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Private Robert Edward Johns was one among many young servicemen to die in the Second World War. His story begins with a lie, running away from his Portsmouth home and enlisting as a 14-year-old. Bobby, as he was known to his mates, was physically strong and volunteered to serve with the Parachute Regiment. He was just 15 when he earned his paratrooper wings. At the age of 16 he was part of the D-Day invasion force, dropped into action near Ranville on the Normandy coast. Bobby’s war came to an end on the 23rd July 1944 – killed in action by a sniper, 2 days before his 17th birthday. The Commonwealth War Graves Commission commemorates over 38,000 servicemen who died in the Second World War as teenagers. Amid the sea of shocking statistics from the Second World War, this I find particularly poignant. Young men, boys, giving their life in service of their country. It is all too easy to make a glib comparison between that generation and this. Indeed, earlier this year saw headlines declaring that Gen Z aren’t proud to be British and wouldn’t go to war for their country. Despite what some headlines suggest, the young men and women I meet are every bit as proud to serve as the generations who have gone before them. On a recent visit to a military cemetery with some of our newest soldiers, they told me about the motives for their own service. ‘Giving something back; becoming a better person; making the world a better place.’ There was a genuine sense of altruism in their comments. Then one young woman pointed at a headstone and read the inscription: “Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” I asked her why this had made such an impact. “Because these are my friends” she said pointing to her colleagues “and I would do this for them.” I hope and pray she never has to, but in that moment the past and the present felt very close. In a letter written by Bobby’s mother on 22nd September 1944 she spoke from the heart ‘Let’s hope these brave fellows will never be forgotten after the war.’ When I stand at the cenotaph this year, I’ll remember Bobby, just as his mother hoped. But I’ll also remember the words of that young soldier and her colleagues. Their courage and service remind us that the spirit of sacrifice is not confined to the past. May we honour them not only in our silence, but in the way we live, serve and care for each other.