My birthday boxing day outing was to see a show that a friend was in. It was the story of a group of Kiwi soldiers and one nurse, during World War 1. It was written by a Wellington woman and features songs from the era, and excerpts from letters written at the front.
Today is the first chance I’ve had to write about it, and the events of the past day make it so much sadder and more poignant.
According to the NZ History website:
Each year on Anzac Day, New Zealanders (and Australians) mark the anniversary of the Gallipoli landings of 25 April 1915. On that day, thousands of young men, far from their homes, stormed the beaches on the Gallipoli Peninsula in what is now Turkey. {ANZAC = Australia and New Zealand Army Corps}
For eight long months, New Zealand troops, alongside those from Australia, Great Britain and Ireland, France, India, and Newfoundland battled harsh conditions and Ottoman forces desperately fighting to protect their homeland.
By the time the campaign ended, more than 130,000 men had died: at least 87,000 Ottoman soldiers and 44,000 Allied soldiers, including more than 8700 Australians. Among the dead were 2779 New Zealanders, about a sixth of all those who had landed on the peninsula.
In the wider story of the First World War, the Gallipoli campaign made no large mark. The number of dead, although horrific, pales in comparison with the death toll in France and Belgium during the war. However, for New Zealand, along with Australia and Turkey, the Gallipoli campaign is often claimed to have played an important part in fostering a sense of national identity.
This was a small, local production, and I have to admit some of the acting was a bit hairy. But it WAS preview night, so best to get glitches out of the way then. In one scene, the lads were dancing to “A Long Way to Tipperary” complete with mops, swabbing the deck. One of the mop handles broke, and the owner had to dance the rest of the song waving what was essentially just a broken stick.
But all was redeemed by the singing. There were some lovely voices and exquisite harmonies. My favourites were a couple of songs featuring just the male voices, but they were songs I didn’t know, so I can’t tell you what they were. There were also a couple of beautiful duets featuring one of the soldiers plus his wife back home, in different parts of the stage. Love’s Old Sweet Song (Just a Song at Twilight) was especially beautiful, with the husband’s tenor voice soaring above the wife’s alto.
The show played in April, as we commemorate Anzac Day on the 25th April, with a dawn service, and a public holiday. I am always torn about Anzac Day and the phrase “Lest we forget” that goes with it. They say that if you don’t remember history you are doomed to repeat it.
But there is a fine line between remembering the horrors of war so as to avoid it in future and glorifying it. I’m not saying Anzac Day glorifies war, but looking at the events of the last few days, can we truly say that remembering has prevented any subsequent horrors?
Although Turks and Anzacs slaughtered each other on the battlefield back in 1917, today there is maybe an understanding that they were all just pawns in a much greater scheme (again, just like today) and the dead that were buried on that battlefield were brothers.
On the back of the program were some words by Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, the first leader of the Republic of Turkey:
Those heroes who 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 Mehmets to us where they lie side by side here in this country of ours. You, the mothers, who sent their sons from far away 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.
I want to finish with a Youtube video of Just a Song at Twilight. This performance is by Andy Williams and the (very young!) Osmond brothers in 1963:
Thanks for reading
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