This is a piece I wrote for Spook Magazine upon the centenary of the Gallipoli landings back in 2015. Unfortunately, Spook went bust and vanished from the web. The piece — indeed, the magazine’s entire online archive—vanished with it. I’m resurrecting it here for the simple reason that nothing about ANZAC Day or the way Australia talks about it has changed in the intervening years. The piece has been lightly edited.
A couple of years ago, after a brief stint in Israel and the West Bank, I met my parents in Istanbul, where I had lived a few months earlier, and set about showing them the sights. My father was keen to visit Gallipoli, which my mother was not—“I’ve seen my share of war cemeteries,” she said, in reference to a previous visit to the Western Front—and I volunteered to accompany him in her stead.
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