Mike Martin

As we approach remembrance, we often think of one person—perhaps a friend who has died in conflict, or if we have served, perhaps comrades, or perhaps a great-grandparent we never met but whose memory looms large in our family lore. We often remember one person, and this year as we remember, I will be thinking of Luke Tooke, a royal artilleryman from the 16th Regiment Royal Artillery. Luke was the last Tunbridge Wellian to die in conflict. In 2018 in Kabul, Afghanistan, a suicide bomber, in a truck packed full of explosives, rammed the gates of a compound, following which, in a secondary attack, a bunch of insurgents stormed the compound, and Luke died in the resulting firefight. I never knew Luke but I had the honour of marching alongside his dad, Anthony, in the remembrance parade in Tunbridge Wells. After we had marched, Anthony and I spoke about Luke and about Jacqueline, who was Luke’s mum. I was struck by the quiet dignity and pride that they showed in their son in the face of what must be heart-searing pain. We have heard it said today that if, every day, they can find two minutes to escape that heart-searing pain, it must be a blessed release. I am often asked whether deaths in conflict—British deaths in conflict, specifically—are worth it, and as a veteran of Afghanistan, I often think about that. There are two answers. One is the personal: each death is a tragedy. Luke died defending his comrades and his mates and it is a tragedy, but it has meaning because he died in service to his comrades and his friends. For the second answer, we have to look to ourselves—to Members of this House—for it is us who send them there, and we do that for our country. The greatest honour that we can pay to our veterans is to consider incredibly carefully the questions that come before us, because we will have to make decisions about peace and war in this Parliament. We will remember Luke.