Skip to main content

Enough For One Life

May 2024
1min read

I lived through the Second World War in the middle of Europe. I saw the fiery retreat of the last German troops and the cautious advance of the first Russian soldiers on a dark, frozen morning. Twenty years later I went to Winston Churchill’s funeral. I saw the London house where he died; I walked past his bier in Westminster Hall; I knew that I was a witness to the last great moment of the British Empire. Another twenty-four years later I walked in the streets of the small town where Adolf Hitler was born one hundred years ago. I think I’ve had enough brushes with history; I do not wish for more. But I am eternally thankful to God for having allowed my puny self to work with an inadequate little brush of my own manufacture: trying to present what certain people in certain places and at certain times did and said and thought and feared and hoped for.

We hope you enjoy our work.

Please support this magazine of trusted historical writing, now in its 75th year, and the volunteers that sustain it with a donation to American Heritage.

Donate