Day 14: At the going down of the sun, and in the morning…

And how true is the title of today’s blog entry, because just after the sun went down on April 24 the pilgrims made their way onto the coach for the short drive to Canakale to board the ferry for the other side of the Dardanelles and the short drive to Anzac Cove, the venue for the Dawn Service. There was great excitement and anticipation in the group as well as some terminal tiredness which would only get worse. Aret was worried about how long it would take us to get a car ferry as sometimes the bus has to wait for about an hour, but we literally drove straight on and then they closed the ferry gates and off we went so it was a reasonably early arrival for the Michelin men and women with all our layers on to keep warm in the wee small hours.

After passing the first checkpoint in the bus it was time to walk to the site, about 1.5km along the hills half way up the cove. There were a huge number of people already in the site and I thought that my bracelet number of 3514 was a good indicator of the number there already. Being official guests of the Australia Government, compliments of us being in the party of the Cardinal who was a dignitary, meant that we were seated in block A1. No question that these seats were fabulous . Not 10 metres away the waters of Anzac Cove were gently lapping the coastline as each wave broke gently and softly in the eerie predawn stillness. They were tiered stadium seating not unlike the Edinburgh tattoo or Dawn service in Canberra.

As we had almost 3 hours before the service would begin we watched the pre-show entertainment, an interesting documentary on NZ casualties in WWII, an Australian documentary and some children who won awards giving their speeches. We then went for a walk to discover a whole mini Turkish suburb out back, selling souvenirs, mountains of Turkish food and hot chocolate, the latter of which was irresistible in the cold crisp morning air. In the hour immediately before the ceremony, the temperature dropped dramatically, as it is always coldest just before the dawn. Bone chilling and it added to the atmosphere.

At 5am the official party arrived and the ceremony was underway soon after. There was a reading of the names of many of the victims who died in the Gallipoli campaign… the youngest victim being a14 year old boy. It just blows you mind really. Their faces as they scrolled on the screen made me realize the enormity of loss of life of the youth of our country and caused me to think about those special young men who I know who are currently serving in our defence forces.  As all this was happening the beach and shoreline was floodlit with an eerie blue light and the outline of the mountains could barely be seen in the pre-dawn light while the water continued to lap hypnotically on the shore. I was shaken from this hypnotic reflection by the mournful wailing lament sung by two Maori women.


 

The dawn service progressed much as any dawn service does, readings, prayer, a couple of reflections and the last post and reveille. At the first sound of the bugle the tears rolled down my cheeks: for so many years ANZAC Day has been a part of my story and now, in this place, I was moved to tears beyond words. With each passing minute, the sharp hills came clearer and clearer in to view and the water showed sparkling on the shore. Flags flew at half mast and then, when the service concluded and the official party departed, it was as though the cove sprung into life. The reverence and silence gave way to a burst of energy as the young people clambered down and over the monument snapping photos on the shrine and along the beach. As security was lessened following the service you could access the beach and it was fabulous to take a brief stroll along shoreline, placing fingers in the icy waters and contemplating the feelings and thoughts that would have been in the minds of those young men as they landed 97 years before.

We pilgrims started collecting our things and having our photos before moving on. We all gave the Cardinal a cheer and a wave as he left the arena and then, some of our crew discovered that the closest porta-loo to where we were had been the PM’s toilet, reserved before the ceremony for the official guests. The photographic evidence shows the need for a Bayan… no Bay allowed.

It was then time for the trek to Lone Pine.

Lone Pine is a 3.4km hike from Anzac Cove. The first 1.8km is flat tar sealed road and then it is straight up the side of the mountain on dirt and stones. The sun was now high in the sky and it was quite hot. Of course we needed to shed the layers that had kept us warm in the pre-dawn chill. It was a long way up that hill. The course is peppered with grave sites and monuments. One of the most moving is the verse from Ataturk …

“Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives. You are now living in the soil of a friendly country therefore rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side here in this country of ours. You, the mothers, who sent their sons from faraway 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.”
 

Arriving at the top of the hill at Lone Pine we jumped the queue with our official guest passes and we found our way to A1 seating. The atmosphere here was so totally different to what we had experienced at the cove. The master of Ceremonies was doing something more akin to the start of a football match as he was getting everyone to cheer based on what part of Australia we came from. The Queenslanders gave we NSWelshpersons a run for our money. The Oz Army band were playing songs, some a little up tempo and some more reflective like “The prayer” and “You raise me up” accompanied by the Brisbane school kids who had sung at the cove. The area was fairly free to wander around and so we could walk and see the graves with the Lone Pine towering over them. I have a soft spot for the Lone Pine having been connected with the trees that were planted in schools and it was a fabulous thing to see the tree. It is not actually the original, but it is a near relative of the tree that was obliterated during the shelling on the site.

At 9am the official party started to arrive and Julia Gillard went on a walkabout right up into the stand where we were sitting. Jo and Deirdre managed to even get a photo with her. Then, with all of the officials seated, the ceremony began, with the same pomp and precision of the Anzac Cove ceremony. The crowd which had been so exuberant minutes before was silent and reverent. Many wreaths were laid and the last post and reveille rang out once more.

We were very fortunate to have the bus pick us up from the Lone Pine site to save us the 3km walk to Chinuk Bair, as by this time the sun was really blazing. The bus got within about 200m of the Chinuk Bair site and then the road was blocked. This is the site of the NZ monument and there was a ceremony here. It is also the site of the Turkish memorial and statue of Ataturk that was visible from our hotel at sunset two days earlier. WE managed to find the Cardinal who had been released from his official party duties for the day and started the very long drive to Istanbul.

There was not a sound on the bus for quite a while, both for the fact that people were processing their experiences of the morning and also because terminal exhaustion had kicked in after being awake for in excess of 30 hours. It was truly sleepy time. A roadside restaurant provided us with a very pleasant three course dinner late in the afternoon and then we continued on the road to our hotel in Istanbul.

Istanbul is the largest city in Turkey with a population that appears to be counted somewhere between 6 and 13 million. The traffic jam was certainly extreme and the skyline was more like I had expected to find in a Muslim county with mosques dotting the landscape at every turn. It was a lovely boutique hotel. Because we had been unable to have Mass at Anzac cove due to the numbers of people and security at the sites, we had Mass in the hotel basement, again listening to the call to prayer from the local mosque. The cardinal reflected his thoughts that he had shared earlier that day with SMH journalists, that only a country with deeply  spiritual roots could find dignity and hope in a story of defeat. His words were poignant. As dinner had been had on the road it was time for a drink up on the 10^th floor, looking out over the lights of Istanbul.

It had been a truly amazing day. The experience of seeing the war cemeteries did not quite have the same impact as it had had on me on the western front; there, they were silent and there was only our small group of 8 at most of the sites. Here, there was little time for silent recollection as thousands of Aussies and Kiwis literally swarmed all over the monuments and grave sites. That was the down side. However the memories of the silence and the emerging dawn on the 97^th anniversary of that fateful day that gave birth to a national legend and identity will remain etched in my mind forever. Lest we forget!