My War – Revised Edition

27^th October 1984:

As I walk through the fields, gun shots again ring through my head and send shivers down my spine. Poised like a snake in the mountains, they ambushed us, taking us by surprise. That moment flashes vividly in my mind. The great big Turk that was charging towards me was taken down by a fellow comrade. It came at a price. He was soon on the ground, screaming for help. We could do nothing. The wounds were too serious. He knew this. He took out his gun and before we could do anything, he died from self-inflicted wounds.

This is Gallipoli, this is where I died.

Kelvin Jones always used to tease me about how I looked like an 18 year old. Always picking on my short moustache or my long, skinny legs. He would call me a coward because I didn’t enlist for the Great War. I would walk home scared, terrified, with him running behind me calling me names. I didn’t want that. I just wanted to be a normal 17 year old. My mother had gotten used to seeing me come home with black eyes and blood dripping down my face. She would constantly remind me that I was an intelligent boy that I should not worry about Kelvin. I knew this was true but when it went on day in, day out, it was hard to ignore. One morning, I decided enough was enough, I lined up at the enlistment building. It was only 9am but the line was curved around the building. I told my parents that I was visiting a friend in the city. I hated lying but I knew I had to. I was getting bullied. It scared me and I couldn’t deal with it anymore. It was now my turn. I told them my name, Walter Kingfisher, my address, 31 Barkley Street, and then it came to my age. I told them I was 19 and without any hesitation, they let me through. The look on my face must have almost given me away, but was remembered of the dangers before long. Then was the general health test, I passed with flying colours.

After many long months of training in Cairo, we were told to board a ship, not knowing the destination. We landed at ANZAC Cove. Not our original plan. As soon as we left the ship, we knew this was a bad idea. Before we even stepped out of the lifeboats, the guns were firing. Good mates dropped all around me. Boom! I turned to look back at the ship for reassurance. I was having second thoughts. The ship was already retreating to the safety of familiar waters. As I was wading through the water, I thought of home. I wondered what my family thought when I didn’t return from my friend’s house? One word came to mind. Fear.

I was amongst one of the lucky ones that survived the landing. My comrades and I all headed for the treacherous landscape ahead of us. Some of them had wounds that needed looking after but we didn’t have time. Our battalion stopped when we were as covered as we could be. I was not one that liked the sight of blood so I busied myself with checking out our new surroundings. It was very mountainous. I began to think about what a beautiful place this was and how sad it was to see it surrounded with war. Two of my closest friends died during the landing. I said a silent goodbye to them reflecting on how I was lucky to know them.

The sound of gunshots brought me to my feet. How long had I been asleep for? My mind began to wander to home. Home sweet home. I was bought back to attention by a sound in my right ear. I turned around to see Baz standing there impersonating a Turk. “Very funny” I said in a sarcastic tone. Baz is known to be the joker of the group. In a way, it was nice to have some humour. Everything was so serious that we needed some humour every now and then. Everyone except me was laughing. I was able to crack a smile though. Everybody was telling me that I needed to lighten up.

We stayed two nights where we were before we were ordered to move. Groans and sighs became louder and louder. After hours of forward movement, we settled down at our next stop. I began to talk to Garry who lived in Darwin. Over time, he became what most people would describe as a father figure to me. He told me one day that he hadn’t told anyone that he was enlisting for the army. He would often tell us that he was having second thoughts about being in the army and he would drill us on what to say to his wife if he died. He died later that week after being shot in the stomach and receiving a life-threatening infection.

The funeral was not what he deserved. Because we were in a warzone, the service was very quick. Baz conducted the ceremony. He talked about our time together and then recited a verse from his pocket bible that he carried around with him. After the ceremony, Baz and some of my other mates buried him as best they could under the conditions.

After Gary was buried, I was left with the task of writing to his wife explaining his death. I really didn’t know what was harder, storming the beach when we first landed or writing this letter. It took many attempts to get the letter right. I only hope what I ended up writing was good enough.

