Queenstown RSA president David Geddes and his wife, Maryann, visited Gallipoli for Anzac Day commemorations last year. Mr Geddes spent 21 years in the RNZAF, including service in Vietnam, and while in Gallipoli visited a memorial panel at Lone Pine, where his maternal grandfather's name is listed. He left a memorial "to the boys of the Wakatipu". Today, he recounts his experiences for Queenstown Times readers in the lead-up to Sunday's Anzac Day commemorations.
I didn't really know what to expect when I arrived at Gallipoli for the 2009 Anzac Day commemorations.
Before leaving New Zealand we had read that the RSA and others were discouraging people from attending the ceremonies there, and we had questioned if the crowds and associated security might limit our access to some of the areas which we wanted to see and experience.
We wondered, too, if the group environment in which we were travelling would allow us sufficient time to do all the things we wanted to do.
There were quite a few unknowns and doubts as our coach approached the Turkish Peninsula, which has become so deeply ingrained in our national psyche, but it soon became clear this was going to be an experience of a lifetime.
Turkey and Egypt had been on our travel radar for some time but as both countries were a bit off the beaten track, the chances of getting to one of them, let alone both, seemed increasingly remote.
But that all changed in late 2008 when, quite by chance, I came across an advertisement on the internet which made it all possible.
The advertisement highlighted Gallipoli and El Alamein as the key ingredients in an Anzac tour of Turkey and Egypt - both countries in one hit, the dawn service at Gallipoli and a visit to those famous battlefields seemed too good to be true.
Coming from a military background, where the study of the campaigns at Gallipoli and El Alamein were part and parcel of our training, I had long hoped that one day I might be able to see for myself these battlefields and better understand what happened there.
I had other reasons, too. My mother's father was killed at Gallipoli, and while this had not been a point of discussion within the family it had, nevertheless, become a personal mission to visit the site where so many young fathers, sons, brothers and friends had lost their lives so needlessly.
El Alamein had a personal touch, too. I well remember as a young lad being captivated by the stories of family friends who had experienced the battles of the North African campaign and life in Egypt.
Quite a bit of the time leading up to the trip was spent reading and researching Gallipoli, in particular, and El Alamein.
Visiting the grave of my grandfather, Sergeant Michael Francis Ryan, was a must, of course, and we also had a grave to visit at El Alamein.
The Commonwealth War Graves Commission website is a great source of information and we soon found out that my grandfather, like so many thousand of other casualties of the Gallipoli campaign, did not have a known grave.
This was a disappointment as it would have been nice to spend just a little time alone with him, a rare chance to show that his family cared, a chance to turn back the years and wonder at the lost opportunities of a life cut short.
My late mother seemed to spend a lot of time on my shoulder - I hope she enjoyed the journey.
We found that my grandfather's name is listed on one of the panels at Lone Pine, so that became our objective.
It took us more than 40 hours from the time we left Queenstown to arrival in Istanbul, thanks mainly to some long waits for connecting flights.
We met up with the rest of our tour group - 22 Australians and four Kiwis.
After another day touring the many sights of Istanbul, we headed off by bus on Friday, April 24, in the direction of Gallipoli, or as it is known in Turkey, Gelibolu.
After a few comfort stops, and meeting up with bus loads of other Antipodeans bearing national flags, we reached that part of the Gallipoli Peninsula which adjoins the Dardanelle Strait and is just like any other coastal strip.
But as we cut across the peninsula to the west and approached Anzac Cove there was a palpable silence in the bus as we contemplated the enormity of what happened on the sea, the beaches and the land surrounding us during those fateful months in 1915.
Anzac Cove is now a peaceful beach which mainly hides its history - the numerous memorials and cemeteries which flank it are a reminder, and the old photos and artists' impressions help put things into perspective.
The main impression of Anzac Cove was how small it is; maybe that helps explain why, in the darkness of the opening stanzas of the campaign on April 25, 1915, it was misidentified for the planned landing beach a mile or so to the south, a mistake which ultimately led to the tragedy which we now know simply as Gallipoli.
At the far end of the cove we came across the first of the many cemeteries (32 for fallen soldiers of the Commonwealth alone) which are dotted throughout the old battlefields, an early reminder - if it was needed - of the scale of death and destruction that had occurred on the very ground on which we were standing.
From the beginning to the end of the Gallipoli campaign more than 130,000 soldiers and sailors were to die here and another 260,000 were wounded. Sobering stuff.
We spent quite a bit of time in the Anzac Cove area and visited two of the cemeteries where there are more than 500 identified Anzac graves, along with several of those unidentified graves, marked as "Known only unto God".
We left poppies on some of the graves but wished we could have visited every one and left a poppy. While this was obviously not possible given the huge numbers of casualties, we still felt that we had let our boys down a little. I am sure they would have understood.
The other thing which stood out in the Anzac Cove area was the landscape. Instead of the gently sloping ground they were expecting, the near-vertical cliffs and crumbling ground above the beach at Anzac Cove, topped with very spirited Turkish defenders, would have been a terrible shock to the Anzacs as they came ashore.
