On D-Day itself, my uncle was still a prisoner of war in Burma, and my father a member of the invasion force. My uncle never spoke of his experiences, though others did. I have seen war veterans break down in his presence when they remember the privations he underwent. My family was bombed out of their house near the docks in Liverpool, and this disruption led, ultimately, to its break-up after the war. My father never recovered from a tropical skin condition contracted in the North African desert.
Still, when I was a child I was always brought up to remember the thousands who lost their lives in Germany, particularly in Hamburg and Dresden. My uncle simply said there is no glory in war.
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