It was an early start to the morning in Istanbul but not because my
alarm had woken me up, it was the sound of the early morning prayer call
echoing around the city. I jumped up and ran to the window to see what
it was all about, but as the sounds moved around the neighborhood I
realized it was a normal part of life in Turkey.
Before breakfast, there was time for a quick morning run with the boys.
The crowded streets from the night before were now deserted and as we
made our way through the cobbled laneways of the old town, down to the
Bosphorous River, we were greeted with a beautiful sunrise.
Uncle Erkle ran a tight ship. By 8am we were all on board the bus ready
to make the 5 hour pilgrimage to Gallipoli. A place I had heard so much
about but never fully understood what happened all those years ago and
why so many lives were lost.
As we travelled through the outskirts of Istanbul, I was reminded of a
modern day war with Syrian refugees lining the streets on the highway,
begging for money, shelter and food. It is sad to think 100 years on and
there are still so many devastating and destructive wars happening
around the world.
On the road to Gallipoli, we made the occasion bathroom stop. Getting a
good coffee in Turkey is difficult though. The traditional Turkish blend
is thick syrup and is definitely an acquired taste.
Erkle provided plenty of commentary on the bus ride down. Passionate
and very humorous, he was a talking encyclopedia and made the trip down
very enjoyable.
Approaching the Gallipoli peninsula, the landscape quickly changed. It
really is not dissimilar to the beaches and terrain in Australia.
We finally arrived at Gallipoli. As soon as we stepped off the bus, we
could feel this was a special place. It just has an aura and evokes this
powerful sense of emotion. For a while, we all just stood there and
stared out into the ocean. Waiting for someone to say something.
We made our way down to the beach at ANZAC Cove. Our eminent war
historian from McLachlan Battlefield Tours, Mat McLachlan, began to tell
the story of the boats arriving and the first few hours of the campaign.
It was interesting to learn that the beach became a place of sanctuary
for the ANZAC¹s during the campaign. I always thought that the majority
of lives were lost on the beach with soldiers gunned down from the
nearby hills. That was not the case.
The ANZAC¹s used the beach to set up base and then advance up into the
sand dunes to try and capture the next position. They would reach a
certain strategic point and then have to dig in and build a trench,
waiting for the next order to advance. That is how they became known as
diggers.
Often the diggers did't get far. Thousands were gunned down in the
early campaigns. With so many soldiers returning to the beach wounded or
dead, it is inconceivable to imagine what must have been going through
the minds of the next wave of diggers to be sent into battle. They must
have developed a sense of fatalism and mortality unlike anything a human
being should have to experience. For me, this was hard to come to terms
with and has left a lasting impression.
Lest we forget.
