Gallipoli: A Narrative Analysis

I, George Delpratt, have grown up in a time where honour is everything; an era where people believe the sole way to demonstrate true patriotism is to pay the ultimate sacrifice for one’s country. That’s why half the men are here, at Gallipoli. Heroes, they feel the need to be memorialised as heroes. But there’s also those, like me, who are here to defend those they hold in their heart; the ones they carry with them day by day. Every day I imagine them, reminisce while we march like cattle through an ocean of sludge constantly stepping over the soulless reminders of our potential fate. Like now, for example; I dream of my family, as I trudge after my only mate, Alan Thompson, through the trenches which the war has destroyed and abandoned, where
The muddy base of the furrow embraces my face as Alan propels me out of harm’s way. How did the pit fail to shield us? The Turks can barely notice us from their trenches. I seize a glimpse of the home of the enemy and find no sign of life. If it’s not Turks then there’s only one other side in this war, our own. We can’t stay here. These pits aren’t constructed for a strike by your own side. People should at least be intelligent enough to recognise their own men. I search the destroyed land for a saviour, a place of sanctuary. I can’t die now, I can’t desert my family, not like this. And that’s when my prayers are answered; safety appears, a trench that will protect us from the imminent wall of
The worst part is that life goes on. The machine gun doesn’t stop, still searching for its second victim. He’s become one of the men I’ve been walking over, a reminder of the worst part of war. That saying, it’s from our training. Latin, but that’s all I can recall. As I search to find the answer the gunfire dies out.
I can’t help but stare at Alan’s lifeless shell. Alan, the only one there for me, the only one that listened to me as I talked about my family. How am I meant to continue through the rest of this war without him?
“Burada!” a voice booms. Turks, and by the sounds of it the whole army. I can’t escape them and even if I do the machine gun will hunt me down like it did Alan. There’s no avoiding this, it’s the end for me. And that’s when it hits me, it is sweet and honourable to die for the fatherland. Those were his last words. Every fallen soldier, including Alan, has paid the ultimate sacrifice for our country and they are the real hero’s from this war. If I were to die, then it would represent something to my family and my country. Let the Turks come. Dead or alive, I’ve played my part in this war and the legacy I’ve created will not be forgotten. The first enemy turns the corner and I know I’m ready, ready for whatever comes