Even The Nightingales Ceased Their Song

I make my way back across the channel this morning to battlegrounds of World War One and the ghosts of history. It was calculated that approximately 50,000 large vessels plied there trade along this throughfare last year, mostly to and from Russia. I can see four huge cargo ships right now, as we sail past. They all appear as if they could topple over at any moment, their cargoes looking ridiculously overstacked, like Lego bricks on a flashdrive.

This gateway to Russia is the reason I'm here today (and not just to look at the traffic). During the Great War almost 95 years ago the Allied powers determined that this area had to be captured in order to defeat the Ottoman Empire and relieve a faltering Russian ally. The offensive became known as the "Gallipoli Campaign". Envisaged by a young Winston Spencer Churchill, the idea was simple in concept- land troops on the peninsula's shores, capture the inland, and consequently control the shipping lanes.

My attempts to reach back into history by solo navigation don't quite prove successful- a frigid day and an apparently sporadic bus timetable beat me before I even get going. I do get a bus quite early on, but the driver seems intent on stopping every two minutes (literally) for no visible reason. I finally stomp off when he stops off at a restaurant, leaving all his passengers sitting in their seats gazing at the great beyond. It's 10.30am. I strike it lucky with my first hitch hike attempt- A talkative doctor transports me back to my starting point.

I start again. Beaten and bloodied, I book a tour at a nearby hotel. Turks 1 Backpackers 1. Our guide Bulent escorts our group along the various landing points and trenches, and the mass graves and many monuments that bear a lasting testament to the efforts of those who fell.

We move from shore landing points to craggy ridge lines, and up further to strategic hill top viewpoints, tracing a timeline of events and a catalogue of disasters. The events of Gallipoli took place over eight painfully long months. Soldiers fought against one another, as well as the heat, the cold, the flies and the disease. It was carnage. Unable to effectively breach the furious Turkish defenders, the allies finally withdrew to the sea in January 1916. The mission had been a disaster. The retreat saw the only miracle of the campaign- in the depths of the darkness one winter's eve, the entire attacking force managed to withdrew without a single fatality. It's hardly possible to conceive the look on the defender's faces the following morning as the first rays of light witnessed shores without guards.

Officially (and approximately), 42,000 Commonwealth troops died in the conflict- 8000 Australians, 3000 New Zealanders, 2000 Indians, and 29,000 Britains. 10,000 French soldiers also perished. 68,000 Turks are officially listed as dead, though most estimates place the number much, much higher. These figures are very hard to establish, and are almost arbitrary. It is impossible to accurately assess (or even comprehend) a total today. I feel like even mentioning numbers is an attempt at quantifying the human suffering that these slopes bore witness to. This is clearly impossible.

Despite the multi- national task force, Gallipoli will, to the majority, forever be remembered as the time that ANZAC (Australian an New Zealand Army Corps) stepped forward and offered of the pride of its youth for the greater good of the Empire. The distinct "down under" feeling remains to this day, and not just on the commemorative ANZAC Day on the 25 April each year (which signifies the very first landings). Indeed, my tour commenced at The Crowded House Hotel, and Bulent spoke his English with a distinctly Australian twang.

Some people may express curiosity at the strength of Antipodean interest that persists to this day in the events that occurred here all those years ago. Amongst all the unquestionable respect and remembrance for those who fell, maybe there is something extra, an addition to the reverence. Perhaps what I'm trying to say is better put by the narrator of a documentary at one of the tourist centres I visited: "Gallipoli is a foothold in the history of Europe. A space that is theirs (Australians and New Zealanders), always available to be walked into." This area helped to shape the identity of two nations we see today. At the same time, it robbed many a town and village of a generation. Somewhere in the corner of a foreign field, lies a place that is forever ANZAC.

Today has been a day of sombre education and reflection. We should never forget events such as Gallipoli.

"Those heroes who 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 Memmets to us where they lie side by side

Here in this country of ours...

You the mothers, who sent your 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."

Mustafa Ataturk (Turkish Gallipoli Commander and First President of Turkish Republic)