Here in Gallipoli

By Adriana Cash

The bombs fall,

Shattering the dreams and bodies of the heroic young men

Who so bravely fight for their country in Gallipoli.


The shells of the Turks rifles culling the soldiers like they aren't even human.

The dead fall,

More than half gone.

All I can do is watch,

Shoot back at the area the bullets are coming from,

Waiting for the one with my name on it,

The shell that will mean my end.


The mud, so deep, covers everything,

Up to our knees in sludge we march on,

Ducking and avoided the whistling shells,

Raining down on us from above.


The dirt and mud run red,

With the blood of my friends,

A symbol of the death we are seeing every day,

And warning of what is soon to become of us.


The smell is revolting,

The smell of decay lingers everywhere,

Showing us there is no escape.


Most of the men here won't make it,

They won't make it back home to Australia.

They will never see their families again,

For they will be one of the causalities,

Their names may go down in history,

For being one of the ones that died,

But is going down in history,

Worth losing your life?


I fear I will be one of the causalities,

And join many of my comrades in death,

For the hundreds of men that sailed here,

There will only be a handful of living.


I don't think I will be a lucky one,

And make it back to my family.

When will this war end?

Is the question we are all asking ourselves,

When will we get home or if ever?

When will we see our loved ones again?

When? Is all we can think about.


All I can do is hope,

Hope for a way out of this God-forsaken place,

Hope for a return to our home country, Australia,

Hope for survival.

Hope and faith is what I need,

But that hope will soon be gone,

And all I will have left is the death and blood and guns