The Battle of Lone Pine was the first major battle that I fought in. It was the second day into the battle when I was shot just above the knee. Blood freely flowed from my leg onto the ground as I stood up and continued to fight. Everyone told me that I should go be evacuated. I didn’t want to look like the coward that was sent out of action because of a gunshot wound. More and more days passed and my mates became very agitated. My leg was now purple and I had no movement in it. They persuaded me to seek medical attention.

I was taken by stretcher bearers to a make shift tent and one I arrived there, I was whisked into surgery. I was never told what was going to happen until it had already been done. It seemed like days had passed when I came around even though it had just been 3 hours. I automatically looked at my leg. The only thing I saw was the upper part of my leg. I started to thrash about. I remember thinking that I didn’t consent to this and I didn’t even have an opinion on what happened.  The doctor came soon after I had had my fit. He said that the bullet had ruptured blood vessels, gone through muscles and damaged the bone. It was the only thing that could be done. The bad news was not over yet. He said that I wouldn’t be able to return to service. It took a while for this news to sink in. I asked to see Baz. Baz came the following day with a few more of my mates. He said that he had a friend in the exact same situation as me and he knew what was going to happen. I pleaded him to talk to the doctor and try and see if I could continue but Baz just shook his head. He spoke to me one last time, and then left. That was when a part of me died.

I was taken to one of the hospital ships and sent home to Melbourne. I spent the whole trip on a stretcher, immobilized and angry. Why me, I would think to myself. I had wanted to get away from all the torment and now I was going back to where it all began. Many of my waking hours were spent thinking about Mum, Dad and Edith. I was very worried about what they would say to me. Would they be angry? Would they be proud?

It took many weeks to get to Melbourne. All of the men that were able to walk disembarked the ship first. These were the moments where I was getting very nervous. I asked to go with the physically able. They let me. I saw my mother, father and sister not far away from the dock. Edith was crying. She had not seen me like this before and then I started to cry too. She was the first one to embrace me. She had grown a lot during the time I was away. She said to me that I was her hero and that she would care for me until I was better. I felt an ache in my temple. I could tell that she really meant this and she wasn’t just trying to be nice. Next to come to me was dad. I had never seen dad cry before this moment. He wrapped his arms around me and said how happy he was that I was home. Lastly, mum came over and started to apologize about everything that happened before I went away. She said that she should have interfered when I was getting bullied and how she was too harsh on me. We made it into the tram and made our way home.

I was very surprised to know that Kelvin had come to see me. As he walked in, I could see he was apprehensive. He sat down at the end of my bed. There were a few minutes of silence before Kelvin started to pour his heart out to me about how sorry he was about making me go enlist. He said that he was the one responsible for making me lose my leg. As he was talking, flashbacks played in my mind. Him telling me that I was a coward, me enlisting for the army, lying to my mum and dad. I was bought out of this state when he started to talk about his brother. I had seen his brother around but I have to admit that I didn’t pay very much attention to him. He explained that his brother had moved to England and enlisted for the war. It was only a week into the war before he was captured and killed. As this was being said, tear were streaming down Kelvins face. He said he never wanted me to go to war but he needed someone to take his anger out on. We both sat there for a second before he stood up, came to my side and gave me a hug. As the hug went on, all I could hear was him whispering I’m sorry over and over again. This was when I knew that he truly meant it. A true friendship had just been formed.

Now, looking back on those times, I feel that I made the right decision. I married a lovey woman named Eliza Walker. My sister kept her word and tended to me for the remainder of her life. She died in 1979 due to a heart attack. Kelvin and I are still good friends now and spend our time talking about both the good and the bad times throughout our lives.  Taking the trip to Gallipoli made me realise that even though part of my soul died during my time there, it made me a better person. I turned into a person that overcame physical obstacles and to never give up.

Taking a trip back through these mountains was very special. This is Gallipoli, This is the war that I survived.

Ella Bibby 25/3/2018