There were some very touching moments today, especially for me, seeing some of the last surviving Normandy veterans resplendent in their berets and blazers, and quietly displaying their rows of medals from the Second World War. You'll see them in my pictures, they need no introduction, their faces and stature tell it all. Be proud of them for you will not see their like again.
For me the whole weekend was summed up by the little boy who looked up at the Normandy veteran and said, "What have you come as?"
"Oh, I'm an old soldier," said the gentleman.
The little boy held out his hand to touch the man's medals. The man bent forward to let him and touched the boy's head with a wrinkled hand that had seen the worst of horror to bring this boy's father the best of hope. That is what these weekends are all about.
An Italian gentleman telling what a fool Mussolini was.
Do I see Glenn Miller here?
I promise you dear we'll stuff Herr Hitler!
I seem to have lost my regiment cobber.
Yes, I was really there. A Normandy Veteran.
Careless talk costs lives, and foxes!
I say, there's a good turnout.
A real hero.
We'll meet again...year after year I hope.
I say, isn't he a German?
This is a shady spot.
They said the bus was at ten past.
La Vie en Rose.
Those ruddy Germans won't like this!
Oh no, the women!
Where's that ruddy tank?
Don't tell him Pike!
The Hurricane fly past never happened, so we settled for this!