D-Day celebrations remind us all of the huge sacrifice made by brave young service personnel 80 years ago. That nearly 1,500 died on day one as they scrambled ashore is a terrible statistic of war. D-Day also stands for disaster for our Prime Minister. How his advisers let him leave a massive photo opportunity with world leaders to record a political interview for the election is a mystery. His actions have rightly been rebuked by everyone. 

I was just a young child when D-Day arrived but on VE night was taken shoulder high into Trafalgar Square with jubilant parents. 

World War Two impacted on so many families. My own extended family survived but not without extreme trauma. Our house was blown to bits by a flying bomb that destroyed the house across the road. My mother and I were evacuated. My father trained to be a navigator for the Battle of Britain but at the last minute was transferred to officer training in the army.

His fellow navigators were not so lucky with many losing their lives. My uncle got married and 24 hours later was called up only to spend four years in a prison camp in Burma. Another uncle was picked out of the sea when his ship was torpedoed. Yet another was one of just a handful to return from his battalion fighting in Italy. 

When the war ended the country was in a very poor state. Cities were full on bomb sites and the supply of foodstuffs required the publication of ration books for key ingredients. Growing up surrounded by adults who had served in the war did not provide me with lots of detailed information of their experiences. That generation did not want to talk about it and some were bound by the Official Secrets Act. 

My father in law escaped at the last moment from Singapore only to surface some 18 months later in western Australia. Exactly how he got there and the nature of his time listed as missing remained unknown.

Returning home in the 1940s meant people suffered real hardship. So many home comforts we now enjoy just did not exist. Most working families did not own their own home but rented rooms.

My parents were in their late 50s before they were able to buy a house. There were no refrigerators, microwave ovens, central heating or washing machines in those days. Car ownership was limited to the wealthy few and television ownership was only just starting to be possible on a rental basis. 

As the old men make their final visit to the beaches it is only right that this generation learn of their actions. If you get a chance visit the war graves in Normandy to see their story and appreciate the futility of war. 

We must never forget that for their today they gave us our tomorrow. At the going down of the sun and in the morning we will remember them.