Turkey: Where the Johnnies and the Mehmets lie side by side

Absorbing the scale and futility of the Anzac assault 100 years ago confounds most who journey to Gallipoli. Photo / Thinkstock

On a sombre drive in Turkey, Wynne Gray shakes his head at the futility of the deaths of so, so many young men in a foreign land.

Any visit to Gallipoli is personal. Some want to unload about every piece of information they have read and then seen on the Turkish peninsula, others prefer to ruminate and deliver their feelings later.

Absorbing the scale and futility of the Anzac assault 100 years ago confounds most who journey to the area.

So does the embracing forgiveness by the Turkish president, Ataturk, whose remarkable words less than 20 years after the conflict garnish a memorial to the campaign.

"Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives ... You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side here in this country of ours.

"You, the mothers, who sent their sons from faraway countries wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land they have become our sons as well."

You look at the graves of Kiwis, Diggers, Turks, Indians, Brits, French and Germans - many of them teenagers - and try and make sense of all the elements involved in conflict.

You can take a variety of trips to the peninsula, from a 15-hour day trip from Istanbul, longer tours including stays at nearby villages, or the sort of DIY journey we made.

Our van had a GPS map system but it wasn't until we had set off that we discovered its software flaws. If you asked for an alternate route it baulked, while offering regular encouragement to visit a cafe or attraction that must have been owned by a relative.

After driving through many kilometres of incredible sunflowers the GPS lost its voice as we neared our destination.

Not to fear, we thought, spying directions to the sizeable information centre not far from the turn-off. The doors were shut and a workman explained it had been closed for a few years.

We managed to sort out directions and headed off down the road, past the Turkish memorial to Anzac Cove. Only one busload of curious travellers was there to take in the vista, which in the height of summer and at the annual Anzac Day pilgrimage, must be an oppressive mass of humanity.

We were able to wander around with our own thoughts, travelling between the burial plots shaded by tree cover and standing on the small rocky beach trying to imagine how anyone could consider ascending the adjoining rugged hillside while the Turks aimed their rifles on the invaders.

Shallow foxholes still dot the tree-lined terrain and add to the unusual picture.

We picked up a Turkish couple making their way to Chunuk Bair. They were walking (she in high heels) up the hill, in the heat, without any food or water. A century on and illogical events are still occurring on the peninsula.

In the hills and around the coast, we read the gravestones and monuments at Anzac Cove, Chunuk Bair and Lone Pine, as well as the Turkish memorial, wincing at the number of adolescent victims who were casualties of their time and duty.

Separate statues to the fallen Anzacs are less grandiose but just as arresting as the Turkish Remembrance Wall.

They are memorials to the unquestioned gallantry of those who sailed away to the Great War and reminders of an era we hope does not burden us again.

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Getting there: Cathay Pacific has fares available from Auckland to Istanbul via Hong Kong or Doha.