Chapter 1 - Background
This is a record of my journey to Anzac Cove in 1975. I am writing this almost 39 years after the event, memory can be deceptive so I refer to at times to my travel diary. I might add that that was the first time I kept a diary and I find now some entries are extremely cryptic and at times my handwriting less than legible.
You may well ask why would a then 34 year old, single Australian male, decide to visit such an isolated place? Anzac Cove was not shown on any maps. I will explain:
I was raised in a small country town in northern NSW called Inverell (Gaelic for ‘Meeting place of the swans’, population 8,560). It had a rather large park near the centre of town in which was strategically located a World War 1 artillery piece. Close by was a very large (to a small boy) pine tree, which by local tradition was grown from a seed taken from the Lone Pine ridge at Gallipoli.
Two brothers from Inverell, Ben and Mark Smith fought with the 3rd Battalion at Lone Pine. Mark was killed and Ben souvenired several pine-cones from the pine branches used by the Turks to cover some of their frontline trenches. He sent them home to his mother who successfully grew two seedlings. One she presented to the town of Inverell in 1928 where it survived until 2007. The other she gave to the Parks and Gardens section of the Department of the Interior in Canberra. This second tree was planted at the Australian War Memorial at Canberra in October 1934 by the Duke of Gloucester, in honour of Mrs Smith’s and others’ sons who fell at Lone Pine. Today it stands more than 20 metres tall. [ The Inverell Times, 26 April 2013 ]
The fact that I would discover later was, at that the time of that battle, which began at 5:30 pm on 6th August 1915, no trees existed on that fateful ridge. The stump of one tree is recorded in a sketch made of Lone Pine by Sergeant-Major Goldenstedt, 3rd Battalion, on 30-July-1915. [The Story of Anzac, Vol II, C.E.W. Bean, University of Queensland Press, 1924, p 497]
As a youth I had a passion for history and had read the only book available at that time on the Gallipoli campaign in World War 1 - ‘Gallipoli’ by Alan Moorehead, first published in 1956. The Official History of Australia in the War of 1914-1917, Volumes 1 to VI, by C.E.W Bean, were not available in Inverell during my youth.
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I meet an Anzac
The event that set in motion my decision to visit Anzac Cove was a meeting I had with a 76 year old man in Gosford, just north of Sydney in late 1974. At the time I was working for a company engaged in developing commercial real estate sites and had spent considerable time chatting and drinking tea with the owners of the residential houses which were built on land that had been re-zoned ‘Commercial’. This gentleman emigrated to Australia from England when he was 14 years old. He worked at numerous unskilled jobs. At age 17 he fell in love with a charming Australian lass. Unfortunately she determined he had no prospects and told him to ‘get lost’ He was heartbroken. So he did what many young men did in this situation - he joined the army.
Fast forward to the 6th August 1915 and our heartbroken Private finds himself in a trench on the Gallipoli peninsular along with other Australian troops awaiting the whistle that will send them over the top. They are endeavouring to capture a Turkish strongpoint called Lone Pine. He did not participate in the original landings on 25th April 1915. He had just arrived with reinforcements from Australia.
As a young boy I had been instructed by my parents never to ask any returned servicemen (or women) about their wartime experiences. “Why” I queried. “Because they don’t like talking about it, that’s why.” Being a dutiful son I did as I was told, although now I wish I had been more adventurous and bent that rule. A number of my relatives were returned soldiers from WW2, including uncles Gordon and Ronald, but sadly they are now deceased.
However, back to Gosford. I’m not sure how the conversation with Private Heartbroken got around to Gallipoli, but suddenly I’m being told by this original Anzac (the only one I’ve ever met), that on the eve of the battle of Lone Pine he’s in a trench with a bunch of Australian soldiers. The trench was packed with troops about six deep. What amazed me was when the Private told me, the men in the rear were trying to buy their way into the front rank.
I couldn’t resist expressing disbelief that anyone would want to ‘buy’ their way into the front rank when they were only hours or even minutes from climbing over the top of the trench and running perhaps 50 to 80 meters over open ground to the Turkish trenches. These guys weren’t newcomers like the Private. Many had been there since the landing at Anzac Cove on 25th April. They knew first-hand the carnage enemy machine guns and rifles could cause to troops attacking over open ground. (A lesson unfortunately never learnt by the army commanders of the Gallipoli campaign nor those on the Western Front.)
My final compelling argument was “What would anyone do with money anyhow? There were no shops to spend it. It just doesn’t make sense.”
“Ah,” replied my Anzac friend, “the currency wasn’t money. The currency was chocolate. These men were so upset at the losses they had suffered just by having to sit in trenches for weeks while they were sniped at and bombed by Johnny Turk, they just wanted revenge.”
I considered that for a moment, then disregarding the advice instilled by my parents asked “Did you try and buy your way into the front line?”
He gave me quiet smile and replied “I didn’t have any chocolate.”
I learnt over the ensuing few hours that Private Heartbroken survived the Gallipoli campaign (obviously) and when the Australian, New Zealanders and other British troops were withdrawn from the Gallipoli Peninsular in December 1915, was transferred to the Western Front in France.
“You were very lucky to survive three years on the Western Front. Weren’t you even wounded?” I asked indelicately. He responded again with a smile, that as he and his regiment were marching up to the front line, they happen to pass a couple of British officers. Apparently one officer observed Private Heartbroken was English and asked him if he wanted to be his driver. I must have looked confused. “How did he know you were English?” I asked.
That quiet smile again “My accent laddie, my accent. He heard me talking.” So Private Heartbroken spent the rest of the war away from the front lines driving a British officer from one fine French Chateau to another, out of harm’s way.
“You were very lucky.” I said admiringly.
“Aye lad and that’s not all. When I moved here to Gosford with my wife some years ago, the local doctor advised me I had a bad heart. He said I had five years to live - maximum.”
“How long ago was that?” I enquired.
“Twenty years ago.”
“You must enjoy telling your doctor what you think of his prognosis now.”
“Unfortunately laddie I can’t. He died ten years ago.”
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After this encounter I decided to see Lone Pine for myself. I determined that I would write the definitive book on Anzac after visiting the site. The fact that up to that time I hadn’t written anything longer than a two page proposal for amalgamating a number of building sites to build an 8 story office building was beside the point.
As it happened after many adventures in Turkey, Europe and the U.K. over the following six years I was working in London when Peter Weir’s excellent movie ‘Gallipoli’ was released. I felt then that if I wrote anything relating to Gallipoli it would be seen as just copying the movie. Since then possibly 50 books have been published about Gallipoli. And as it gets closer to the centenary, I venture more are on the way.
Oh, and I never did get to buy my Anzac’s Gosford land either. But he lit the spark that set in motion my adventure of a lifetime.