I felt sick.
Similar World War I centennial commemorations have not been without controversy.
Last year, the Herald published an article by political scientist Bryce Edwards, which criticised World War I commemorations and Anzac Day events for displaying "nationalism, militarism and jingoism".
The phrases which accompany such memorials, he wrote, such as "sacrifice", "fighting for freedom" and "birth of our nation", sanitise the reality of war.
Gallipoli commemorations have also been criticised for ignoring the Ottoman lives claimed by the Allied offensive, or the horrors of the Armenian genocide (set in motion by the Gallipoli invasion). Plus, thousands are spent on World War I memorials, while the New Zealand Wars are evaded.
To quote historian Vincent O'Malley, "who wants troubling introspection when we can have heart-warming patriotism?"
We do need think about what it is we are commemorating. New Zealand was sent to war in the name of archaic imperialism. Gallipoli was a dirty British game, in which 2779 of our men were needlessly slaughtered. Our boys were the invaders who helped kill 8700 Ottoman soldiers.
Plus, "lest we forget" leaves a bitter taste when our current Government was considering sending troops to Iraq, and successive governments have tacitly supported armed conflict throughout the world.
But one can be against war and honour those it claimed. What I have enjoyed about some of the Wairarapa celebrations and re-enactments was their focus on people. The men who marched for the train and over the hill, sang the old songs, kissed their families goodbye, decorated the outside of their tents with river stones.
In an interview with Midweek, children's author Michelle O'Connell said some of her illustrations in her book The Crossing were inspired by pictures of soldiers marching with toi toi in their helmets. Moments of mateship, bonding, fun and a brief normality.
Men, smiling and fresh faced, who could have been our sons, our brothers, our neighbours.
This is where the focus of our commemorations needs to be -- not the patriotism and the rousing slogans, but the human aspect. And likewise the human cost.
Remembering young men, barely more than 18, thinking they were off on the adventure of a lifetime. Men whose feet ached as they trekked over the hill. Men who made their surroundings beautiful with white stones.
Never mind nationalism -- remember these young guys. And never repeat the atrocities of war.