Den (dewhitton) wrote,

War Memorial

I was a bit flippant when I wrote about the War Memorial in Canberra. As you walk into the building you are flanked on both sides by thousands and thousands of names - all the men and women who died in all the wars - and you come to the tomb of the unknown soldier. Then you go into the display halls and look at the relics of the past.

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.

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