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Published: April 14th 2014
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The alarm burst into action at 5.15 am. It was going to be a long day. The Gallipoli peninsula is 320 kms from Istanbul, which meant it was never going to be anything but! The hotel had an option via an expensive tour operator, but I pointed them in the direction of RSL Tours and the deal was struck at 80 Euros per head for an 6.00 am pick up. I was really pleased as we wandered through reception to see the guide already waiting and raring to go. RSL have no connections with the organisation that we'd come to know and love through cheap beer and a feed whilst travelling Down Under, but it makes for a bond with their majority customers. The pick ups didn't run according to plan - they never do when different individual groups, hostels and hotels are involved - but by 7.00 am we were heading out of Sultanahmet in a westerly direction. Or were we? A quick phone call later and it transpired that 2 Kiwis had been left behind. The error corrected, we were back out into the traffic for the off.
Istanbul has a population of 14 million and all of
them appear to be heading into the city from a westerly direction at 7.15 am. The traffic is ordered chaos. It couldn't be any different, because it basically could move. We ploughed on - only 300 kms to go then - in Antipodean terms just a Sunday afternoon drive. We were a small group with an equal Australian / Kiwi balance. The guide had an Aussie rules football to make some feel at home. We were the only Brits. The inclusive breakfast was the finest a Turkish service station or roadhouse could offer. Soup, bread, coffee and an egg pastry creation with spinach. We were hungry, so it was all perfectly acceptable. The traffic eventually thinned out and a few kms before the Greek border, we turned left towards Eceabat.
We stopped at a hotel in Eceabat, where as the nerve centre of RSL we acquired lunch and a guide. A couple of the group seperated and departed for Troy. The futility of war is a very obvious feature of any trip to the Western Front, but the geography of the Dardenelles and it's strategic importance as a shipping channel - the gateway to the Bosphorus, the Black Sea
and the heart of the Ottoman Empire - was immediate! At this point, it is a mere 1.2 kms wide. Lives were lost in Belgium fighting over high ground, that was no more than the height of a man on a horse. This narrow shipping channel controls a lot of the eastern Med. Cankkale was visible through the driving rain on the Asian side. Merchant ships of all nations sailed on through the channel in the mist and cloud. The British originally had a plan to sail straight through the straits, which came unstuck when the Turks fired back from their heavily guarded positions. The plans then commenced for landings to circumnavigate the defences. The Anglo French forces landed on the peninsulas southern beaches and the ANZAC troops further north. The guide enquired whether there were any among us with relatives who had participated in the campaign. One among us, who lived partially in New Zealand, advised of his Grand Father was part of the Lancashire landings and the guide expressed a view as to just how lucky he was to have come home. History somehow overlooks the sacrifice and casualty rates on the southern beaches. However, today was all
about the ANZAC landings in the north.
We moved on from Beach Cemetery, where grave of John Simpson is located, to ANZAC Cove. The first impressions of ANZAC Cove are that it is very small. It is difficult to absorb the old photographs of vast numbers of men and equipment on the tiny beach with what you see before you today. After the driving rain at lunch time, the sun had appeared by thetime we reached the ANZAC Commemorative Memorial site. The relative tranquility of the afternoon was disturbed by the final preparations for the next invasion for the ANZAC Day services. The Sphinx and the sandy cliffs loomed high over the location. There are many accounts about the reasons for the ultimate outcome of the landings. Right beaches? Wrong beaches? The reality was with the information available and the limited numbers of Turkish defenders, the landings had the potential to succeed. The visions I have from watching the move of the same name was that the Allied forces were cut down on the beach and no progress was made. The reality again was that the Australians pushed on inland to Lone Pine and the Kiwis to the high
ground at Chunuk Bair before stalemate set in. The two sides dug in just a few metres apart. Ataturk rallied the Turks and moved the reserves into place to hold the line. The scarifice of the Turkish 57th Infantry Division is commemorated at a huge monumnet near The Nek. Eight months later, the Allies slipped away without achieving their aim.
I've read another Traveloblog account, which recalls their guide stating that the Turks suffered 86,000 casualties to defend their country and the Allies suffered 82,000 casualties to gain nothing. Not so! The ANZACs gained the eternal recognition of their respective nations. Lest we forget.
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