by Jobey M

Created on: October 08, 2007

Gallipoli remembered

" Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives...! You are now lying in the soul of a friendly country, therefore rest in peace. There is no differences between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side here in this country of ours...
You, the mothers who sent their sons from far away countries wipe away your tears. Your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land they have become our sons as well."

ATATURK, (1934).

John stood on the sandy banks overlooking the beach at Gallipoli and looked around him. Seeing some of the relics scattered around in the weeds; part of a trench here, a rusting gun there, brought back vivid memories of events that had happened to him so long ago.
John had returned for a funeral, and to pay respects to a friend. This was a friendship forged in an old battle, on an old battlefield.

John had been fighting for 2 Months now. The Turks will be a push-over', the Brass' had told them. John was new to fighting, but this didn't seem like a push-over to him. He had lost a lot of friends on this piece of land, a piece of land for which he little understood why he was fighting.
And now it looked as if he was going to die here. He assumed when he set sail, he was headed for France and the Western front. At least there he would have known what he was fighting for.
John wondered how long he had been here. He had been part of a charge on a Turkish trench. He and his pals had made it halfway to the trench when a Turkish shell exploded just in front of them. All his pals were killed instantly, John was very seriously injured, shrapnel had taken a big chunk out of his left leg and his left arm was broken. Somehow he had managed to drag himself into the hole left by the shell. The fighting had long since stopped, the outcome of which John didn't know, and was well past caring. John tried calling out to his lines for help, but knew he was too far away for them to hear his weak cries. The night had been very cold, but now the sun was up and making him extremely thirsty.
Sometime later, John had no way of knowing how long, the sun started to grow dim.
Slowly a face materialised in front of him. Although he couldn't focus, John could tell it was a Turkish soldier. This is it', thought John, and steadied himself for the stab of the bayonet he knew would be coming.
But it never came, instead the Turkish soldier kept repeating the name of John's sister, Sue, Sue, Sue',

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