On the Anzac trail: Being extracts from the diary of a New Zealand sapper — Reading Notes

The Voice of the Ranks

The author writes as 'a man in the ranks,' and his language is consistently that of a soldier, not an officer. He uses slang ('roll up,' 'slather-up'), calls the Turks 'the enemy' without demonization, and refers to his comrades as 'the chaps.' The dedication page includes a Maori war cry—Komate! Komate!—which he translates simply as 'Which is also true.' This blend of irreverence and respect for the men beside him is a thread throughout the excerpts.

He does not claim heroism. Before the landing, he notes that the staff expected 80 percent casualties, and the soldiers respond by making bets and tossing coins to guess who will die. The tone is matter-of-fact: 'No one the least downhearted; all determined to at least give the enemy the time of his life.' The diary records fear without melodrama, and the author’s own role as a sapper—a military engineer—is mentioned only in the subtitle.

The Landing at Gaba Tepe

The entry for April 28 is the first chance to write after three days. The author calls it 'hell—just that' and 'cold-blooded butchery.' The description of the approach is vivid but controlled: the boats creep in darkness, the cliffs loom, the warships are 'like couchant lions scenting blood.' He notes the stillness, the lack of lights, the uncertainty—'Could it be that we had taken the Turks by surprise? Or were they simply lying low?'

Once ashore, the diary becomes fragmentary. The landing itself is not described in detail; instead, the aftermath is a blur of survival. The author admits he cannot fully convey what happened: 'How the position has been held beats me.' This restraint is typical of the diary form—events are recorded as they are processed, not as a polished narrative.

Trench Life and Dark Humor

Later excerpts show the daily grind of the trenches. The author’s humor persists: he refers to the fighting as 'our amusement' and notes that the men were issued tobacco and cigarettes before going ashore. The contrast between the official briefing—three days on a pint and a half of water—and the soldiers’ black jokes ('tossing up to see if certain of their mates will finish up in heaven or hell') is a recurring pattern.

The diary also records small details that ground the experience: the weather is 'A1,' the sea calm; the men hand in their blankets, knowing they will not return for them. The author’s focus is on what is immediate and physical—the weight of a water bottle, the taste of biscuits—rather than on strategy or politics. This narrow lens gives the account its authenticity.

The Shape of the Diary

The table of contents lists ten chapters, from 'Joining up' to 'The Order of the Push,' suggesting a chronological arc from enlistment to the end of the author’s service. The excerpts provided cover only the opening and the landing; the middle chapters—'Life in Egypt,' 'Day by Day,' 'At Grips'—are not included. Based on the available text, the diary appears to move from preparation to combat to the prolonged stalemate of the trenches.

The author’s perspective is that of a New Zealander who has lived abroad, which may color his observations of both the British and the Turkish forces. The diary’s title, On the Anzac Trail, and the pseudonym 'Anzac' emphasize the collective identity of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, but the narrative is distinctly individual.

Readers should approach this diary as a fragmentary record, not a comprehensive history. The author’s voice is consistent—blunt, occasionally profane, and often wry—but the gaps in the excerpts mean that the full arc of his experience is only hinted at. Pay attention to the small details: the tobacco ration, the bets among the men, the way the landscape is described. These are the elements that distinguish this account from official reports or later memoirs.

I keep thinking about that sapper’s diary—how the grind just goes on, and humour becomes the only soft place to land. It made me remember a quieter companion, The Ways of War — A Reader’s Guide, which sits beside those raw entries like a long exhale. Some books don’t leave you; they just wait until you’re ready to understand them.