In his 100 years, Bill Aldcroft has seen things that could span multiple lifetimes.
Born into disadvantage in east London in 1922, Mr Aldcroft left school at the age of 14, "barely able to read or write".
But he did not let that stop him. World War II soon began, and Mr Aldcroft said it soon became clear to him what to do.
"I was in the army, so ... they came down and asked if I would like to join the special services and I thought it was going to be, driving trucks and things … because I was a bit stupid," he said through laughter.
"But it turned out to be jumping out of planes, and I thought 'my God, do I need to do this?' But I did!"
In 1942, Mr Aldcroft joined the paratroopers and undertook "do or die" activities across Africa and Europe, until it all came to an abrupt end during one mission.
"I got caught in Poland," he said.
"That was bad news ... It was pretty rough there".
When he was eventually released, he spent five years in the Middle East, before retraining as a marine engineer and making Australia his permanent home.
"I landed in Melbourne, where it was raining, cold and miserable and I'd just come from sunny Egypt and I thought, 'I'm not equipped for this,'" he recalled.
Order of Australia for volunteer efforts
Once in Australia, Mr Aldcroft worked on the Snowy Hydro project in Cooma and volunteered to teach English to workers who had come to Australia as part of the project.
After moving to the national capital, he became one of the earliest voices calling for a prison within the ACT and a Canberra-based parole system.
"There were problems with guys going to jail in Goulburn, and their families were left [in Canberra]," he said.
"So, to shut me up I think, I was made an official visitor so I could go around to the different prisons [and offer support to prisoners]."
For his years of volunteering for Prisoners Aid and within the legal system, Mr Aldcroft was recognised with an Order of Australia in 2012.
He was also nominated for an Order of the British Empire, but declined the title.
When asked on his 100th birthday what the greatest lesson he had learnt over his century was, he recalled a song:
"You've got to keep on walking forward, you've gotta keep on walking forward, keep on walking forward, never looking back. No, never looking back," he sang.
"Never look back on the things that you've done wrong. And we've all done wrong things ... Forget it, you know!
"You've got a life ahead, and mine's just about at the end, but you've got a life to go.
