I sit now, looking at my father's old watch, rusted in at ten after eleven. This watch is the old memory I have left of him and my mother, and it has seen so much of this world. This intricate wonder of human ingenuity might seem meaningless to you, but to me it symbolises all there is to living life: love, freedom, and fighting for what you believe in. I always feel incredibly reverent when seeing this mastery of time, yet I feel guilty at not telling its full story earlier, so I have decided to do it now, from the point of view of my father, while I have time, while I stand helplessly on the drop ramp of the landing raft, off the coast of Normandy, while I wait for death, just like he waited for death in the trenches.
