Former Rat of Tobruk Murray Willing and fellow veteran Norvyn "Bluey" Stevens — who fought Japanese and Vichy French forces during World War II — knew a great deal about strength in the face of adversity.

Key points: Murray Willing and Norvyn Stevens recently died at the age of 100

Murray Willing and Norvyn Stevens recently died at the age of 100 Mr Willing is thought to be the last of South Australia's Rats of Tobruk

Mr Willing is thought to be the last of South Australia's Rats of Tobruk Their stories are being remembered as veterans prepare for a very different Anzac Day

The pair of old soldiers, who both recently died at the age of 100 during the current lead-up to Anzac Day, served in different theatres of war but they each had battle scars.

Mr Willing, who was believed to be the state's last living Rat of Tobruk, survived being shot during later fighting in Papua New Guinea.

"He would need no encouragement at all to rip his shirt off and show you this wound in his shoulder, and by flexing his shoulder he could make it wink," said friend and veterans advocate Bill Denny.

During his wartime service, Mr Stevens was taken prisoner by the Japanese and was put to work on the notorious Thai-Burma railway.

"One in three Australians died in those camps, but Bluey and his mates fancied themselves as amateur saboteurs," Mr Denny said.

"When the supports for the railway bridges were being sunk, the POWs backfilled all the holes with leaves rather than dirt in the hope the bridges might eventually collapse."

Murray Willing cuts the cake at his 100th birthday celebration. ( Supplied: Philip Bulpitt )

The men just missed out on one final Anzac Day but Mr Denny said, given the cancellation of so many marches and services to protect veterans from coronavirus, it would have been a very different experience from the one they were used to.

"[Murray] used to love being in the Anzac Day marches, he wouldn't miss them for the world," he said.

"It's so sad to have this thrust upon them in their last years … you never know when an ANZAC Day is going to be your last when you get into your nineties.

"To have it snatched away from you by something like this and then know it's another 12 months before you get another crack — you just wonder how many are going to be around."

'Best beer I ever tasted'

Murray Willing lied about his age and enlisted as a 20-year-old at Wallaroo on South Australia's Yorke Peninsula in March 1940.

During the war, he more than lived up to his name, willingly enduring hardship during his service in the Middle East and North Africa.

He survived the Siege of Tobruk and, along with 14,000 other Australians, held off the German forces for more than six months.

"When we got back from our lines, 500 cases of beer had arrived for us in honour of defending Tobruk — if Tobruk had fallen, we would have lost the war. Best beer I ever tasted," he later recalled.

After resting in Syria, he was sent to fight the Japanese in Papua New Guinea where, during the Battle of Buna, he was shot in the chest.

"As my captain put his hand up for us to move forward, the sniper got me through my chest and it came out under my arm," he said.

He was strapped to the front of a vehicle for evacuation to a waiting aircraft, before Japanese forces attacked.

Murray Willing rides a motorcycle with his friend Frank Carty at his home at Price, on Yorke Peninsula. ( Supplied: Philip Bulpitt )

He later recalled to Mr Denny that he could only "pull the blanket over his head and wait".

"He was forever ready to make people aware he had been wounded in action … this was fair dinkum, being shot by a rifleman," Mr Denny said.

Surviving the ordeal, the "quintessential larrikin" returned to Australia and his hometown of Price and started a haulage company, and Mr Denny said he may have been the last Rat of Tobruk.

Mr Willing's grandson, Philip Bulpitt, said coronavirus restrictions on funerals were not going to hinder the family's plans.

"He made it very clear in his will that he didn't want any particular service to be held for his passing," Mr Bulpitt said.

"He was after a private cremation and a private service."

But RSL South Australia's Keith Harrison, who was a friend of Mr Willing for 25 years, said it was a challenging time for all veterans.

"I said to our group of fellas, 'have a private toast for Murray and when we get the opportunity, we'll do it as a group'," he said.

'Find the good in people'

Like Mr Willing, Norvyn Stevens enlisted in Adelaide early in the war and served as a dispatch rider.

"They went off to the Middle East and worked in Syria, where they fought against the Vichy French under the command of Arthur Blackburn VC," Mr Denny said.

Norvyn Wallace "Bluey" Stevens served as a dispatch rider. ( Supplied: Ineke Van Rijswijk )

His battalion was later sent to Java to defend against the Japanese but, after the battalion's machine guns were sent on the wrong boat many soldiers, including Bluey, were captured as prisoners of war.

They were put to work on the notorious Thai-Burma railway.

He started as a "hammer and tap man", but Mr Denny said he soon had other ideas — including sabotage — and he was soon responsible for demolition.

A piece of rock damaged his shin badly in an explosion and the wound became very infected.

Managing to survive, he was then shipped to Japan to work in the coal mines until he was liberated after the end of the war.

Mr Denny said he was actively involved in his battalion's association and in Anzac Day marches.

"He held the unit standard, the first man in the unit, in his chair, in his uniform, with his slouch hat — he was always pushed in his wheelchair by his granddaughter," he said.

Norvyn Wallace "Bluey" Stevens during a march with two children by his side. ( Supplied: Ineke Van Rijswijk )

His granddaughter Ineke Van Rijswijk said he became her best friend.

"He always said to me, 'the true road to real happiness is to find the good in people'," she said.

"He was an amazing man who, despite the struggles and trauma he suffered in life, continued to see good everywhere, to love life and all people right up to his passing."

Despite a harrowing war experience, he did not share the stories with his family freely.

"His view was that if he burdened us and others with those stories, the sacrifices would've been for nothing," Ms Van Rijswijk said.

"I recall other stories … like him laughing with old friends about sunbaking in prison camps and getting burnt.

"We are heartbroken that given current COVID restrictions we cannot send Pa off the way he deserves."