Gallipoli. The name echoes through Australian history, a place of courage, sacrifice, and loss but also created the Aussie persona that lives on today. For years, I’d dreamt of visiting this hallowed ground, to walk in the footsteps of our Anzacs and try to grasp the enormity of what happened there. That dream recently became a reality, and it was even more profound than I could have imagined.
From the moment I set foot on the Gallipoli Peninsula, I was struck by its serene beauty. Rolling hills meet the turquoise Aegean Sea, starkly contrasting the brutal battles that raged across this landscape over a century ago. Our local tour guide brought the stories to life, painting vivid pictures of the landings, the desperate charges, and the heartbreaking conditions endured by both sides.
What struck me about the terrain was how poor our eventual landing spot was, you can see below just South (and North was similar as well) how flat and evenly distributed the landing could have been, as opposed to Anzac Cove which you will see later. A series of mistakes, miscalculations and miscommunications ultimately led to a failure to gain significant ground against a much smaller Turkish force.
You can see in some of the below images just how implausible a successful campaign was for the Anzac forces. Even if the Anzacs had landed North or South of Anzac Cover, where the terrain was flatter, the Aussies would have had to contend with; “Bloody Angle”, “Dead Man’s Ridge” and “Gun Ridge”. Not to mention the many unnamed gorges that even Google Maps would struggle to navigate today.
One of the most moving moments was visiting Lone Pine Cemetery & Monument. Rows upon rows of white markers indicate the final resting place of so many young Australians, far from home. I read the headstones and was touched to see that some families still visited. It was a sobering reminder of the devastating cost of war, especially for a nation that was not 20 years old yet.
We visited ANZAC Cove, where the first wave of Australians and New Zealanders incorrectly landed, full of hope and courage, but following orders. Standing there, I could almost hear the roar of the guns, the chaos, and the cries of the wounded. We walked along the beaches, now peaceful and tranquil, but once stained with blood. We climbed the ridges, imagining the Anzacs scrambling through the rugged terrain, waiting for commands that would likely send them to their deaths.
As an Australian, visiting Gallipoli is a deeply personal experience. It’s a chance to connect with our history, to honour the bravery and sacrifice of our soldiers, and to reflect on the impact of war. But it’s also a reminder of the bonds that can be forged between nations, even in the midst of conflict.
This was brought home to me in a surprising way when I encountered three Turkish men during the tour. They asked where I was from, and when I said Australia, their faces lit up. They embraced me warmly, calling me their “brother”. Their unexpected gesture of friendship touched me deeply and reminded me of an Anzac Day Dawn Service in the Philippines where the Turkish Consul said something along the lines of “We fought each other, we bled and died together, forever connected and now we are brothers”. It was a reminder that even though our countries were once enemies, we are now united in our respect for the shared history of Gallipoli.
My day tour of Gallipoli was more than just a trip to a historical site. It was a pilgrimage, a journey of discovery, and a reminder of the enduring power of the human spirit. It’s an experience that will stay with me forever, a reminder of the sacrifices made by so many, and the importance of peace.
At a time in our history when mistakes look to be repeated and when basic human rights and democracy are being challenged by evil people driving division through the peddling of fear to conceal their selfish desires, this was a stark reminder of what was sacrificed and for what – even when it is often taken for granted.
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