A group of Britain’s last surviving World War II veterans, some nearing 100 years old, shared raw emotion this week – tears falling, voices breaking with frustration – as they publicly expressed deep hurt over the Labour government’s initial decision to cut funding for their meaningful overseas remembrance trips.

The emotional moment unfolded just before Armistice Day on November 11, 2025, adding weight to a Ministry of Defence commitment that arrived after public outcry, but still brought relief to many. Veterans from the Normandy landings and beyond gathered at a heartfelt press event in London, their medals shining softly, to say: “We served for Britain, and we’re still speaking up.”

At the heart of the story are the Spirit of Normandy Trust and the Taxi Charity for Military Veterans – two dedicated groups that have quietly arranged trips for these “greatest generation” survivors to return to the beaches of France and the fields of Holland for decades. For years, the UK government helped cover flights, hotels, and meals, allowing these elders to lay wreaths, share memories, and receive warm thanks from locals who still honor the liberators.

But in early 2025, budget adjustments under Labour quietly removed support for non-official events, citing financial challenges. Charities were left struggling, with trip costs rising to £150,000 – a burden too heavy for donations alone.

“It feels like a deep disappointment to those who never returned,” said Richard Palusinski, chairman of the Spirit of Normandy Trust, his voice wavering as he spoke to reporters and fellow veterans. Palusinski’s group had planned to escort seven heroes to Normandy for the 81st D-Day anniversary in June, only to see promised help disappear. “To be told the government would support us this year, only to have that support withdrawn… it’s a heartbreak that runs deep.”

Sharing the pain was 100-year-old Alec Penstone, a Royal Navy veteran who helped clear mines during the D-Day landings off Sword Beach. In a widely viewed YouTube interview aired Tuesday, Penstone wiped away tears, holding a cherished photo of his wartime crew. “We cleared those mines so Britain could be free. Served through hardship for decency. And now? The country seems to forget. How can Labour say they care when they leave us without this final journey?”

Penstone’s words spread quickly. Social media lit up with #VeteransRemembered trending nationwide, as families shared old letters from the front lines, asking: “They landed on D-Day for a better tomorrow – not for broken promises.” Conservative MPs joined in, with shadow defence secretary Tom Tugendhat calling it “deeply unfair” and a “letdown of the values these men protected.”

The public response grew strong in April, when the Daily Express highlighted the funding pause just before VE Day events. Charities like the Taxi Charity, which has brought 25 veterans to Holland’s Liberation Day each year since 2012, faced cancellation. “These trips aren’t just travel,” said Geoff Sleath, a charity coordinator and D-Day veteran. “The welcome is overwhelming, emotional – locals line the streets, children wave flags. It’s their last chance for a proper farewell. To take that away? It’s like dimming their legacy.”

The outpouring moved Labour to act. Hours after the story gained attention, Veterans Minister Al Carns – a former Royal Marines officer – clarified: “For the avoidance of doubt: our government will ensure the support is there for Second World War veterans to attend VE Day and D-Day commemorations overseas this year.” By week’s end, a firm MoD pledge followed: full funding for all future trips, no conditions.

The reversal was welcomed as a win, though the initial hurt lingered. On Thursday, at a moving gathering on Sword Beach – made possible by timely donations – five veterans stood together: Ken Hay, Richard Aldred, Henry Rice, Jim Grant, and John Dennett. Hay, 99, raised a hand in quiet resolve. “We’ve secured this moment, friends. But the need for respect? That continues.”

Palusinski thanked the Express and its readers: “This is a fair and welcome decision, warmly received by the veteran community.” Yet the episode revealed larger concerns. With fewer than 200 British WWII vets still with us, 2025’s anniversaries – the 80th of VE Day, 81st of D-Day – may be their last. Charities stress that without lasting guarantees, future remembrance could fade.

Labour sources explain the initial cut as a “difficult but necessary” budget choice, pointing to broader veteran support like improved mental health services under Operation Courage. But many remain unconvinced. Johnny Mercer, former veterans minister, called the reversal “the right outcome,” while noting trust had been shaken in a government promising to “rebuild Britain.”

The story reaches beyond funding. It connects to wider concerns: Labour’s changes to the Northern Ireland Legacy Act, which veterans say leaves former soldiers open to late legal challenges – another “deep disappointment,” per a petition with 197,000 signatures. And reports of removing tax benefits for companies hiring veterans, just before VE Day, drew fresh concern as a “setback” for those who served.

For the veterans, it’s personal. At Friday’s press event, 98-year-old Jim Grant grew emotional recalling a Dutch child’s embrace in 1945: “That little girl said, ‘Thank you, Tommy.’ Now, our own leaders seem to forget why we were Tommies.” His words carried weight, a reminder of sacrifices counted in lives: Over 383,000 British service members lost in WWII, per official records.

As poppies are worn this weekend, the resolution feels meaningful yet tender. Carns, attending a MoD event, pledged: “We honor their service every day.” But Penstone, back in Devon, offered a gentle reminder: “Actions matter most. We have the funding now – but the feeling of being overlooked? That stays with us.”

In a year of milestones, these elders’ voices aren’t just about money. It’s a call: Remember us while we’re here. Their stand – from Normandy’s shores to London’s halls – shows the “greatest generation” still speaks with purpose.

Britain listened this time. Will it always? As one veteran said: “We didn’t serve for empty words.” With Armistice silence observed, their message rings clear: Freedom’s cost isn’t paid in budgets alone – it’s in gratitude, enduring.