Watching the cliffs above the narrow beach barely 3-4-500yards across? Cliffs that were almost sheer, covered with a prickly low-growing bush, like our spiny matagouri? Were you waiting, watching the silent grey hulks as they arrived like ghosts on the skyline carrying their precious cargo of men - thousands of men?

I was. It’s hard, looking back, to know my own feelings. At any rate, I don’t think I was afraid. I just had a mixture of excitement, and wondering what it would all be like.

We’d spent the night before drinking whisky, smoking cigarettes, two and a half thousand men cooped below decks in the holds. Now, I was up by the helmsman, steering towards Turkish searchlights on a calm balmy night.

We were just making headway against the current, shadowy forms of destroyers and battleships slipping past us all the time. Our last hot meal was gone and a large tot of rum was the ration to bolster our spirits. We'd had a service at midnight and now - each man sat by his pack, heavy with bully beef and gear, with the rum sitting on the deck beside him. Anticipating. Waiting.

You could see the padres and chaplains as they moved around, talking. The little red glow of cigarettes lighting up faces as we waited. Then the Armada of ships around us, stopped steaming. Stopped moving forward.

1.30, now 2 am, 2.30. The moon slid slowly down in the sky. Orders were given: "STAND TO ON THE DECKS! SILENCE! NO MORE SMOKING!" So this was the real thing! We stood to in rows facing the water, and we stood by in the dark, waiting, anticipating our next move.

3am. The moon was silently sinking below the skyline. Sailors were silently moving, not a noise of any kind could be heard. The sea was as smooth as glass as the boats were lowered into the water.

3.30am and the moon finally slid down. There were cliffs on the shore, looming up like large grey clouds in the mist. The order came to get into the boats. Each man stood to attention and waved his cap silently in the air!

Rope ladders were swung over the sides - cursed things. We moved slowly forward, as if in a dream, swearing silently under our breath as we swung each foot down, the 90lb weight of the pack, swinging heavy on our backs. Each man was soon seated, gun between his knees, everything accomplished noiselessly.

Our boats were formed in four lines, with a picket boat in front to tow us close to shore and then we had to pull the rest of the way ourselves. Everything was going well. I was amazed at the lack of sound. So many men were there and nothing was heard. I guess the mist must have helped.

Then an accident happened! One of the funnels of the picket boats caught fire and sent a flare up. It could be seen for miles!

Suddenly like a devil out of hell, a voice rang out in the quietness, "You’re going the wrong way! Bear over fast!" But our man wouldn’t move off his course.

The voice rang out again. They tried to force us over by coming alongside. Our man still wouldn’t move. As we came near the shore, the mist began clearing. The first thing we could see was the flash of a huge searchlight. It appeared to come from the headland to our right. Shortly after, there was another one closer to us. Then everything went quiet again, and was still.

Our orders were not to load our rifles and only to fix bayonets once onshore. We were to line up in the dark, holding the sleeve of the man next to us.

Now, the beach was coming up fast and our picket cut us loose. Suddenly a shot rang out from the top of the cliff right in front of us. The echo bounced right along the hills, in the still morning light. And then it happened. The battle began.

We jumped over the side of the boat into the water. In some places it was up to our armpits! Some men were shot, just getting out of the boats. Others were shot in the water and sank under their heavy packs. I landed with the water up to my waist. We were all slipping and sliding on the smooth, treacherous stones under our feet. Spray was dancing in our faces from the bullets. We kept our rifles high but our packs kept pulling us off balance as we slipped and slid in the water.

Onshore, men everywhere were being shot. Men were screaming, terrible sounds! Squealing high pitched above the noise. Units were mixed up. We couldn’t form lines and the men were going down like flies on a dead rabbit.

There was no command, only confusion. Landing on the open beach, the sight was shocking. Dead, dying and wounded lay in all directions, It was hard to stay on my feet, not to trip and fall over them, but orders were not to stop!

Oh.h.h, their crying was pitiful, all grown men. I just put my head down and kept going. Thank goodness I was born a man! I wouldn’t be out of this for anything!

The next day broke with the pale, pink colours of early morning showing a sea lapping blood along the beach, stretching red for five miles from the coast, stretching over the bodies weighed down by equipment. All useless now.

In that narrow cove of beach, the dawn revealed men fallen in tiers of bodies, hiding the sand. Some were still twisting in agony, while relentless waves of men still surged in, eager to gain victory under the hail of bullets.

The ANZACS had shown their confidence and their physical strength the day before, and as the next days wore on, they showed their ability to endure, to grimly hold on.

They had found they were not to stride across the Peninsula, but the Turk would learn that to check their invasion on the hill was one thing, to throw them back into the sea, was another.

AND In that small country
far across the sea
the skies wept,
the mists curled in,
covered the land
and washed away the sorrow
while the tears rolled free.

The mother’s eyes saw
the sons they would never see;
the wives and young women wept
for the lovers they would never know;
the children lost their fathers
whilst sitting on their knee;
and that little country -
buried its sorrow in the mists of memory.

In that bed, where the seas ran red
their manhood died
- to set them free;
In that country
their manhood slept
to give us -
their god children by baptism of fire
- our liberty.