I never thought that throwing together eight teenagers from around Australia who barely knew each other would work. But strangely enough, it did. More than a historical experience, I found the Simpson Prize trip to Turkey to be an incredible social experience. Of course, there were the other students (including my own cousin), and I felt we all bonded really quickly (whether this is due to our Turkish delight ritual on the first day or just that we get on really well I don’t know). There were also the many other people we met along our travels – Turkish school children, Australian war widows and other young students from Australia and New Zealand. It was truly special to share our experiences with all these people, who, like us, are following in the footsteps of ANZAC soldiers nearly 100 years ago.
Historically, of course, I learnt so much. I greatly expanded my knowledge about the Gallipoli campaign (and wider Turkish history) during the Simpson Prize trip. There’s something truly special about walking in the very same trenches as Australians before us, and it really gives you a greater sense of just how crazy the campaign was – there was literally just meters between some of the Turkish and Australian trenches. Also, walking among the many gravestones really gave me a better understanding of the level of sacrifice involved. We saw graves for young men only a few years older than ourselves, which really did make me think. Would we really consider enlisting for war in just one or two years time? I remember in Shell Green Cemetery seeing a grave for an “A. Biggs”, which really did, for lack of better words, touch me. I’ve since looked at the service records of this A. Biggs – Archibald Biggs, K.I.A. 20/05/1915.
Visiting Turkey has left me with many unanswered questions. Why is it that we, as young Australians, gravitate towards a conflict ninety-five years ago that was clearly a failure for the allies? The representation of Australians at the Dawn and Lone Pine Services was predominantly young, and of course, highly enthusiastic. We were part of this young and enthusiastic crowd – exemplified by when I nearly fell of the stand at the Lone Pine in excitement when I found out we’d be meeting the Governor General!
But asides from the serious aspects, we did of course have lots of fun. From our epic haggling skills in the Grand Bazaar to swimming in the Agean, there were many memorable moments. The Grand Bazaar was all of our greatest shopping fantasies under one roof – our empty wallets on the return trip were testament to that! From shopkeepers singing Justin Bieber to lure us in, Dale being accused of being a sultan with us girls as his harem to a spice seller who told me of his grandfather who fought at Gallipoli, it was certainly the site of many great moments.
At Gallipoli, there was our iconic staging of the famous Shell Green cricket match, charging through the surf of the Agean sea, picking up pebbles on Anzac Cove, and clambering up Artillery Road. Despite our ardent quest to find remnants of the conflict, the best we could do was finding what was (according to all-knowing Andrew) part of a ceramic jug for food storage used by the Allies. To most of us it just looked like a chunk of smooth stone, but there you go! We instead had to satisfy our desires at the Kum Hotel, where they had a huge collection of bullets and the like. Another thing we found in Gallipoli was that it was almost too beautiful. With flowers blossoming next to every gravestone, the Judas Tree in Shrapnel Valley Cemetery in full bloom and the sound of the waves gently lapping the shoreline, it seemed too peaceful a place to be the sight of horrific battles. It took large stretches of the imagination to picture the scene ninety-five years back.
It’s funny the moments about Anzac Day that stick in your memory. For me, it is the day before, at the Kum Hotel, watching Peter Weir’s Gallipoli with the War Widows Guild tour group. Many of the women, who’d had fathers serving at Gallipoli, found it too much and had to leave. I spoke to one, Beryl, whose father had been a member of the 10th Light Horse, but had not been a part of the bloody battle of the Nek as he’d been on a hospital ship sick. These women are some of the last direct links we have to the Anzacs, and I found it so special to be able to talk to them. As each generation gets more and more distant from the men who went out to Gallipoli ninety five years ago, I think it is increasingly important to hear these stories before they are lost. On Anzac Day itself, it was at the end of the Lone Pine service, when the band struck up ‘I am Australian’. Normally not such a fan of this song, even I joined in as the thousands of Australians in the stands united to sing. On reflection, it seemed such an odd moment – standing above the resting places of Australian soldiers, the pomp and ceremony over, all joining in to sing of our unity as a nation in the middle of Turkey.
On that last day in Istanbul, driving on our beloved, koala-bedecked minibus back to the airport, I really didn’t want to leave. I know I’ll be back though – Turkey is one of those captivating places that really does cast a spell over you. Maybe next time I’ll fulfill my desire to find a Turkish bebek (for those of you not in the know, it means ‘handsome’, or literally, ‘baby-faced’) husband who can cook! But for now, it is not so much goodbye, as au revoir. Until next time, Turkey.
