Hello and welcome to this brand new series of legacy.

We're in London.

1945, the war has been won, fascism has been beaten,

and there's one man standing tall at the heart of all of this triumph.

Sir Winston, Leonard, Spencer Churchill.

8th of May, 1945, Buckingham Palace, London.

Stepping onto the palace balcony, Churchill marvels at the floods of people pouring into the

moor.

A sea of Union Jacks ripple above their delirious faces.

Since the announcement of Germany's surrender earlier in the afternoon, London has felt

electrified.

The joy and relief of every man, woman and child in the

capital is palpable. As he approaches the microphone, a roar rises up to where he stands on the

balcony. To one side of him, he takes in the serene countenance of the king. Next to him, the queen and Princess Margaret and Elizabeth

look awe-struck by the scene unfolding before them.

Looking up, Churchill spots a lone fighter plane

making its way back to Hendon.

He feels a sudden pang of grief.

Six years of presiding over missions, sending countless young pilots to their death.

It's been an effort to keep the guilt and the sorrow in check.

Now facing the crowd he's struck by their heroism.

Ordinary people who, year on year, have endured the bombing raids, bereavements and sacrifices.

...