Anzac Cove

They spent the night on the Prince of Wales

Not one of them slept a wink,

Packed like herrings against the rails

It was hard to even think,

They scribbled their final letters to

The folk that they loved back home,

Then briefly thought of the western plains

And the lives that they once had known.

 

They’d never fought in a foreign war

They’d never been far from home,

But were part of the greatest Empire

That the world had seen, since Rome,

They would stay to fight in the fields of France

In the shattering burst of shells,

But first were sent from the Pyramids

To the straits of the Dardanelles.

 

There were miners from Coolgardie

There were farmhand boys galore,

Ready to fix their bayonets

As they closed on the Turkish shore,

The boats were lowered at two o’clock

With the Moon behind a cloud,

And then the pinnaces towed them in,

For some it would mean a shroud.

 

It was said that they’d land at Gaba Tepe

But they couldn’t afford a flare,

The current drifted them further north

So they landed at Sari Bair.

A line of Turks took to their heels

When they saw their bayonets,

But they surged across the beach to find

They were blocked by a line of cliffs.

 

They cursed and they clawed their way up these,

They were stranded in ravines,

The Turks were firing down on them

From the heights that they hadn’t seen,

The second wave got the worst of it

As the boats came in a glut,

The beach was strafed with an enfilade

And they died, still standing up.

 

They saw their mates from the Groper state

Drop dead without a cry,

Face down, out in the harbour with

Their harness, floating wide,

A Digger would curse that he’d lost his hat

Would sit and peer about,

Then blood would gush from his forehead

And you’d know that his lights were out.

 

You couldn’t be still for a moment there

You had to move on ahead,

The snipers up on the heights would

Take a sight, and you were dead.

They pushed on up and they took some out

And the view was better there,

They knew they needed to take the heights

Of the hill called Chunuk Bair.

 

The maps that they had were out of sync

And the scrub was six feet high,

They’d stumble blindly over a ridge

To drop where the bullets fly,

The reinforcements, down on the beach

Were still pinned down to a man,

With half the company out of reach

Or filling their mouths with sand.

 

They never made it to Chunuk Bair

The party was forced back down,

Back on the beach the sea was red

In a fifty yard surround,

The ships were shelling, and overhead

There was shrapnel, flying free,

Most of the officers were dead

And the rest were out at sea.

 

There’s blood on the sides of Chunuk Bair

There’s blood in the hills and plains,

And the bleached white bones of Australian sons

Are revealed in the winter rains,

A nation blooded a world away

From its acres of golden wheat,

Where its people stop on an April day

And they bow their heads in the street.

 

Their losses, they were horrendous

And the Turks lost even more,

Eight thousand diggers had lost their lives

And you may well ask, what for?

They left the beach in December

In the night, just as they came,

And Rosemary grows on the Turkish shore

That engraved the Anzac name!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Michaił Łaszn..]

Very delightful write, David, as always I enjoy reading your stories (in a poem). It took me on a nice little adventure. I like the rhythm. Very well done.

[SteveB]

Magnificent. Strong narrative flow, moving and highly visual use of language. Well done sir. And on a personal note, as I had a granduncle who landed with the Munsters I particularly appreciated this piece.

[carol burgess romance]

I grew up in Newfoundland, Canada ...born 1952 so did not have to experience the terror of my loved ones going to war...grew up listening to stories of such heroric deeds..such a loss of life. As always your words wrap me up in the poem and I can still see the sea turning red...

[Onku Ghosh]

such a wonderful poem.......such vivid descriptions. Going through your poem sent shivers down my spine

[CRAIG A. THOMSON]

Wow! beautifully written, and very harrowing. Your account of the event at Anzac cove (which until now I knew nothing about) made me shiver!
How charmed am I at the age of 61, to have floated through the 60's (Great music etc.) never having to go to war and selfishly, never even giving it a second thought. It's only now, as I get older,and when I read things like this, that I realise how very,very fortunate I have been. God knows, I pray that my Children enjoy the same privileges that I did, for the alternative, as your poingnant verse purveys, is not a happy place to be! Thanks David, You've got me thinking !

[redflutterby]

War is never pretty...the sacrifice is huge. But is it ever worth it. In this case I'd say not. Blood is all they left of themselves...nothing gained for the price. This one of your best David.

[De 'Anthony Subban II]

i loveit write more poems

[Keith]

David, you have in the last 2 minutes sent me on an emotional roller coaster. Immense sadness for the sons we lost, the vivid horror and hopelessness of the battlefield that you just led me through, bitterness as it was such a fruitless exercise and anger that our the Aussies were considered expendable. But, after the shivers down my spine subsided, you left me with an overwhelming sense of Australian pride. As you described, it was the Aussies who took the lead on so many battle fronts. I suspect that the legend of the ANZACs are little known outside of Australia or New Zealand.

Magnificent piece, it should be in stone at the steps of the War memorial in Canberra. Please submit a copy their way.

Thank you.

[Marie]

I think the bravery outweighs the stark tragedy of this poem.