When the first rays of dawn break across the rugged cliffs of Gallipoli each April 25, Australia and New Zealand pause. We remember. Not just names etched into marble or dates in dusty tomes—but lives lived, dreams interrupted, and courage beyond comprehension. ANZAC Day is much more than a national observance—it is a soul-deep remembering of those who bore the unbearable in distant trenches over a century ago.

While many know of Simpson and his donkey, or the collective legacy of the ANZAC spirit, few have heard the quieter, lesser-known voices of that campaign—soldiers whose stories speak volumes through their silent sacrifice. Today, we bring a small effort to bring to share their stories.

The Farm Boy from Victoria: Private James Martin

Youngest Australian to die at Gallipoli

Born in Tocumwal, New South Wales, and raised in Victoria, James Martin was just 14 years and 9 months old when he enlisted in the Australian Imperial Force. The legal age was 18—but like many boys of the time, Martin lied to join the cause. When his mother protested, military authorities offered to discharge him. But James insisted on staying. He said simply, “I want to go.”

He embarked on the troopship Berrima and arrived at Gallipoli in September 1915. There, amid the squalor of the trenches, James served bravely. But his young body couldn’t withstand the harsh conditions. He contracted typhoid and was evacuated to a hospital ship off the coast.

On October 25, 1915, just a month after arriving, James passed away and was buried at sea. He was 14.

His story isn’t just a tragic tale of lost youth—it’s a testament to the conviction, however youthful, that drove thousands of young men to the trenches.

The Māori Warrior: Private Friday Hawkins

One of the Māori soldiers at Gallipoli

Private Friday Hawkins was part of the Native Contingent, a battalion of Māori soldiers from New Zealand who volunteered despite initial resistance from the colonial authorities. The New Zealand government had hesitated to send Māori men to fight in a “white man’s war,” but these warriors were determined to serve their country and their ancestors’ honour.

Hawkins, a quiet man with a fierce heart, landed at Gallipoli in July 1915. He and his comrades served with distinction, often taking on dangerous scouting missions and stretcher-bearing duties in no-man’s-land. One such mission saw Hawkins crawl through Turkish lines to retrieve a wounded officer under the cover of night—a feat that earned him respect among his fellow diggers.

His letters home were poetic, speaking of the “sadness of stars over Suvla Bay” and the “whispers of home in the smell of firewood smoke.” After the campaign, he returned home a changed man but continued to serve in subsequent campaigns in France.

His service highlighted not just personal bravery, but the cultural resilience and pride of New Zealand’s indigenous people in a war that often sought to exclude them.

The Nurse Who Stayed: Sister Alice Ross-King

Heroism in the shadows

Though Sister Alice Ross-King was an Australian nurse who volunteered for service, Alice was stationed in Egypt and then near Gallipoli during the campaign.

Amid the chaos, she worked tirelessly in overcrowded and understaffed field hospitals, tending to wounds that were often beyond mending and comforting young men in their final moments. She wrote of the moans that never ceased and the heartbreak of letters she penned for dying soldiers to send to their mothers.

One night, a Turkish shell landed near her hospital tent. Instead of fleeing, she stayed to shield her patients and continued her work through the night.

Alice would go on to serve in France and was awarded the Military Medal for bravery. Her legacy is a reminder that heroism comes in many forms—not all carry rifles; some carry hope.

The Unlikely Leader: Lieutenant Hugo Throssell

From battlefield to peace advocate

Born into a prominent political family in Western Australia, Hugo Throssell was a natural leader. Gallipoli would test that leadership like never before.

Serving with the 10th Light Horse Regiment, Throssell fought during the bloody charge at the Nek—a moment immortalized in Peter Weir’s film Gallipoli. Unlike many officers, Throssell believed in fighting alongside his men, not above them. He displayed extraordinary bravery during the Battle of Hill 60, holding off enemy attacks for hours with a small team of survivors.

For his actions, he was awarded the Victoria Cross—the highest military honour in the Commonwealth.

But war left Hugo changed. He returned a decorated soldier and a committed pacifist. He publicly declared that war was “wrong and futile”—a controversial stance that cost him much of his public support.

His story is powerful not just for his wartime bravery but for his post-war courage to speak truth to power.

The Message Runner: Private William ‘Billy’ Sing

The “Gallipoli Sniper” and his quiet legacy

Born in Queensland to a Chinese father and English mother, Billy Sing defied the racism of his time to become one of the most effective snipers at Gallipoli.

With his Lee-Enfield rifle, Billy was credited with over 150 confirmed kills, earning the nickname “The Assassin” from Turkish troops and admiration from fellow ANZACs. He worked in tandem with a spotter, Corporal Tom Sheehan, who once said of Billy: “He could hit the hole in a soldier’s belt buckle at 300 yards.”

Billy’s service was nothing short of extraordinary—but back home, he faced discrimination that denied him the recognition he deserved. His medals, awarded by both the British and French governments, were not enough to secure him work or stability.

He died in relative poverty in 1943, but his legacy has since been reclaimed as an integral part of the ANZAC narrative—a reminder that the digger spirit transcends race.

What They Left Us

The Gallipoli campaign was a military failure. But out of its mud and blood rose a legend. The ANZACs didn’t win the hills of the Dardanelles, but they won the hearts of generations.

Through soldiers like James Martin, we see youthful zeal and the cost of innocence. Through Friday Hawkins, the resilience of culture. Through Alice Ross-King, the unsung strength of women in war. Through Hugo Throssell, the courage to change. Through Billy Sing, the challenge to prejudices that still linger.

They were more than just soldiers. They were sons, lovers, nurses, poets, farmers, and friends. They laughed, cried, and hoped—just like us.

As we gather in the hush of dawn, wearing sprigs of rosemary and watching the bugler raise his horn to the sky, let’s not just remember the victory that never was. Let’s remember the lives that truly were. Lest we forget.