There is a faraway place where, towards the end of every April, locals gather in the streets to watch military parades and remember the World War 1 horrors of Gallipoli. The occasion is not known as ‘ANZAC Day’ but is instead ‘Gallipoli Sunday’, and it takes place not in Australia but in the town of Bury, just north of Manchester, England. This is my birthplace.
It would be hard to find any place in Britain where Gallipoli is remembered as determinedly as it is in Bury. During World War 1 this Lancashire mill town (population 50,000 at the time) was home to the Lancashire Fusiliers regiment. This was one of the 84 British regiments that served at Gallipoli, and they lost nearly 2,000 men in the nine-month assault on the Dardanelles. Their landing spot at Cape Helleson 25 April 1915 later became known as 'Lancashire Landing', and it was during the landing on that day that six men of the 1st Battalion Lancashire Fusiliers earned Victoria Crosses - the famous 'six VCs before breakfast'.
It would be hard to find any place in Britain where Gallipoli is remembered as determinedly as it is in Bury. During World War 1 this Lancashire mill town (population 50,000 at the time) was home to the Lancashire Fusiliers regiment. This was one of the 84 British regiments that served at Gallipoli, and they lost nearly 2,000 men in the nine-month assault on the Dardanelles. Their landing spot at Cape Helleson 25 April 1915 later became known as 'Lancashire Landing', and it was during the landing on that day that six men of the 1st Battalion Lancashire Fusiliers earned Victoria Crosses - the famous 'six VCs before breakfast'.
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| Bury men (the 'Bury Bantams') reporting for duty early in the war. Many were to die at Gallipoli. |
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| 'The Lancashire Landing', Cape Helles. |
The effect on the town was profound. After cheering the Fusiliers off to war with romantic ideals, the town reeled as news of the unfolding catastrophe filtered back from the front. By the time the war finally ended three years later nearly 14,000 Fusiliers had lost. Geoffrey Moorhouse’s brilliant book Hell’s Foundations: A social history of the town of Bury in the aftermath of Gallipoli details the profound effect the war had on the town, not only those who lost family and friends, but also those who survived but were maimed physically and psychologically and could be seen on the streets of Bury in dwindling numbers for decades to come. The ‘broken families and broken men’ wanted to ‘forget the war and get on with life’, but decades later the town still marks every Gallipoli Sundayand, much like in Australia, disaster has metamorphosed into legend.
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| Fusiliers march to the parish church, Gallipoli Sunday, Bury, 23 April 1923. |
Gallipoli Sunday isn't as grand or frenzied as ANZAC Day, and Lancastrians have not mythologised the Fusiliers with idealised attributes, but the commemoration has dignity and reminds us that Gallipoli was an international disaster that left its mark on many countries, from India to Senegal to Canada to France and most of all on Turkey.
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| Gallipoli veterans Bob Spencer (Lancashire Fusiliers) and Benny Adams (Manchester Regiment) march on the 75th anniversary of Gallipoli, April 1990. |
I only attend the smaller and more respectful events now, where the flags and the chants are left at home. Today my youngest two children will be marching with the cubs at an ANZAC service in Inala, Brisbane. My eldest two (including my eldest daughter who was also born in Bury) will be at the dawn service over in Gallipoli itself. Hopefully she'll get over to the Lancashire Landing Cemetery there.
(This reminder of one of the many perspectives to Gallipoli is dedicated to the nice Neanderthal gentleman at the train station yesterday who, upon hearing my north England accent, decided I was personally responsible for the Gallipoli debacle. I wasn't even wearing my top hat and monocle.)
(This reminder of one of the many perspectives to Gallipoli is dedicated to the nice Neanderthal gentleman at the train station yesterday who, upon hearing my north England accent, decided I was personally responsible for the Gallipoli debacle. I wasn't even wearing my top hat and monocle.)