Rt Hon Christopher Luxon
Prime Minister

One hundred and 10 years ago, on the dawn of this day that we commemorate every year in New Zealand, Anzac troops came ashore here, shoulder-to-shoulder with their brothers from half a world away.

Some anticipated an adventure far from home.

But as the sun rose and the shadows drained from the gullies, it was not adventure that greeted them, but horror.

Instead of the peace we feel now, they faced wave after wave of firing.

Each bullet seeming to come closer than the last, as one soldier put it.

Days became weeks, and weeks became months - but only for those who survived that long.

The metronome of gunfire and shelling kept the dreadful rhythm of life in the trenches.

Gallipoli is a name etched into New Zealand’s national identity.

It represents not only this shore and these hills, but the valour that was shown here on both sides, the terrible sacrifice, and the utter tragedy of war.

Some 16,000 Kiwis served here. At the time, we were a nation of just one million people.

Our contribution as a small nation at the bottom of the world, was disproportionate.

What happened here scarred generations of New Zealanders.

While we remain proud of those who served, we do not glorify what happened here. We know too much to do that. Instead, we acknowledge the courage and tenacity of the Anzacs, and we respect the valour of the Ottoman Turks who resisted them.

Our most decorated Gallipoli veteran, Lieutenant Colonel Cyril Bassett VC said, “real courage isn’t just an act of daring; it’s carrying on.”

And carry on they did. On both sides.

Everyone fought in the same horrific conditions and, through that, unbreakable bonds were formed.

Men of means fought in lockstep with those who came from little.

For the Anzacs, a bond was built between New Zealanders and Australians which we sustain to this day.

The passage of 110 years has lifted the fog of war and given us a clearer view of the futility of the Gallipoli campaign and New Zealand’s role in it. But that greater understanding does not dim our respect for those who fought.

On Anzac Day in particular, we remember the stories of selfless acts of courage that ordinary men committed to save their mates, never knowing that, in doing so, they were writing themselves into the history of our nation.

But it would be a disservice to those whose valour we remember if we forget the real lesson of this campaign: That we should do all we can to prevent anything like it happening again.

Many young Turks lost their lives here defending their country. They fought fearlessly in defence of their position, at great cost. Today, we honour them too.

On behalf of all New Zealanders, I thank Türkiye for protecting the cemeteries and memorials on this site, and caring for our fallen sons as you do for your own.

Visiting this place has become a rite of passage for New Zealanders young and old who seek a connection with those who gave so much for us, so long ago.

Some come looking for their family’s surnames on the headstones.

But some headstones bear the names of men who were struck down too young to bear families of their own.

Whatever motivation visitors have for coming, nobody leaves here unmoved.

Only last year, fire struck the peninsula, reminding us of the fragility of this special environment.

We thank Turkish firefighters for their success in containing the fire and commend the Commonwealth War Graves Commission for restoring the memorials. And as always, we express our gratitude to the Turkish authorities for ensuring this sacred ground is protected into the future.

Soon, the light will reveal the landscape as it did at this hour, on this day, 110 years ago.

It will show us the names etched onto headstones marking where men fell.

It will show us the names of our great grandfathers.

And it will show us the names of men who never became fathers.

We think of them all.

We will remember them.

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