World War Two has become an epic of nostalgia entirely disconnected from the cause of anti-fascism, the sacrifices made by the Red Army on the Eastern Front once again hidden from history. Stalingrad, forgotten, scarcely meriting a mention in the mainstream media despite its fixation with all things WW2.
Having studied English from primary school through to university, I noticed one assignment recur time and again. From GCSE to A Level, kindergarten to BA, I was repeatedly asked to write about the person I admire most. The only person I possibly could choose given the nature of the assignment. A survivor in every sense of the word. My grandfather. Zigi.