The battlefields stand on sun scorched land. Headstones and crosses mark the places where the battle lines were drawn, where bodies once lay strewn. Remnants of trenches remain forged deep into the landscape, creating a firing line where some men did not escape. Eerie silence fills the air, replacing past feelings of fear. Memorials remind us of the war, a reminder of what the men died for.
Nearly four months ago I walked across some of the battlefields in Gallipoli, I stood in trenches once occupied by men despite to survive and return home to their families, and gazed across a breathtakingly beautiful landscape from Lone Pine. It was hard to stand there and imagine the horror and blood that had been shed.
Lone Pine was the highlight of my Gallipoli tour. Although I’m unsure if highlight is the right word. Headstones filled the battlefield, headstones of fallen Turkish soldiers on one side and headstones of Australian soldiers on the other. It was such a small battlefield yet claimed the lives of at least 7000 soldiers. I remember standing at Lone Pine looking over the surrounding landscape, trying to comprehend the number of dead in such a small place and how such a peaceful place was once full of such violence and fear. It was impossible for me to reconcile it all. As I stood there I was moved to tears by the enormity of it.
In the past I would buy a poppy and contemplate going to the dawn parade (but I have actually only attended it once) and on ANZAC day I would think about what happened at Gallipoli but often only briefly. But my visit to Gallipoli has changed me. Gallipoli has got under my skin and into my heart. ANZAC day will never be the same for me again.
Etched on memorials are the words: “lest we forget”. I know I won’t forget. Having stood on that land, walked in the trenches and seen the memorials I could never forget.
Nearly four months ago I walked across some of the battlefields in Gallipoli, I stood in trenches once occupied by men despite to survive and return home to their families, and gazed across a breathtakingly beautiful landscape from Lone Pine. It was hard to stand there and imagine the horror and blood that had been shed.
Lone Pine was the highlight of my Gallipoli tour. Although I’m unsure if highlight is the right word. Headstones filled the battlefield, headstones of fallen Turkish soldiers on one side and headstones of Australian soldiers on the other. It was such a small battlefield yet claimed the lives of at least 7000 soldiers. I remember standing at Lone Pine looking over the surrounding landscape, trying to comprehend the number of dead in such a small place and how such a peaceful place was once full of such violence and fear. It was impossible for me to reconcile it all. As I stood there I was moved to tears by the enormity of it.
In the past I would buy a poppy and contemplate going to the dawn parade (but I have actually only attended it once) and on ANZAC day I would think about what happened at Gallipoli but often only briefly. But my visit to Gallipoli has changed me. Gallipoli has got under my skin and into my heart. ANZAC day will never be the same for me again.
Etched on memorials are the words: “lest we forget”. I know I won’t forget. Having stood on that land, walked in the trenches and seen the memorials I could never forget.