ANZAC: Gallipoli

It’s been a while between posts, and I make no apology for that. Sure, things have been busy and I’ll get to that in future posts, but this has been the hardest piece I’ve ever written. I’ve retyped much and at times had to walk away. Why? Well, read on, you may understand or at least get a glimpse of that understanding. This was an experience, and one that is very hard to describe...

A 5am breakfast had most of us on the bus and ready to leave at around 6am. We'd changed busses and drivers, and you couldn't help but wonder if something was up after seeing what you can see here with the sticker going over the bus company's actual name… Our new driver did offer us all a round of teas or Turkish coffee, which was a bonus that many of us welcomed.
Once off, it was time to settle in for either some extra sleep or to just watch the city of Istanbul go by with our tea or coffee. The built up areas eventually gave way to fields, but we were informed by Volkan that we were still in Istanbul and that these were their farmers. Smaller built up areas kept on appearing throughout this early portion of our journey, which did give you the feeling that you hadn't quite left Istanbul itself.

Our first stop provided one of those moments where you discover something unique about a country and you are reminded that you're in a different part of the world. We'd pulled into what looked like a rather modern petrol station/roadhouse for a toilet break. To say that the toilets were 'interesting' would be a bit of an understatement. A bowl in the floor with a panel on each side for your feet. No loo paper either, as those who needed it were raiding the paper towel dispenser before heading back to their cubicles (assuming that they'd noticed this first).

Back on the road, and Volkan was advising us that we would need to stock up on food supplies at our next stop, which would be a "big shop". We would need lunch, dinner, breakfast and lunch again before we would be back in Istanbul.
Before reaching the "big shop" we passed through some seaside 'towns', which Volkan described as summer houses - not bad, as most of them were multi storey buildings. We really were just following the coastline out of Istanbul and down the Bosphorus straight.

The "big shop" turned out to be a large supermarket, and we were given 25minutes to shop for what we needed/wanted. What wasn't taken into account was the fleet of other buses that arrived shortly after we did, and this meant that the supermarket was suddenly inundated with Aussies and Kiwis all doing that last stop shop for supplies… 40 minutes later, we were back on the road again.

The Turkish countryside is quite picturesque as we continued to follow along the coastline into the region known as the Dardanelles towards Anzac Cove. The countryside itself was far greener than I thought it would be. Meanwhile, out on the water were all manner of craft from fishing boats to massive cargo ships.

After a while we started to see road signs mentioning Gelibolu, which is the town of Gallipoli, and our anticipation grew. We had entered the peninsula known as the Dardanelles, where this campaign had taken place 94 years ago.

Soon we were driving on a bitumen lane that wound its way upward through the hills of this region to pull up at the Lone Pine memorial for a quick visit. All was in preparation for the following day’s service, and it was nice in the sunshine to enjoy the views of the coastline. However, it was here by that lone tree, amongst the head stones, and looking down at the terrain, that I started to gain an insight in to what occurred here nearly a century ago.
We’ve all seen the Gallipoli movie and some documentaries of the battles that took place here, but to actually stand there... I don’t know, it’s hard to describe, but ‘appreciation’ seems a good word. You feel it, but I’m not exactly sure what ‘it’ actually is, and while I’ve retyped this paragraph about twelve times now in an attempt to describe it to you, that feeling has returned each time...
Anyway, after spending some time here we travelled further up the winding road to Chunuk Bair, which is the sight of the New Zealand memorial (Lone Pine being Australian). On the way, we passed other smaller memorial sights including a large Turkish one.
Chunuk Bair was also the first time we encountered the trenches. I’m sure they are reconstructions as the wood didn’t seem all that old, but they weren’t exactly that far apart as I’ve tried to show here (click on the pic for a bigger view). Walking along the trenches, you notice very quickly just what the New Zealanders faced. It was the same at Lone Pine, and ‘appreciation’ again seems to fit.
Both attacks just seem ludicrous, but both succeeded.

From Chunuk Bair, we headed back down the hills to the coast, again passing some smaller memorial sights to eventually reach the Turkish museum of Kabatepe, which is where we stopped for a lunch break. Nice to have an ice cream stall there in the sun.

Our next stop was along the coastline itself in a makeshift carpark (or bus-park) on what was funnily enough, Brighton Beach. Volkan had earlier told us that there would be over 180 buses delivering people to Anzac Cove. We disembarked and collected up all our gear to then make our way along Anzac Cove to the Anzac Commemorative sight. To get there, we walked the entire length of Anzac Cove (pictured below), which isn’t as long as it sounds. We then queued up to go through security, which was pretty much what you go through at the airport. As we waited, the queue got longer and longer as more people arrived behind us.
Once again, you got to appreciate what had happened here - looking at that beach you really have to ask why they landed here.

Eventually at the sight itself, we were directed to a spot and settled in for the next 12-13 hours until the dawn service the next morning. The site was already crowded and throughout the night people were still arriving. They had two large video screens and throughout the night these were showing different documentaries on the Gallipoli campaign. The bulk of these documentaries were footage and photographs of the campaign with the letters of soldiers that served there being read out. It did get a little full on with descriptions of the slaughter and resulting ‘mess’ (which you can no doubt imagine), but was fascinating at the same time as I learnt quite a bit about what had happened in the very spot that we were. Many of the smaller things were quite a surprise too. A few were even Turkish and gave you an idea of what things were like on their side of this war.
In between these and as the temperature dropped we stayed in our little area entertaining ourselves or attempting to gain some sleep, which did become a little harder as the crowds grew.

