As the country commemorates the anniversary of D-Day, Royal Marine veteran John Eskdale is carrying memories that many would struggle to imagine.
At 101 years old, John remains a familiar figure within the Royal Marines community, sharing his experiences with younger generations and ensuring the sacrifices of wartime servicemen are never forgotten.
His military journey began in 1942. Having endured the Blitz as a teenager, John was determined to join the fight.
"I'd been on the receiving end of blitzes and God knows what," he recalled. "I thought it was time to fight back."
After being turned away by both the Army and the RAF because he was underage, John signed up to the Royal Marines and soon found himself serving aboard HMS Charybdis.
The cruiser operated in the Mediterranean, escorting convoys and supporting Allied operations, including the invasion of Sicily in 1943. But later that year, tragedy struck.
In October 1943, HMS Charybdis was attacked and torpedoed by German E-boats near the Channel Islands. The ship sank rapidly, claiming the lives of more than 400 men.
John had just completed a 24-hour watch when action stations were called.
"I was on the gun ready, just waiting for orders," he said.
"Within seven minutes of being hit, we were under."
The explosion killed the rest of his gun crew. John survived only because he had been positioned outside the turret.
What followed was a desperate struggle for survival in darkness and freezing water. Clinging to a Carley float for five hours, he witnessed scenes that still haunt him today.
"We were all covered head to foot in thick diesel oil," he said. "The only way you recognised anybody was by voice."
He remembers young sailors crying out for their mothers, exhausted men slipping away beneath the water and the anguish of watching a rescue vessel appear to pass them by.
"The last hour was terrible," he said. "You see a rescue ship coming towards you and it gets almost to you and then turns around and goes away again."
Eventually, he was rescued. Looking in a mirror later that morning, he could only laugh.
"All you could see was my eyes," he recalled.
For decades afterwards, John returned annually to Guernsey to honour those lost aboard HMS Charybdis. The memorials helped survivors and families remain connected through shared remembrance.
Now one of the last remaining links to those events, John admits that outliving so many friends is difficult.
"How does it make you feel to be the last one?" he was asked.
"Rotten," he replied.
Yet his pride in the Corps remains as strong as ever.
"The Royal Marines is a family," he said. "A big family, a happy family."
If you'd like to support WWII veterans like John, and the wider military community as a whole, you can do so by playing the Veterans' Lottery.
