First off was ten days in Gallipoli, Turkey, where the ANZAC troops as well as British and French soldiers fought and died as they tried to force the Dardanelles. Churchill has a lot to answer for.

There are over 30 memorials and cemeteries on the Gallipoli peninsular, spread along the battlefield front lines. The first couple of days were what I used to call ’Kodachrome’ days, bright blue skies and crisp light on the memorials.


Gallipoli, Turkey: Lone pine cemetery on the ridge above Anzac Cove.

Then it rained. Rain, rain, rain. Horizontal, upright and just plane downpour. Then it snowed. A blizzard, two feet deep, black ice, the works. My car slid into a Turkish frontline trench. So, I had thirty plus locations which in the end were shot three times each, almost.

Plus, I was attacked by a snake, it’s fangs went through my trousers and then I was chased by a pack of wild dogs. Honest, there were at least 18 of them, foaming, teeth gnashing, salivating, baying for my blood as I ran at a rapid rate of knots down the road before jumping into my hire car and putting the central locking on. Do dogs have thumbs?

Gallipoli was an awakening of what was to come. Exotic locations but essentially the same. Memorials and cemeteries. How to tell them apart, how to make each location individual ?

I approached each cemetery the same. I would arrive and walk in through the gate; I would look and photograph the most immediate aspect of the location that appeared in that first instance. It may be the way the shadows fell or a detail or an inscription. It was so important that it was the location that spoke and not my photography that prevailed.

Caterpillar Valley Cemetery, The Somme

Then to Europe. Normandy via the Somme to Loos and Mons. To Ypres in Belgium and on to Arnhem and down through northern Germany. To the high peaks of the Asiago Plateau in northern Italy where the snows had just melted and down the Adriatic coast of Italy following in reverse order the battles of the Indian and Canadian forces and then across the Apennines to Cassino. Then to follow the slow trudge up the left side of the Italian leg via Orvieto and Florence. The penultimate stop was Marseilles, where the cemetery was locked up because of vandalism. I had to climb the gates as the local CRS flics patrolled nearby.