Imagine, it is August 1914. The war in Europe has just been declared. Thousands of Australian men have flocked to the big cities and towns to enlist. Enlist not to defend our country from a ravaging horde of Germans wearing Pickelhaubs (pointy helmets) and long waxed moustaches storming across the border from German New Guinea,
Late in 2014 I was pondering the year ahead. I’d applied for the DVA ballot for the 2015 centenary of the landing at Anzac Cove. I had applied on behalf of my daughter and myself. I saw my daughter as a true ‘daughter of ANZAC’, a father dedicated to the history of the conflict, a
Source: “The Evacuation….. the end of a long road and farewell to cobbers”
One common understanding that we all have about Gallipoli is that it was a tragedy of epic proportions. That men travelled from the ‘Ends of the Earth’ to meet in battle on the plains, ridges, gullies and beaches of this beautiful place. A place that has seen the clash of civilisations for longer than the
Following William Henry Ebbitt of the Wellington Mounted Rifles………. a pilgrimage with William’s son.
I know I harp on continually about how everyone either comes to Gallipoli with their own story. Either loaded up with facts and figures of their relative’s time here during the campaign. Or they come totally afresh, with no family connection at all. Just a thirst to explore this part of our history. To walk
The first thing that comes into my head as we round the headland into the sleepy seaside hamlet of Eceabat are the words of Aussie songwriter John Williamson…… “At the Boomerang Cafe, where I first met you…..” Back in 1996 after I’d ventured far from my home in Melbourne. After I’d opened a bar in