Garth George: Long may our young make a pilgrimage

You read silly things people say in the newspapers every day but the silliest in recent weeks came from the president of the RSA, Robin Klitscher.

He said young Kiwis should stay away from Gallipoli this Anzac Day because partying Antipodeans might damage the peninsula and disrespect the dead.

Air Vice Marshal (Retd) Klitscher said the thousands of New Zealanders and Australians making the annual pilgrimage were a huge imposition on Turkish authorities, and showing restraint would be "more in keeping with honouring the Anzacs who lie there forever".

Bullshit. The Turks do not find the vast crowds who flock to the Gallipoli Peninsula every Anzac Day to be an imposition - and never have.

On the contrary, when I attended the 90th anniversary observances at Anzac Cove and Chunuk Bair in 2005 I found their reception invariably welcoming and friendly.

The Turkish authorities are highly organised and well-practised at catering for the invasion that comes at this time every year and, if some of their internal security troops and highway police are a tad abrupt, rude and autocratic, they are no different from authorities anywhere.

But they are highly efficient. Tens of thousands of people, carried in hundreds of buses, travel the length and breadth of the battlefields but there are no traffic jams and everything is kept under control.

Turks in general, too, are happy to have us there, as I discovered as I trod the sacred ground of Chunuk Bair, that scrap of high, dusty, scrub-clad land whose name holds the ultimate place of honour in our nation's history.

I encountered a group of Turkish teenagers who, with flashing black eyes and ready smiles and laughter, told me in their almost flawless English that they were pleased to see us Kiwis there.

They were there to honour their ancestors, they said, and were happy that we had travelled halfway around the world to do the same for ours.

And Gallipoli anniversaries are obviously very big business in that part of the world. It's as if an entire local economy is built on proximity to the battlefields.

When I arrived at Anzac Cove just after 1am four years ago on Saturday, thousands of people, most of them young, were already encamped, hundreds upon hundreds of them strewn along roadsides and in every available open space, most wrapped in sleeping bags.
A couple of hours later the atmosphere in that close-packed sea of humanity was cheerful and friendly. Everywhere I walked I was greeted with choruses of "good morning" - in all sorts of accents.

Two huge, bright screens played DVDs of Barry Gibb and the Bee Gees live in concert. The hits included Stayin' Alive and You Should Be Dancin'.

Would those whom we gathered to honour object to the noise and the music, the chatter and the laughter, the eating and the drinking? Hell no. "Go to it," they would say. "Enjoy yourselves while you can. That's what we did."

But as the first hint of dawn crept over the horizon on the Aegean Sea, I sensed an increasing anticipation.

A hush fell on the crowd of 20,000 and climbing. The big screens went blank and an Australian military band played music from the wars, marches and hymns.

If any proof were needed of the significance of the occasion, it was that so many people could be so reverently quiet.

And so they stayed throughout the dawn service, politely acknowledging the odd speech or announcement.

Later, at the New Zealand national service on Chunuk Bair, the feature of the day for me was the presence of so many young New Zealanders.

It was comforting to see them there, free of schoolteachers and university pedants, for they were unable to avoid a stern and valid on-the-spot lesson in their nation's fundamental history.

That's why they're there in their thousands, and why so many more young people are attending memorial services in this country on Anzac Day.

They want to connect with their nation's history, some with their family history too. They are not taken in by the milk-sop pacifism preached in their schoolrooms and lecture halls, or by the politically correct gaps in the laundered history they have been taught.

They want to know where they come from because that helps them know where they are going. It is a wonderful thing and it needs to be encouraged, as it was by Prime Minister John Key in his firm rebuttal of Mr Klitcher's nonsense.

The thousands of youngsters who will attend Anzac services throughout this country, at Gallipoli and elsewhere in the world on Saturday might even go forth from those sacred places with a new understanding of what things like patriotism, duty, honour, courage and sacrifice really mean.

And, lest we forget, that virtues such as those never change.

The Auckland War Memorial Museum's offical Book of Remembrance can be read online. It alllows people to send their messages and memories of loved ones who have served in past wars or to people currently serving in the armed forces. You can also leave messages of remembrance at nzherald.co.nz.