My Great Grandfather (seated in the chair outside his home) fought at Gallipoli. He was actually shot in the head, but luckily somehow, managed to have his hand up so the bullet went through his hand first. That probably saved his life. Family members have eluded to him coming home a different man and older generations blamed it on being shot in the head. But I imagine there was incredibly traumatic psychological damage too. What did our surviving men see, day in, day out for months on end?
My Grandfather, pictured on his motorbike, was training to be a pilot but tragically died when out one day with his instructor, their plane never recovered from a spin. They crashed in to the ocean, off the coast of Brighton, Dunedin. Despite search efforts the plane and their bodies were never found. His wife was just 6 months pregnant with my Dad.
We will always remember.