A loud explosion followed the ricochets off the ships, and the beach was now invisible, due to the black smoke. Loud screams enhanced the terror, and Frankie almost fell over one of the bodies. Faster and faster, he waded, until he began to run towards the beach, the smoke now clearing.

He looked up to the tall spruce trees and noticed an eerie silence envelope the camp. Not a bird sang when the gates to Dachau opened. It seemed an evil-smelling place, and the dreary surroundings befitted this wicked establishment.

The towering, uniformed, blonde man demanded, rather than ordered yet another whisky. This was one of life’s luxuries exempt from rationing. To the swinging music of ‘Glenn Miller’, Lieutenant Patrick Starkey of the King’s Royal Rifle Corps drank himself into oblivion; the bloody war forgotten for now.

God bless you, Ronald Burns and every man and woman who contributed to the brutal and bloody conflict; many who lost their lives defending their country. For those who did give their lives, rest in peace.