I’ve now returned back to London after my tour of Turkey, including the pilgrimage to Gallipoli for Anzac day.

I don’t have any amusing or entertaining stories from the trip, instead I have the (considerably long) tale of lessons learnt and experience gained from a trip that I can recommend to any Aussie/Kiwi.

Gallipoli History…

For those of you who are not aware of what Gallipoli and Anzac day is here is a brief lesson in Aussie history (please note that the New Zealand Anzac experience is inseparable from and often identical to the Aussie one, but I can only speak for Oz, so no disrespect is intended in the omission of NZ in this ramble):

Gallipoli is a peninsula on the west coast of Turkey, where on 25th April 1915 during WWI an Allied force, consisting mainly of the Australian & New Zealand Army Core (Anzac) along with Brits, French and Indians, launched a beach landing in an attempt to get a foothold of mainland Turkey for a variety of strategic reasons.

Due to the terrain of beaches surrounded by steep cliffs and a few debatable tactical blunders the Allied forces suffered severe casualties from the campaign. The Allied forces managed to maintain a foothold on the peninsula, without ever making substantial progress, before the decision was made to withdraw 7 months later.

About 480,000 Allied troops took part in the Gallipoli campaign. The British had 205,000 casualties (43,000 killed). There were more than 33,600 ANZAC losses (over one-third killed) and 47,000 French casualties (5,000 killed). Turkish casualties are estimated at 250,000 (65,000 killed).

More info can be found at:
http://www.anzacsite.gov.au/
http://www.dva.gov.au/commem/commac/studies/anzacsk/aday4.htm

Nowadays, the Gallipoli battle has come to take on a major significance in the national identity of both Australia and New Zealand. We both celebrate a national war memorial day called ‘Anzac Day’ on the 25th April, where annual dawn services and marches are held to honour and commemorate all Australian soldiers who have served for their country.

…End Gallipoli History

The main reason the Gallipoli campaign has taken on so much significance to Australia is that it was the first time we participated in a war as an independent country, rather then as a British subjects. It was the first time we stood up in the world and fought under our own national identity as Aussies, rather then being told to do so by the Poms.

Many of the characteristics that came out during Gallipoli we still take pride in today. Traits like mateship, larrikinism, a healthy irreverence for authority, and a general interest in having a good time.

Nowadays, Gallipoli is a national park in Turkey and memorials and cemeteries have been built commemorating the many casualties suffered there. Every year a dawn service is held at Anzac Cove (where the first landing took place) that is attended by various dignitaries and an ever increasing crowd of Aussies & Kiwis who make the pilgrimage (mostly from London) to pay their respects. This year I was one of between 10-15 000 people who attended the service, apparently the biggest group of Aussies & Kiwis to gather there since 1915 itself.

I’d heard many good and bad experiences about the trip for Anzac day. Everybody who attended had always said it was a moving experience that they would gladly go back and do again. Unfortunately, I’d also heard stories of people going there and just getting on this piss and making fools of themselves and paying no respect to the event.

One of the growing criticisms of the Anzac day service is that is fast becoming another event on the list of European festivals (like Oktoberfest and the Running of the Bulls) that the Aussie community in London regularly travel to as a party destination.

One of the traits I have become all to familiar with about the Aussie national identity is our ability to travel all over the world (and you will find us in hostels and pubs everywhere you go) just to end up congregating together, getting drunk and running amok.

With this in mind, I arrived at Anzac Cove at 10pm to settle in for the night and await the dawn service. Before long Anzac Cove was absolutely pack with fellow Anzac pilgrims. It was a big crowd, and Anzac Cove is not a big place. I’m really surprised we all fit in. Anyway, with this many Aussies crammed into the one place I considered it to be inevitable that it would just turn into chaos. Thankfully, I was wrong.

Over the next 24hrs, I came to realise a lot about what it means to be an Aussie.

Despite people being tired, cold, and crammed in to a small place, their was a friendly and festive mood through tout the night. There was no drunken revelry, but rather a celebration of our coming together under a common purpose and identity.

I did have my doubts at the time about any kind of celebration when we were there to pay our respects to our fallen forefathers, but in retrospect I think it was one of the positives about the experience. As I said, to me Anzac day has become not just a memorial, but also a celebration of our national identity.

There can be no doubt about the respects being paid. At both the dawn service and the Australian & NZ services later in the day, instant silence was given when asked, tears were shed, and memories of the fallen were honoured.

Outside of the services there was a celebration of the gains the sacrifices that were made to achieve. Their was a collective feeling of being happy to be there and being both proud and thankful for what we have.

A good example of this was at the Aussie memorial service at the Long Pine memorial. With the area crammed full of people all waiting for the service to start a festive mood hung over the crowd. Somehow a Mexican wave started up, keeping the crowd entertained for several minutes. Nobody threw any rubbish in the air (as often happens at the Cricket). Shortly after, the ceremony started and suddenly then silence reigned. There was no laughing, no joking, just people standing with their heads bowed listening to the messages of remembrance from the speakers.

Nowadays, its almost a daily occurrence for me to realise just how lucky we are in our beautiful country. Everywhere I go I can’t help but think about how nice the place is, but how it ain’t got nothing on Oz. Further to this, every person who I meet who is jealous of my travels makes me appreciate the opportunities that Oz provides us with.

However, it wasn’t all just the usual ‘Thank god I’m an Aussie’ identity that came through. There was also the much loved mateship, larrikinism, irreverence to authority, and obviously the good time being had.

The crowd of travellers became instant mates, you could stop and talk to anybody and be the best of friends. There always the usual larrikins running around the crowd, acting like clowns and having a healthy bit of fun and keeping everyone entertained in the process. The authority figures of the Turkish soldiers standing guard constantly had people coming up to them, chatting away and asking them to pose for photo’s.

It was all there. Everything we take pride in as a country came through. Despite the fact that we were all on the opposite side of the planet to our home, you couldn’t slather on any more Oz unless you chucked in a whole lot of cobbers, mates, flaming galahs and happy little Vegemite’s.

Although I would like to go back to Gallipoli at another time of year and pay my respects at Anzac Cove properly with no one else around, because it would be a different experience altogether, going as part of the Anzac Day pilgrimage is something that is hard to put into words (hence why I’ve used so many). Its not until you take the Aussies out of Oz that you really start to see who and what they are.

So there you go, as usual, I’m keeping up my tradition of becoming more and more proud of who I am and where I come from. At this rate I reckon I’ll have an Australian flag tattooed over my heart long before I get back home.