Emerging Memories

The shifting light as dawn broke; the purple-hue of the night fading to a muddy grey. Orange beams pierce through as the sun rises, revealing the wide expanse of ANZAC Cove and the vast crowd that had gathered.

Duo’s and trio’s huddled together, arms and hands gripping tightly in protection from the cold, the early hour, the emotion.

Feet quietly shift to seek a comfortable stance after a fitful night’s sleep on the ground.

With more force than expected from a singular instrument, the bugle marks the end of the two minute silence. The familiar and sobering tune of the Last Post begins. Memories of past remembrance services naturally stream through my consciousness as does the realisation that this one is different. This one is special.

I am here on a pilgrimage. Officially I am just a statistic; another Australian within the thousands who have joined with New Zealand and Turkey to remember a dark cloud in our collective history. We are here to acknowledge a battle. We are remember those who fought here, entering a war that was not their own to protect a future that many would never see. It is with poignant symbolism that we gather on this land, rich with devastation, to pay respect for all of our countrymen who have fought on our nations behalf.

How can a place of such natural beauty hold such a painful past of bloodshed and pain? As the dawn service concludes and we begin the trek uphill to Lone Pine for the Australian service, this question continuously runs through my head.

The track is constant source of juxtapositions; green vegetation and bush is scarred with remnants of dusty trenches. Sprawling views of the Turkish coast are permanently home to several cemeteries for the ANZACS. Despite the now-scorching heat, I carry with me a chilling sadness as I read through the gravestones; physical evidence of lives ended too soon.

The Australian National Anthem plays during the service and my emotions shift, mirroring those of my fellow countrymen. We throw off the cloak of somber reflection, allowing the pride to seep through – pride for the ANZAC’s and the reputation they encapsulate. Pride in our restored relationship with Turkey; once enemies, now brothers in remembrance. And pride for ourselves for making the journey to Gallipoli for this undeniably important day.