At the southern end of Anzac cove, a concrete bunker lies blasted and crippled, tilted on an angle and lapping in the water, its sides pockmarked by bullets. I climbed into its claustrophobic cell, crouched and peered through the narrow gun slot. In front of me panned the sparkling blue water of the Aegean Sea, a strip of sand, and the steep cliffs and ridges above. It was a beautiful setting, an ideal place for a resort – if it wasn’t a cemetery reserve.
Gallipoli – A Surprising Modern Day Visit