Bryan

In March 1942, a 22-year-old sat on the deck of a motor launch in the warm spring sunshine. He was preparing to sail to occupied France for the raid on St Nazaire. Or what has become known as ‘the Greatest Raid of All’. He was Lance Sergeant Bill Gibson of No. 2 Commando. He knew the mission to destroy this Nazi dry dock was likely a one-way trip. He wrote a letter to his father, only to be delivered in the event he never came back. "My dearest Dad, by the time you get this I shall be one of the many who have sacrificed their unimportant lives for what little ideals we may have - my own ideals I can thank you for." He calmly explained the mission was "virtually suicide”, but the magnitude of the results would make it worthwhile:  putting the German raiders out of action for at least six months, protecting the ships bringing vital food across the Atlantic , and saving the lives of his fellow servicemen. "The reason I am writing this at all, Dad, is just the thought that it might be a little better for you to get this rather than the dreaded telegram." He reflects on the friendships he made in life, telling his father: "you've been the best pal I've ever had." One can only be in awe of the character of a 22-year-old that went on: "It seems ever so peculiar to be writing this letter. We've just finished our tea and the sunshine is streaming through the portholes. We've been on deck sunbathing all day. With spring in the air and everything looking so beautiful we can only now appreciate how lovely everything is - almost like condemned criminals." He asks his dad to write to his Irish girlfriend, Anne, and let her know what has happened.  He asks him not to worry or be too unhappy, and reminds him of the advice his father always gave him: to keep his chin up. He lays out the reason for laying down his life: "the generations to come might in some way remember us." He closes: "In a time like this I turn to you, Dad, and God - I hope there will be peace for everyone soon. Give my love to everyone - I'll remember you. Your loving son, Bill." Neither Bill nor his friend Peter Harkness survived the night of 28 March. Their launch, ML 268, was devastated by enemy fire before they could even get ashore. However their mission, astonishingly, was a success. Bill was 22 years old, with a girl he loved, a family he adored, and his whole life ahead of him. He has no known grave; his name is on the Brookwood Memorial. On Remembrance Sunday, the sheer scale of the devastation of the war can be overwhelming. But Bill Gibson's letter illuminates the heart-wrenching reality of sacrifice: young men who loved life. Painfully aware of the beauty of the world they were giving up. Who went anyway for the sake of people they would never meet. We are the generations to come that you wrote about, Bill.  We have benefited from what you did. We remember you. And the many others who made the ultimate sacrifice for us. Lest we forget. We will remember them.