What a logistic nightmare it must have been to organize ANZAC Day on Gallipoli Peninsula! Especially in this day and age where we have the potential for some nut job to do harm to others on a massive scale. We came into the registration area and waited in the bus for about twenty minutes, at which stage someone turned up and our passes were scanned, passports confirmed and wrist bands placed on. We then went back into town and proceeded to wait there for another four hours, time for haircut in post below.
At three-ish we reloaded the bus and headed up to begin out trek up to ANZAC Cove we were scanned and our bags checked through a metal detector. They patted everyone down and looked into bags, searched pockets... The lines were long and the wait was long, but that was just practice for what was to come.
At this point we walked and carted our packs for several kilometres, up to the next scan checkpoint, then off again. We walked in a line with thousands of people, up the left hand side of the road as trucks, police, ambulance and police vehicles all using the other side of the road.
The next checkpoint was really slow as we cued to firstly get our tags scanned, then once again a bag search, a pat down, a new tag and we were through. We walked about two hundred meters and arrived inside the makeshift stadium. It was very well set up and manned and security was clearly a priority. Could have been the safest place on Earth for that period of time. Off the coast between the Peninsula and parts of Greece, were massive battle ships, at least a dozen of them. Overhead airforce jets flew in formation and in ones and twos. Along the walk were soldiers in little dugouts in camouflage gear, rifles at the ready.
Inside the stadium area we joined the rest of our group and took our seats. It was about six o'clock and the stadium felt about half full. We watched the sun go down over the Aegean as people continued to pour into the stadium. About nine the stage area lit up and the MC got to work, with military bands, musicians singing the old songs and generally keeping people busy, as the night rolled in. They filled the time with documentary programs on Gallipoli and periodic musical interludes as the people still pouring in and the temperature plummeted.
I can only say it was a long, long night and it was cold and it was uncomfortable and it was sleep deprived. Anywhere else in the world, you would have moaned and complained and possibly left, but we have the privilege to be where our forebears were 100 years ago to the date and in a much warmer, safer position. I could not help thinking about our Grandad, Tom Frean, who was about the same age as Alex stuck in this no win situation, in a cold, wet hell hole, facing death!
I am going to finish this post now, because that is worth thinking about. No humour here.
At three-ish we reloaded the bus and headed up to begin out trek up to ANZAC Cove we were scanned and our bags checked through a metal detector. They patted everyone down and looked into bags, searched pockets... The lines were long and the wait was long, but that was just practice for what was to come.
At this point we walked and carted our packs for several kilometres, up to the next scan checkpoint, then off again. We walked in a line with thousands of people, up the left hand side of the road as trucks, police, ambulance and police vehicles all using the other side of the road.
The next checkpoint was really slow as we cued to firstly get our tags scanned, then once again a bag search, a pat down, a new tag and we were through. We walked about two hundred meters and arrived inside the makeshift stadium. It was very well set up and manned and security was clearly a priority. Could have been the safest place on Earth for that period of time. Off the coast between the Peninsula and parts of Greece, were massive battle ships, at least a dozen of them. Overhead airforce jets flew in formation and in ones and twos. Along the walk were soldiers in little dugouts in camouflage gear, rifles at the ready.
Inside the stadium area we joined the rest of our group and took our seats. It was about six o'clock and the stadium felt about half full. We watched the sun go down over the Aegean as people continued to pour into the stadium. About nine the stage area lit up and the MC got to work, with military bands, musicians singing the old songs and generally keeping people busy, as the night rolled in. They filled the time with documentary programs on Gallipoli and periodic musical interludes as the people still pouring in and the temperature plummeted.
I can only say it was a long, long night and it was cold and it was uncomfortable and it was sleep deprived. Anywhere else in the world, you would have moaned and complained and possibly left, but we have the privilege to be where our forebears were 100 years ago to the date and in a much warmer, safer position. I could not help thinking about our Grandad, Tom Frean, who was about the same age as Alex stuck in this no win situation, in a cold, wet hell hole, facing death!
I am going to finish this post now, because that is worth thinking about. No humour here.
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