The Last Tommy



Harry Patch



OCCASIONALLY I receive an assignment that makes me nervous and gets my photographic juices flowing. I have photographed The Queen, Luciano Pavarotti, David Bowie and all manner of top sportsmen and didn’t bat an eyelid. But this day was different, I had to photograph “The Last Tommy” Harry Patch, at his nursing home in Wells.

I could have sent one of our staff photographers and they would have taken perfectly adequate pictures. But this was no ordinary person. This was a man I really wanted to photograph, a man

I respected, not just for who he was but for what he represented.

I was apprehensive about the job as soon as I got up that morning. Not because I was worried about taking a good picture, it was more about doing the man justice. I was adamant that my

pictures were respectful; maybe catch him smiling, looking pensive. In fact I wanted to capture all the emotions that he allowed me to see. I had no idea how long the audience with Harry was to last, so I had to work fast. I need not have worried as he chatted away for more than an hour.

He was seated with his back to a window which meant problems with metering to get detail in his face. But changing my position to either side and kneeling down to look up at him, I  eutralised the problem.

I tried using off-camera flash which was OK, but seemed to sanitise the overall feel of the picture. So I resorted to available light. I also had the idea that the images would look more earthy in black and white, so I was thinking in mono as I clicked away.

All in all I was very pleased with my work. I have a comprehensive series of pictures depicting a true hero and I walked away with a sense of pride; I was humbled by a man whose appearance

was that of a 110 year old but when you looked into his eyes you were transported

back to a world where a teenager pulls on a uniform and goes blindly to war.