The questions which went through my mind on a number of occasions were: was there a Plan B when things were going so horribly wrong? And why did they not revert to the original plan by conducting later landings at the original beach to the south?
It would not seem to have been a major problem moving those ashore along the beach to the correct location, certainly less of a problem than having to continually face the ferocious fire of the Turks lying in wait above Anzac Cove.
But they didn't, and the rest is history.
One hopes that political and military leaders did learn from the mistakes of Gallipoli, although given the similar failures and problems encountered in later wars, one is left wondering.
From Anzac Cove we headed for Lone Pine which is the main Australian cemetery at Gallipoli and along with the memorial, which also commemorates over 700 New Zealanders, is very impressive.
It didn't take us long to find the name of my grandfather among the almost 5000 names and we spent a few emotional moments together.
We had come well prepared and were able to leave a poppy and a memorial cross with poppy attached to the wall beside his name -not much for what he and his mates had sacrificed, but certainly given with much love and feeling. Once again, my mother and the rest of our family were firmly on our shoulders.
From Lone Pine, we drove further inland and uphill, passing cemeteries and battlefields with now familiar names like Quinn's Post, Shrapnel Valley and Walker's Ridge, before arriving at Chunuk Bair, which is the site of the main New Zealand memorial.
We were surprised to find that the cemetery there is quite small - most of the known New Zealand graves are spread throughout the battlefields. Probably because of this, Chunuk Bair has become the focus for the New Zealand casualties and many New Zealand names adorn the memorial there.
We had one more mission while we were at Chunuk Bair.
While New Zealand as a whole suffered dreadfully in Gallipoli and World War 1, there were few regions that suffered as badly as the Wakatipu. It was with much pride that we left a memorial cross with poppy at the Chunuk Bair memorial, with the simple inscription "To the boys of the Wakatipu, from the Queenstown RSA".
We were all quite emotionally drained from our time at Gallipoli and once again it was a quiet bus as everyone worked through the experiences of that afternoon.
It was to be a short night as we were up before midnight to catch the 1am ferry back across to Gallipoli, where we arrived about 1.30am.
This was the bit where we wondered if perhaps we really should have avoided being there for Anzac Day, and when we were given a label which showed our bus was number 216 we thought we probably should have been back in New Zealand.
A pleasant surprise was in store for us. We were able to drive our bus to within a kilometre of the site of the dawn service, and from there it was a quick walk to the security barriers.
The airport-like security was very thorough and respectful, and once through, everyone was presented with a bag of goodies - informative books, the order of service, a poncho in case it rained, and various souvenir items.
The Turkish organisers, along with their Australian and New Zealand helpers, had clearly done a superb job of organising everything in a welcoming and friendly manner.
The site for the Dawn Service was on one of the few flat areas around, adjacent to the beach to the north of Anzac Cove.
When we arrived about 2am the temporary stands and much of the surrounding ground were quickly filling with people, including the many who were sleeping out overnight, so we were lucky to find some seats in one of the stands.
With the temperature hovering around freezing we were very lucky the breeze soon died awayand we were left with a brilliant, calm and clear morning.
About 4.30am the official party started arriving for the service, coinciding with a moving display of coloured searchlights traversing the surrounding hills, the very ground which exactly 94 years ago was turning into the killing fields which had eventually brought us here today.
The service was everything we hoped it would be. There were beautiful words spoken with feeling and passion in a sombre and utterly respectful atmosphere.
The involvement of all former adversaries reflected the close bond which now exists between the Anzacs and the Turks.
As the dawn broke and the surrounding hills slowly came into view it was easy to imagine the despair which must have been felt by the Anzacs as they contemplated the difficult, and ultimately insurmountable, task that lay ahead of them.
All of this coupled with the haunting words of the Ode of Remembrance and the wonderfully generous words of Turkish Commander Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, the founder and first President of Turkey, made for a truly special and memorable occasion.
For most Australians and New Zealanders, Anzac Day and Gallipoli are about remembering our fallen servicemen and women.
Our visit had started off with this in mind but we quickly came to realise that the Turks had also suffered unimaginable losses ( more than 250,000 casualties) during this campaign.
We quickly developed a genuine respect and empathy for the Turks. We were amazed at the number of everyday Turks who knew about Anzac Day and how important it was to us.
As we drove away from Gallipoli, I could not help but reflect on the experience of the previous 24 hours. It had been a powerful and unforgettable experience.
We had shed tears for the lost souls of Gallipoli and for those who felt that loss the most.
We had remembered the survivors who without complaint must have relived the hell of Gallipoli every remaining day of their lives.
We had shared but a brief moment with them, but now it was time for us to move on, to let the heroes of Gallipoli rest in peace.
In the early light of that day we had looked back, we had embraced the memory of those brave souls, and we had honoured their sacrifices.
We had remembered them.
• Mr Geddes' article, parts of which have been edited, was first published in an RSA newsletter in May last year.
