Gallipoli

• Jack Mansell, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2010

1915
Gallipoli, Turkey


John Parker rowed as hard as he could, blocking out the sight of bloodshed around him, Steve Harper, his best mate, rowed beside him toward the beach. Struggling to fight back tears, John rowed thinking what he had got himself into, why couldn’t he have been a doctor instead of enrolling in the damned army, he thought it was a good choice at the time, but he realised when the shooting started the mistake he had made.

Landing on the beach was a relief and gave John hope, but the sight of his innocent mates being gunned down beside him made him scream “I will come up there and kill you with my bare hands you little bastards” at the Turks on top of the cliff, not sure that they heard him, and tears flowing down his cheeks, at least I still have Steve he thought to himself, a glimmer of light in and endless black tunnel of darkness.

“This is a bit of a Pandora’s Box” Steve shouted, his humour still there despite the carnage.
“Well where’s the butterfly?” John replied, suddenly forgetting about the need for focus. The two soldiers ran through the soft, bloodstained sand, their feet sinking every time they stepped down towards the cliff face firing their Enfields randomly at the Turks, taking every bit of anger out on the equally innocent Turks.

When they reached the cliff, they knew that they couldn’t be shot by the machine guns as they could only be fired forwards, their only danger was snipers. They looked back over the beach, examining the bodies trying to warn the men to stop coming, but the carnage and bloodshed continued, poor and foolish men dying for their country. John thought to himself “I don’t even know what we’re fighting for; to me this looks like mass murder.”

The trek to Lone Pine was muddy and long bringing much pain to the soldiers, and when they finally reached Lone Pine there was already a few dead soldiers, crumpled on the dirt.

John and Steve were instructed into a trench and told never to move without their rifles. They met the rest of the trench and were shown around by the sarge in their trench. They had to sleep on the rocky floor only the higher ranked soldiers were allowed to sleep on the sacks.

For ages there wasn’t much movement, just scouting around and living in their “hell hole” as the soldiers had named the trench. Until the morning of the 6th August, the soldiers were woken up and briefed about their mission: take Lone Pine, to take place at 5:30pm that evening when the sun was in the Turks’ eyes.

When the first attack of ANZACs moved out they were astonished to find that the objective (the Turkish frontline) was barricaded with logs and soil allowing the Turks to fire safely behind their cover at the ANZACs pulling down the barriers.

More ANZACs moved down entering the trenches and fighting the Turkish soldiers with knives and guns, grenades too risky in the trenches. John and Steve were called into the trenches and quickly prayed and the grabbed their rifles and followed the soldiers into the dark and deadly trenches, the smell of fresh blood hung in the air as John and Steve fought through the masses of Turks swarming them.




Steve fell with a shout “Leave John, Go!” the final words of Steve Harper. John stood in shock, not wanting to believe his eyes that Steve was gone, but reality sank in when he was knocked in the back of his head with the butt of a rifle, he fell, faking his death, the Turks moving through the trenches, killing the ANZACs. The Turks were gone and had captured the ANZAC trenches, but most of the ANZACs had escaped hiding while the Turks took their trenches.

John moved stealthily through the trenches, knowing that if he was seen he would meet up with Steve again, in Hell. Rejoining his allies was difficult knowing that he was a goner if he was seen but he eventually made his way back to them feeling safe. But soon the Turks were counter attacking the ANZACs defending with valour holding on to hope, they defended for five days, Turks falling at a much greater rate the ANZACs giving the ANZACs a fight back eventually taking the Lone Pine objective.

Against his orders, John returned to the trenches and dragged Steve’s limp body under the lone pine and buried him as celebrations went on, engraving into the dirt, “A man who fought for the greater good.” Then walked off to join the celebrations, mixed emotions racing in his head, but quietly assuring himself that he’d granted his best mate’s dying wish and that was all that mattered.