Remembering the ANZACs I remember standing through ANZAC Day dawn services as a child, but not completely understanding what it all meant. It wasn’t until I stood through the dawn service at Gallipoli that I completely appreciated what these courageous young men gave up for me, my grandparents, my parents and my children. Here is what I wrote after that service.“Surrounded by 9,000 Australians and New Zealanders spread out across the grass at ANZAC Cove in the early hours of April 25, I felt an amazing sense of camaraderie. We were all there for the same reason – to pay our respects to a generation of men, younger than most of us, who fought in one of the most famous battles of modern times. Those whose relatives fought on the Gallipoli Peninsula almost 90 years ago proudly displayed their medals on their chests but for many, like me, the connection was as basic as the need to commemorate the ANZACs. A steady stream of people arrived at ANZAC Cove from early evening on April 24 until around 2am on ANZAC Day. We were all heavily rugged up against the cold wind blowing in from the Aegean Sea, thinking about how this clear, cold night was not unlike the night the soldiers set off from their battleships carrying 45kg packs and rifles, unsure of their fate. Travelling by ferry through the Dardanelles and around Gallipoli Peninsula earlier in the day, I had my first site of ANZAC Cove and the rugged cliffs the soldiers were forced to climb after they landed at the wrong site. But soldiers of a different kind lined the cliffs for our visit - armed Turkish security personnel were dotted around the hills watching out for security threats in light of the war in Iraq. From around 3am the crowd was entertained with ANZAC and Australian folk songs and our sense of companionship grew. As the first rays of light blue appeared behind the cliffs, the Duntroon Royal Military College band performed until the Dawn Service started at 5.30am. Seeing representatives from Britain, Turkey and India standing beside those from Australia and New Zealand made me realise the Gallipoli campaign is not solely owned by the southern hemisphere - it has international significance. I felt proud to be representing my nation and I knew everyone who had weathered the cold night before felt the same as we sang our national anthems at the end of our individual services. After walking up from ANZAC Cove it was a poignant moment when I entered Lone Pine and saw the lines of gravestones marking where so many Australian soldiers had died - or where it was thought they died. But what stood out more were the thousands of stones missing that would otherwise have been claimed by the soldiers who have no known grave. Their names are marked on the Lone Pine Memorial. In the nine months of the Gallipoli campaign more than 36,000 ANZAC servicemen died. At the peninsula’s Kabatepe Museum a bronze plaque displays the words of Turkish poet Bulent Ecevit. The poem, entitled Gallipoli: A Postwar Epic, is very powerful: “… It was a ruthless war yet breeding respect in heart-to-heart exchange as confronting trenches fell into closer range turning foe to friend as the fighters reached their end the war came to a close those who survived returned to their lands and homes leaving the dead behind… lying side by side as friends in each other’s arms they may sleep in comfort and peace in the land for which they died.” My sons will know about this sacrifice and I hope one day they too make the same journey I did and walk the same soil as the ANZAC soldiers. ___________________________________ Johanna Baker-Dowdell is mum to two boys – Noah and Ethan – and combines looking after them with her work as a blogger, journalist, writer and public relations consultant. She owns and manages Strawberry Communications which started small in the third bedroom, but has grown into its own office space (in the converted garage). 1 CommentFeedAdd Comment |
Search SiteSign up to our Free NewsletterLatest Comments
|
Tuesday, 20 April 2010