last May, Max suffered a serious fall, breaking his hip and spending much of the past eight months in hospital.

Now living in aged care, he wasn't going to miss the march.

Craig took the wheel of the Jeep this year, wearing a blue shirt and an even bigger smile. “Dad was pretty chuffed,” he said. “You could tell.”

As the march rolled on, horses and riders stopped outside the Jamberoo Pub, a scene that felt like something out of another time.

Photo: Amanda Large

Locals applauded. Schoolchildren stood quietly. Veterans looked on. And the heart of a small village beat steady in its own way.

When Max Brennan takes part in the Anzac Day parade, it means something.

To him, and to everyone watching.

This year, it wasn’t just a ride in a Jeep he’s owned for nearly 60 years.

It was a quiet act of resilience, the kind that speaks louder than words.

And in Jamberoo, even the milk tanker knows when it’s time to pause.