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The sign said ANZAC Cove. I knew of this place and its significance well.

I got a good photo of my friends.


With a chilling wind whipping around our ears we wandered down to the water's edge.

The Aegean Sea quietly lapped against the pebbled beach. Rising from this were grass-covered banks.  

  These gave way to intimidating cliffs and valleys where even the scrub dared not impose. Waves continued to stretch forward. For a brief moment, the swell seemed to claim its ground before it reluctantly resigned itself to the inevitable - retreating back to the sea.

If this beach could talk, what stories would it tell?

Would it be the stories of thousands of young men jumping from the landing crafts into the sea; or clambering onto this very beach as bullets hissed through the air around them? Desperately seeking shelter from the shells bursting above them. Confusion. Where were their mates? What were they supposed to do now?

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Fear. Were they going to die?

I held a pebble from the beach to remember their stories

 



Read more about the Gallipoli landings from a New Zealand based site
Read more about the Gallipoli landings from an Australian based site
Read about the Gallipoli landings from a British perspective.

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