ENDEAVOUR Hills resident Asanga Seneviratne was among 76 students who represented Victoria at the Anzac Centenary Dawn Service at Gallipoli, Turkey.
The Berwick Haileybury College student shares his journey to Anzac Cove.
“HE DIED that we might live.”
Those were the words inscribed upon the tombstone of 18-year-old Private A.L. Barr as we walked through the Redoubt Cemetery off the coast of Cape Helles on the Gallipoli Peninsula in Turkey.
Private Barr was just one of the 2000 casualties from Australia, New Zealand, Britain and Turkey at the Redoubt and as we stood amongst their tombstones, no one knew who these men were.
No one knew why they had enlisted.
No one knew who they had left behind, yet there was this overwhelming sense of emotion at the sacrifice they had made – a sacrifice not only for the Australians at the time but those Australians to come.
One that would ensure the security of a nation that has blossomed into the free, accepting and prosperous one it is today.
One that allowed me to experience this incredible opportunity regardless of race, religion or background.
One that should be truly cherished.
Yet I’m neglecting the beginning of our trip, with our first two days in Istanbul spent exploring important sites in Turkish culture and heritage including the Bosphorus strait, Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosque, The Grand Bazaar, Hippodrome and the Basilica Cistern.
We then journeyed to the Gallipoli Peninsula, visiting three commemorative sites including the Redoubt Cemetery, the Canakkale Turkish Martyrs’ Memorial and Britain’s Cape Helles Memorial.
Each sites held its own significance in the hearts of the respective nations and it put into perspective the sheer scale of the Gallipoli campaign.
Recognising that those who lost their lives on the shores of Gallipoli were not only Australian but Turkish, British and French among many other nationalities highlighted the wide-reaching devastation of the campaign.
These were the soldiers with the same frightened mothers and sisters, the same unwavering commitment and same pride in their nation who would pay the same ultimate sacrifice.
After a quick stop to see our pen-pals at the Gelibolu Antalya High School, the core of the trip was upon us – the Dawn Service at Anzac Cove.
Passing four staggered security check points and fighting off a lack of sleep we arrived on the banks of Anzac Cove as thousands watched the epitaphs that flashed upon the screen.
In the bitter cold we stood as name after name appeared on the screen, each with its own story to tell.
Each with a mother that had been left behind and a family left empty with its dearest son gone.
Their loss was our loss as we contemplated their valour charging into what was near-certain failure given the topography of the cliff that stood behind us.
As the last post reverberated through the beach followed by an emotional minute’s silence, that moment in time shared by thousands of others alongside me is something I certainly will never forget.
Finally, the singing of the national anthems was undoubtedly an incredibly special moment of pride that reminded me of the reason why those diggers fought so boldly a century ago.
As the service concluded, for all the emotion and sleep deprivation of the past 24 hours, the same message became reinforced in my heart that occurred to me two days before.
It was the sense of serenity while standing on the cliff face in the still silence of a Turkish spring afternoon, observing the convoy of warships from various nations crossing the still waters of the Dardanelles.
This was the way it was supposed to be I realised – calm, still and amiable.
No cries of pain, no hissing bullets and no pounding artillery fire. No war. Just peace.
So many died for this dream and I hope we all make sure we maintain it.
