For the last few days we have been embedded with Ukrainian troops, and last night around the dinner table we talked for a long time over cognac and whiskey, each of us sharing our combat experiences, which spanned more than two decades and multiple continents.
I was amazed to hear the stories told by the young Ukrainian soldiers, who, as it turned out, are heroes of Irpin, Bucha, and elsewhere, having received their baptism of fire as they resisted the Russian invasion over the past four months.
One soldier was on the first of six daring missions into Mariupol in MI-8 helicopters. They had to fly below 50 feet at 200 miles per hour to avoid Russian Radar, but they successfully flew across enemy-held territory to deliver aid and retrieve wounded from the Azovstal Metal Works.
Several of our new friends had already been wounded in battle. All were ready to go back into the fight tomorrow.
This is why I chose to be a war correspondent. I don't like many facets of Journalism - the politics, the celebrity worship, and least of all the scrum of journos scrambling for an exclusive. But this job allows me to spend time with heroes. With men who are putting their lives on the line for others. They are my people.
I am an old warrior now. I normally don't like to stay up until 2 am. But last night was worth it. I might be no longer young enough to go off and fight. But for the time being, I am still fit enough to keep up with those young lions, and it is a privilege to tell their stories.