As dawn started to gradually arrive, things moved slowly into gear for the dawn service itself.
I’ve done dawn services before in both Adelaide and Melbourne, and never have I found them to be particularly emotional - I have no connection to Gallipoli through any relative. There is something about being there in Gallipoli though. I don’t know what it is exactly and several of us tried to work this out but couldn’t seem to come up with anything substantial... Either way, you really feel this service. Nothing prepared me for that feeling either, especially at the words of the Turkish General who commanded their defence, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk;

“Those heroes that shed their blood
And lost their lives
You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country
Therefore rest in peace
There is no difference between the Johnnies
And the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side
Here in this country of ours
You, the mothers,
Who sent their sons from far away countries
Wipe away your tears,
Your sons are now lying in our bosom
And are in peace
After having lost their lives on this land
They have become our sons as well”

This was particularly poignant after some of the things that you learned over night in the documentaries about the camaraderie, respect and bond that seemed to strike up between the two opposing forces. After one of the very early battles where over thirteen thousand Turkish and ANZACs were killed, there was a truce so that the dead could be removed. The descriptions of this in the ANZAC letters were quite graphic, but included a realisation that “the enemy” they were trying to kill were just like them. On a lighter side, this led to many exchanges with cigarettes, candy, butter, etc being thrown back n forth between the opposing trenches.

Once the service was over, it was time to pack up and clean up the site before making our way to the next memorial service at Lone Pine. To get there, we had to trek back along ANZAC Cove, which under the early morning sunrise was quite special. After a while we then had to turn inland and make our way up 3 kilometres of a dirt “road” that wound its way up to Lone Pine. It certainly gave you an appreciation of the terrain that the ANZACs traversed to get to Lone Pine, as they did this without a road (and without a stop at Shell Green Cemetery).

In the warm sun, they held the Australian memorial service at Lone Pine. This included more of that feeling that still keeps coming back even as I type this. The guy who was ‘welcoming’ us all there (kinda like a warm-up guy at a show) did two things during his time at the podium that I will never forget. Firstly amongst his banter and guiding people to the right areas, he asked if there were any World War II veterans present - a single elderly man stood up in the stands just down from where I was sitting, and the applause from all who had gathered there was amazing. Cue the Feeling... This then followed on with Korean and Vietnam veterans who received the same as they too stood or raised their hands.
The second was the tale of Brigadier Rolfe and how he lost both legs during a war, right before he then introduced this man who came forward on his crutches to be the master of ceremonies for the service.

After the service, we were pretty much left to our own devices. I and a couple of others headed off up the road to just past the Turkish memorial service that I mentioned that we had passed the day before. There was already a Turkish service underway by the time we got there, so we took a respectful peek before heading further up the road.
Our destination was the site of the battle of the Nek. This is the actual battle that is depicted in the movie Gallipoli. As we’d learnt the night before, this is also the location where during that gap between the shelling and the charge when the Turks had climbed back to their machine guns, they had yelled and pleaded for the ANZACs not to come over the trenches to attack... It is here I discovered just how small a distance they were trying to cover. It literally isn’t much larger than a tennis court. The pic really doesn’t do it justice, and I bet you didn’t expect trees either...
The view from here across the Dardenelles was again, impressive, and this area really was on a thin ridge. I trekked a little further down the tracks to come out on the edge of the hill known as the Sphinx. It overlooks the site where the Dawn Service was held and gives you a great view out across the Adriatic Sea.
Returning back to the road and one last look at the memorial at the Nek, I continued the trek up to Chunuk Bair where they were holding the New Zealand memorial service. Sitting in the sun enjoying a bite to eat while the Kiwi’s did their thing. While I was on the outside of the area, I did get a good view of the impromptu Haka that followed after their service finished.
I was soon to discover that it was probably rather inappropriate to perform the haka that they did.
I caught up with the Kiwi contingent of our tour group to await our bus, and during this time, they informed me that there are several versions of the haka. The famous one performed before rugby matches is the battle one and is very insultive to those it is directed at. They believed the pride one would have been more appropriate, but many may not know it well enough.
That discovered, we settled in to watch the convoy of busses go past until ours came up. As nice as sitting in the sun can be, it was getting a bit much at this stage. Over 180 busses had to pass through to collect everyone from both Lone Pine and Chunuk Bair. While we waited a few hours, there were others who would wait far longer as the road used was only wide enough for one bus at a time...

On the road again and it was time to catch up on sleep as we made our way back to Istanbul and the hotel. The idea of heading out for a final night out in Istanbul was pretty much scuppered by the need for sleep and everyone feeling knackered. The hotel lobby bar was pretty much it for Paul, Shar, myself and a few others in our tour group, although Paul and I did head up the road to a restaurant for a bite to eat with a couple of the others.

Sunday, and all ideas of getting up early to go check out some nearby locations and sites pretty much ended as we slept through alarms and the like. Hotel breakfast and the fun of trying to our promised cab from the concierge was going to be pretty much the morning.
We made it to the airport with good time to spare, although I nearly didn’t make the plane. I was stopped just before going through the gate by airport police and a rather fat sweaty man. He was a taxi driver and claimed that I had not paid the fare. When I explained that I had come in a white mini-van taxi with four other Aussies from our hotel they let me go.

This was really an incredible experience. I had heard that it can be life changing. I wouldn’t go that far, but it was certainly more than I expected. I’m certainly glad I did it and would recommend it to anyone from Australia or New Zealand regardless of age...