A bullet-riddled landing boat from Gallipoli. A diary with a bullet embedded in it. Crosses made from flattened biscuit tins. Statistics of dead and wounded. Trench signs ("This was Villiers Carbonelle"). Tanks. Trucks. Planes. Bombs. Guns. Stories and stories and stories. The Hall Of Valour with the Victoria Crosses won by ordinary soldiers doing extraordinary things.
Memorials. Many, many memorials. The building is a momorial to the dead, the thousands who have no other marker to their graves. No allies or enemies, just the dead.
Across the road is a memorial with a Turkish Flag flying above it. The name Khamal Attaturk is there in large bronze letters.