The prime minister says the name of Gallipoli is etched into New Zealand's national identity.
Christopher Luxon gave a speech at the Dawn Service on the Gallipoli Peninsula in Turkey at 2.30pm (NZT).
He said the young men who came from half a world away 110 years ago were greeted not by adventure but by horror.
"Instead of the peace we feel now, they faced wave after wave of firing.
"Each bullet seeming to come closer than the last."
He said New Zealand's contribution was disproportionate to the size of the nation, and what happened there scarred generations of New Zealanders.
And while we can be proud of those who served, we do not glorify what happened.
"Instead, we acknowledge the courage and tenacity of the Anzacs, and we respect the valour of the Ottoman Turks who resisted them."
Luxon thanked the nation of Turkey for protecting the cemeteries and memorials on Gallipoli on behalf of all New Zealanders.
He said the lesson of the Gallipoli campaign is that we should do all we can to prevent anything like it from happening again.
You can read the Prime Minister's speech in full here:
One hundred and 10 years ago, on the dawn of this day that we commemorate every year in New Zealand, Anzac troops came ashore here, shoulder-to-shoulder with their brothers from half a world away.
Some anticipated an adventure far from home.
But as the sun rose and the shadows drained from the gullies, it was not adventure that greeted them, but horror.
Instead of the peace we feel now, they faced wave after wave of firing.
Each bullet seeming to come closer than the last, as one soldier put it.
Days became weeks, and weeks became months - but only for those who survived that long.
The metronome of gunfire and shelling kept the dreadful rhythm of life in the trenches.
Gallipoli is a name etched into New Zealand's national identity.
It represents not only this shore and these hills, but the valour that was shown here on both sides, the terrible sacrifice, and the utter tragedy of war.
Some 16,000 Kiwis served here. At the time, we were a nation of just one million people.
Our contribution as a small nation at the bottom of the world, was disproportionate.
What happened here scarred generations of New Zealanders.
While we remain proud of those who served, we do not glorify what happened here. We know too much to do that. Instead, we acknowledge the courage and tenacity of the Anzacs, and we respect the valour of the Ottoman Turks who resisted them.
Our most decorated Gallipoli veteran, Lieutenant Colonel Cyril Bassett VC said, "real courage isn't just an act of daring; it's carrying on."
And carry on they did. On both sides.
Everyone fought in the same horrific conditions and, through that, unbreakable bonds were formed.
Men of means fought in lockstep with those who came from little.
For the Anzacs, a bond was built between New Zealanders and Australians which we sustain to this day.
The passage of 110 years has lifted the fog of war and given us a clearer view of the futility of the Gallipoli campaign and New Zealand's role in it. But that greater understanding does not dim our respect for those who fought.
On Anzac Day in particular, we remember the stories of selfless acts of courage that ordinary men committed to save their mates, never knowing that, in doing so, they were writing themselves into the history of our nation.
But it would be a disservice to those whose valour we remember if we forget the real lesson of this campaign: That we should do all we can to prevent anything like it happening again.
Many young Turks lost their lives here defending their country. They fought fearlessly in defence of their position, at great cost. Today, we honour them too.
On behalf of all New Zealanders, I thank Türkiye for protecting the cemeteries and memorials on this site, and caring for our fallen sons as you do for your own.
Visiting this place has become a rite of passage for New Zealanders young and old who seek a connection with those who gave so much for us, so long ago.
Some come looking for their family's surnames on the headstones.
But some headstones bear the names of men who were struck down too young to bear families of their own.
Whatever motivation visitors have for coming, nobody leaves here unmoved.
Only last year, fire struck the peninsula, reminding us of the fragility of this special environment.
We thank Turkish firefighters for their success in containing the fire and commend the Commonwealth War Graves Commission for restoring the memorials.
And as always, we express our gratitude to the Turkish authorities for ensuring this sacred ground is protected into the future.
Soon, the light will reveal the landscape as it did at this hour, on this day, 110 years ago.
It will show us the names etched onto headstones marking where men fell.
It will show us the names of our great-grandfathers.
And it will show us the names of men who never became fathers.
We think of them all.
We will remember them.
PM Luxon's speech at Chunuk Bair, Anzac Day 2025
There are few battlegrounds as ingrained in New Zealand's history and identity as this place. The very name "Chunuk Bair", like the name, "Gallipoli" resonates with New Zealanders at home, so very, very far away.
The thousands of our men who spilled blood on this soil mean a part of our country is forever part of this land, too.
At the time, this battle was the culmination of months of fighting for those men.
Many would not have ventured much beyond their hometown at the 'uttermost ends of the earth' before arriving here at the start of the Gallipoli campaign.
In the dawn light, they would have seen the ridges and gullies rise and drop along the coastline.
They would have seen this place - the highest point in view - and known it would be crucial to the campaign.
Some would have thought it looked a bit like home.
But for them and for all who joined this battle, it was closer to hell.
Some 16,000 New Zealanders came ashore over those months, 110 years ago.
They fought in unspeakable conditions from trenches that still scar this peninsula.
When Lieutenant Colonel William Malone led the Wellington Battalion to seize this summit before dawn on the 8th of August 1915, days of horror followed.
Under a scorching sun, they clashed with waves of charging Ottoman Turks. William Malone was killed that afternoon.
The Wellington Battalion was joined by men from the Auckland Mounted Rifles, before being replaced by the Otago Battalion and the Wellington Mounted Rifles.
For two days, they clung to this summit before being overwhelmed early on the 10th of August.
The losses on both sides were immense.
An Australian war correspondent wrote, "of the 760 of the Wellington Infantry Battalion who had captured the height that morning, there came out only 70 unwounded or slightly wounded men."
"Not one had dreamed of leaving his post."
"They could only talk in whispers. Their eyes were sunken. Their knees trembled."
The other battalions faced similar losses. Only 22 of the 288 Auckland Mounted Rifles remained.
They say that truth is the first casualty of war and the true horror of this battle was not reflected by the newspapers back home at the time.
Stories were headlined "our boys win new glory," and "splendid progress made" in the days following Chunuk Bair.
A letter Colonel Malone wrote to a friend was published with the announcement of his death.
"I love these men of mine," he said.
"Heroes all - as brave as brave can be."
"Hardy, enduring, patient, cheerful, clever soldiers."
"New Zealand has reason to be proud of her sons."
And Turkiye has reason to be proud of its sons too.
They defended this hilltop and their country and gave their lives to do so.
Too many sons of New Zealand, of Turkiye and of other countries breathed their last breath on this ground and in the battles that raged below it.
The circumstances in which our two nations' bonds were forged are nightmarish, but we owe it to the fallen to learn from their sacrifice.
Politicians in New Zealand walk past a painting of Chunuk Bair as we enter our debating chamber.
Inside, a plaque bearing Gallipoli's name hangs above us.
And a few hundred steps away from our Parliament sits a stone from this very memorial.
Reminders like these speak not just of the horrors of war that took place here, but of the need for enduring peace everywhere.
Many New Zealanders come to this place to honour our fallen.
We show by our presence that we have made good on our promise: One hundred and 10 years on, we do remember them.
And the people of Turkiye remember their own sons and the great courage with which they defended their country.
Today - and on all days - we acknowledge their sacrifice.
Heroes all - as brave as brave can be.
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