As the first wail of the bugle sounds, shattering the stillness that blankets the thousands of people standing proudly to attention on a crisp spring morning, my tears begin to fall freely. I’m standing on the shores of a sandy cove under a serene sky, a calm sea stretching out before me. My thoughts are bursting with images of bold and brave young men, facing imminent death as they scaled the imposing cliff faces that adorned the shore. And as the haunting strains of The Last Post filter through the crowd here in Gallipoli on this 25th of April, I feel both anguish and awe. It’s a day which not only forever changed our fledgling nation, but as well forever changed me.