Strangers, side by side, talking and laughing and forging friendships. Laughter and shouting and people excitedly moving around, singing and grooving to the music, for hours – and I mean hours – on end, with little or no sleep. There’s an atmosphere of anticipation and excitement in the air. It could be a house party or an outdoor concert. But no one’s drinking and there isn’t a hint of drug taking.
The sun has set and there’s a bitter chill in the air. Everyone’s rugged up but spirits are high, very high. We’re outdoors and the voices carrying across the huge expanse of turf and the grandstands are of distinctly Australian and New Zealand origin; there are flags and national emblems being brandished by almost everyone. It could be an international sporting match, but there are no teams and no sides being taken.
It is, in fact, the eve of the Dawn Service at ANZAC Cove in Gallipoli.
Here, it seems, patriotism is the new high.
The 22,000 people huddled here in the cold, have been waiting since four o’clock on April 24. We are waiting and will stay awake, all night, for the sun to rise over the hills and mark the 90th anniversary of April 25, 1915, when 25,000 Australian and New Zealand soldiers landed on the Turkish beach for battle during WWI.
I’m wearing three layers of clothing, a beanie, scarf and gloves, am wrapped in a super-warm sleeping bag, yet I, like everyone else, am still freezing. Thinking of those soldiers – sitting in wait in boats off the coast, then jumping into the freezing waters, running to shore, guns blazing – their efforts seem utterly heroic. Thinking of the 11,000 of those soldiers who died before they even made it off the beach, or before they could scale the cliffs – it seems utterly tragic.
“They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old; Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning, We will remember them.”
And as the ‘Last Post’ sounds, the frivolity and the laughter that helped keep us awake through the long, cold night is replaced with solemnity and tears.
Several hours, still no sleep, and a two-and-a-half kilometre walk later, the Australian contingent is gathered at Lone Pine, the site the Aussie soldiers captured then lost, between August 6 and 9, 90 years ago. Sat in grandstand seating, and on the ground amongst the 4000+ graves, we are in a jovial mood again. The Mexican wave is going around, chants of “Aussie, Aussie, Aussie…” are being shouted to the heavens; flags are being furiously waved. And when Prime Minister John Howard enters the constructed arena, the crowd goes wild and people rush to take photos and press the flesh – as if he is a pop or sports star.
It is more than 20 hours since we arrived at ANZAC Cove, and most of us have been awake the whole time, on top of the six-hour drive from the Turkish capital, Istanbul. More than a day without sleep and almost every single one of us is still beaming with the energy and gregariousness of a party reveler.
Here, it seems, patriotism is the new high.
The enthusiasm and intensity of the standing ovation offered to the military veterans entering the arena makes way for the sombreness of the Australian remembrance ceremony and again, the ‘Last Post’ brings a tear to the collective eye.
Of the 22,000 Australian and New Zealand commemorators, there are many families and pensioners, but the vast majority are back-packers or working holiday-makers based in the UK. Most are also here as part of a package tour, travelling with the same faces they’ve met in the ‘Walkabout’ and ‘Red Back’ Australian-style pubs of England. The same faces they’ve met on other organised tours, conducted by the same tour companies, who advertise in the essential Antipodean read, ‘TNT’ magazine. Our accents are strong, and we feel just as Australian here, on the other side of the world, as we do in our own backyard; maybe even more so.
And as the sun sets again, and we are all travelling home in the convoy of buses we arrived in, more than a sleepless day ago, we are still in high spirits; brimming with our thoughts, feelings and impressions of the ANZAC experience.
It seems, patriotism is the new high.
