Gallipoli is a striking example of place identity. Bob Hawke fancied that Anzac Cove is ‘a little piece of Australia’ and John Howard postulated that the Gallipoli peninsula is ‘as much a part of Australia as the land on which your home is built’. We have been told for decades that Australian soldiers sacrificed their lives there for our freedoms. If anything, the notion of ‘sacrificing for freedoms’ is truer for the Turks. The Turks were defending their land from invasion at a cost of over 50 000 dead – the Anzac count was 10 000. For Turks, every piece of soil at Gallipoli is sacred.

Historians, Mark McKenna and Stuart Ward, wrote in their essay ‘An Anzac Myth: The Creative Memorialisation of Gallipoli’:

'Turkey and Australia have rushed to memorialise a romantic image of Gallipoli – one of co-operation and friendship. As admirable as these intentions might be, they are based on falsehoods and the misrepresentation of war. Far better a friendship that has the courage to confront war’s brutality and the senseless loss of life that occurred in 1915'

WATCHERS OF THE WATER
(Paul Hemphill)

It is the night of April 25th, 1915. The Turkish soldiers are waiting for the ANZAC assault on Gallipoli to begin …

The sun's fiery furnace beat down upon our backs
As we fixed our sharpened bayonets and shouldered heavy packs
We marched in ordered files to destiny that day
In a land God had forgotten, due east of Suvla Bay

And in the hills so rough and rugged, we hauled our guns by hand
Raised the shells upon our shoulders to the heights we must command
We watched and prayed and waited, each heart beating like a drum
We all had our eyes on the seaward horizon to west where they would come

And the cold moon she rose on the watchers of the water
The stars hung brightly high above the trees
And in the warm night-tide, sheep came to the slaughter
From their land so far away across the seas

And when night fell, oh, she fell so soft and silent
We could have been in the Garden of Paradise
And no man raised his voice, not a soul made a noise
Though our blood ran as cold, as cold as ice

And the cold moon she shone on the watchers of the water
The stars hung brightly high above the trees
And in the warm night-tide, sheep came to the slaughter
From their land so far away across the seas

The cold moonlight upon the water glistened
And enwrapped in all of our hopes and fears
As through the long night-tide, oh, we watched and listened
With sharpened eyes and very, very frightened ears

And we saw small boats come sailing from great ships far out to sea
Shells came at us wailing in infernal symphony

And with fists of fire and steel, we were hammered hard that night
And many brave men went to God without the chance to fight
And as the boats drew nearer, oh, we watched with bated breath
We waited for the order and our turn to deal out death

And the cold moon looked down on the watchers of the water
The stars hung brightly high above the trees
And in the warm night-tide, sheep came to the slaughter
From their land so far away across the seas
From their land so far away across

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--Stewie.