"Daddy, what did you do in the Great War?"
Where to begin. Pause.
"Um, sweetie I actually..."
"Your father was one of the millions of brave soldiers who fought for their life and country..."
As my wife locked eyes with me, I knew I was safe from telling my children my tale, for now.
What my wife said was true, I was one of those young Tommies, deliriously happy, giddy even to be one of the millions of men going off to fight those Jerries. I was, however, unaware of what horrors it entailed.
In May 1940, Hitler turned his attention to France, that was his next target. Even though the French had strong defences along the German border, Hitler just went around them invading Holland, Belgium and France. Then he headed for the Channel. All these invasions took less than two months! Speed was one of the German tactics called Blitzkrieg. Us British and some French were caught by such surprise and we were pushed back to Dunkirk. We were trapped between the Germans and the sea. The only escape was by sea.
I was stuck on Dunkirk beach from the 26th May to 2nd June. My father and John- my brother, died on that beach. Blown to small bits in front of my eyes by the same Luftwaffe.
I came home on the day my wife gave birth to our twins. Eva and George. That moment is meant to be one of the most special moments in your life, but I felt nothing.
As soon as I laid eyes on them a loud boom went off somewhere. I shouted and hid under the bed, the babies began to cry and my wife reassured me that there was no noise.
"Of course there was," I said to her. "I heard it, the Luftwaffe is after me."
The fear still sits on me like a pillow over my mouth and nose. Enough air gets by it, allowing my body to keep functioning but it's crippling all the same.
I can see that the way I am slowly killing my wife. In the nights I wake up, sweating, to the sounds of bombs, dying men's shouts and planes zooming over head. My wife hugs me close, tells me everything is alright and that no matter what, she will protect me. Then I fall asleep.
I was seventeen when I signed up to fight and eighteen when I came home. But a pang of guilt haunts me still as I wish that I could have saved my brother and father. If only I could go back to Dunkirk.