NEXT month the Western world will pay homage to and publicly recognise the heroic achievements of a truly remarkable group of people – D-Day veterans.

It saddened me to read this week that there are probably only a handful of UK veterans still alive.

Some of my fondest memories of my career as a BBC Correspondent was spending time with Normandy vets, hearing their stories, marvelling at their self-effacement.

And boy could they drink! The 60th anniversary of D-Day was particularly memorable (though bits of it were through a serious hangover cloud!).

We were in Arrowmanche-les-Bains with veterans from the Bristol Normandy Veterans Association.  On D-Day this was Gold Beach, the scene of brutal fighting and many deaths.

The veterans I was with were a jolly bunch who treated this anniversary pilgrimage with a mixture of pride, immense sadness for their fallen colleagues… and as an opportunity to sample French beer, without anyone shooting at them!

The thing about drinking in Normandy with D-Day veterans (dripping with war medals) is you don’t need to buy a drink – the occupants of that corner of France are more than willing to show their gratitude with endless rounds of beer.

One night we stayed out so late the doors of our hotel were locked when we returned. 

The veterans – in their late 70s and early 80s – thought it was hilarious.

Yet the next day they were due to be on parade at a ceremony in front of Presidents and Monarchs, including our Queen.

Somehow we had to get to bed, and that task fell to me.

So I scaled a fence into the hotel ‘back yard’, climbed through a downstairs bedroom window (yes there was someone in bed!), tiptoed out of the bedroom (almost) unnoticed and unlocked the front door. Cue much cheering from the veterans!

Memories I will never forget. Great men. Their numbers may now be few – but I hope that will not lessen the 80th anniversary commemorations.