In search of the Anzac spirit

My patchwork travels have taken me to several places writ large by war. Gallipoli, a place of surprising beauty which, like much of the Turkish coastline, would probably have been a tourist resort were it not for the horrors of a century ago that deem it sacred turf. Kokoda, eleven days of hell. Let’s just…

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Sport and the war zone

In our enthusiasm, we often liken sport to war. Teams go into battle, they conquer the enemy or are put to the sword, they are gladiators and heroes and to the victors go the spoils. From the stands or their couches, fans scream “Kill him” and “Take him down”. They, we — OK, I —…

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