Can You Hear the Music

Introduction

Istanbul not Constantinople. We are barely off the ferry and onto the bus…the preliminaries beginning as I request 30 seconds notice before we join in this day’s, same as each day, bus-song. Great fun and now (having had 30 seconds) recorded for all time, a rousing choral group only too pleased to belt out the tune, ably led by the PHBT* logistics team. Though prior to this trip the song amused me it is now a standout, a memory for all time. The tune sets the tone for our day…brings the team together…all are smiling, whilst chattering about last evening’s wind tunnel refreshments. Our 50-minute drive to Gully Ravine continues.

Day Four (18 September): Helles 2

We stop at X beach and walk part way down the slope stopping before we are on the landing. It is a brief visit to learn what happened here but soon we move on to Gully Beach (Y2) where another vessel awaits us lying in state beached. Its metal skeleton becoming increasingly a relic of layered, shredded rust. One day the sea shall have the boat shard as the waves continue with their wake. Nearby the bones of men.

We walk towards a well…likely dug by Joseph Murray, Hood Battalion, Royal Naval Division. Though water lies within its walls we would not drink from it. Best to trust the hydration we carry. Aqua est Vita – Water is Life. A perfect reminder – remember to hydrate…our next walk is three bottles long…and our time here and for all days – the sound of crumpling bottles like the shuffling of cards. Some sounds stand out from the crowd, and this is one for the duration. We move on from the well, card metaphors continue.

Our wander through the dry ravine goes especially well. In 2012 our group had challenges to navigate…I seem to recall sliding across boulders (or at the least very large rocks or was it compacted earth – probably both) in an attempt to move along the path of least resistance. There seemed to be more obstacles as the water in the ravine dictated our need to bob and weave. One was concerned about falling in – though not deep there would be far too much laughter for the remaining day and for the rest of the trip. Here in 2025, there are a few low-level challenges, and the natural rock wall requires two to help me over, but there is no water. I suspect the 2012 challenges remain – that was May…now in September it is far drier, not very green, and so too with wildfires having taken much in its path…we are able to see more.

Along the gully’s carved route I again stand and walk in amazement at this natural place that in 1915 saw medical posts within its contours including dressing stations and first aid posts. I imagine as I wander, what silent sounds rebound within these walls…their stories are being told again as we walk through this part of history. Hmmmm 1915…2025…110 years later. We will remember them.

At Nuri Yamut Memorial we sit outside its walls and receive our lunch, meatball sandwiches embedded with chips aka fries, along with bananas, drink and ice cream. While here in Gallipoli each day, time is of its own accord. It takes the time it takes to hike to places, there are always detours in our advance, new finds, new excursions, lunch occurs when we get there. Not as scheduled but always appreciated. As I walk along the wall after re-fueling the call to prayer begins its crest. Indeed most appropriate after all we have seen.

A visit to Redoubt Cemetery, near Krithia, occurs near to day’s end and brings us to a memorial tree planted in honour of 2^nd Lieutenant Eric Duckworth, “B” Company, 6^th Battalion, Lancashire Fusiliers, age 19. The tree is the only private memorial on the Gallipoli Peninsula having been planted by his parents James and Mary Duckworth of Dunsterville, Rochdale in 1922. Though Eric Duckworth was never found, he is commemorated on the Helles Memorial, the leafy oak stands with 2,027 Commonwealth servicemen burials and commemorations.

Reminders of loss continue as we add to our day of learning at Achi Baba a site of great devastation, costly and bloody, in these killing fields and gullies. There was an immense loss of life here, fragments of war are found along our travel lines and, at rest in the crux of a tree, the sting of a projectile lies extinguished but haunting. The trauma still remains in these grounds and waters… though we repeatedly remind ourselves to never let this carnage happen again, with our lives of experience, the knowledge of the days we have now… is it too much to contemplate the actions we continue…after our simple pleasures of lemon ices? Aqua Est Vita…Terra Musicam Habet Is Qui Audiunt (the earth has music for those who listen).

*PHBT (Peter Hart Battlefield Tours)

From notes written 18 September 2025

—SNIP—