Gallipoli draws young

Press, 27 April 1984, Page 6

Gallipoli draws young

By STUART PARKER, AAP (through NZPA) Canakkale Anzac Day at Gallipoli began with a dozen young Australians and New Zealanders braving the cold and rain to watch dawn at Anzac Cove. It ended with a crate of beer and the strains of, “And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda,” drifting out of a Turkish cafe overlooking the Dardanelles. According to tradition wreaths were laid and a minute’s silence observed at each of ' the Gallipoli memorials — the Turkish, British, New Zealand, and finally the Australian memorial at Lone Pine Cemetery. But the day was memorable, not just for the simple and moving ceremonies marking the sixty-ninth anniversary of the Allied landings at Gallipoli. It was a reminder that the spirit of Gallipoli can still attract young and old, who come thousands of kilometres to the bleak hillsides to remember the day Australia and New Zealand came of age. Among the diplomats and military men were a few World War II veterans,, but more surprising was -30 or

more young “Anzacs” who had interrupted their world travels so that they could say, “I was at Gallipoli on April 25.” Stephen Herington, aged 27, of Sydney, had driven 3000 km to get to Turkey in a Kombi van marked with kangaroos and an Australian flag. “If you’re an Australian, there’s only one place to be on Anzac Day. There’s no way I would have missed it,” he said. The attendance exceeded 150 and Australia’s top diplomatic representative, the Charge d’Affaires in Ankara, Mr Arthur Tansley, said that he was delighted so many had come. “The fact that so many Australians made the effort to get here shows there is still something in the Australian psyche about this place,” he said. Anzac Day at Gallipoli has earned a reputation for informality. Typical of that were the high-ranking Turkish officers who made room in their mini-bus for five young Australians in jeans and jumpers. Typical, too, was the invitation to casual visitors to join military top brass and diplomats in laying wreaths at the national memorials. It was a proud moment

for a New Zealander, John Oakley, aged 60, when he laid a wreath at his country’s memorial at Chunuk Bair. His father, a private in the Canterbury Infantry, was badly wounded at Gallipoli and died in 1962 without returning to the battlefield. Mr Oakley, from Paraparaumu, said, “My mother, who is now 86, has always hoped I’d get here. It’s been a very special day for me.” In the War Memorial’s visitor’s book, Mr Oakley wrote simply, “For my mother.” A distinguished first-time visitor to Gallipoli was Sir Arthur Hokkadey, directorgeneral of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, which maintains the Gallipoli cemeteries. “Spending Anzac Day here brings home vividly what we are trying to commemorate. Last year on Anzac Day, I was at Westminster Abbey, but the informality here makes it all the more moving.” Sir Arthur said that it was particularly satisfying that Turkish authorities were taking part. Turkish officers laid large wreaths at all the Allied memorials and, a_ya sign of respect, the first wreath laid by Com-

monwealth representatives was at the huge Turkish memorial at Cape Hellas. For the second year running another New Zealander, Ted Quinn, aged 27, from Kerepehi, was invited to take part in the wreathlaying at his country’s memorial. “Gallipoli symbolises all our war dead and it marks the emergence of our nationhood. The Gallipoli battlefields still had a special atmosphere,” he said. “I’ve never met anyone who’s been here who’s not thought it a very moving and beautiful place.” The only sour note to the day was the order given to Australian Army Reserve majors on a private visit to Gallipoli forbidding them to wear uniform. One of the majors, who refused to give his name, said that the order had come by telex from the War Office in Canberra, a few days before they left for Turkey. “We were very disappointed. We don’t know why the order was given because as far as the diplomats and war graves officials here were concerned, there was no problem. “There wasn’t a slouchhat in sight, which annoyed us intensely.” A