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For today’s blog, I want to introduce you properly to the two men at the centre of The Lost Hero – William Clarke and his son Michael.

They’re fictional, but they carry pieces of a lot of real people: veterans I’ve known, families I’ve met, and bits of my own experiences along the way. If you’ve been thinking about picking up the book (or you’ve started it and want a bit more background), this one’s for you.

William Clarke – The Soldier Father

William is the original “lost hero” of the story.

He’s a Paratrooper, part of that generation of soldiers who came home, got on with life, and rarely talked in detail about what they’d seen or done. Not because they didn’t feel it – but because that’s just what you did. You cracked on.

A few things define William:

Duty first, self second – He’s the sort of man who puts his mates, his family and the job in front of his own comfort or safety. Quiet, steady strength – He’s not a Hollywood action hero. No speeches, no drama. He’s a bloke who does what needs doing and carries the weight afterwards in silence. Haunted, but not broken – His memories of war never leave him. They sit in the background of his life: in the way he looks at the world, the way he parents, the way he tries (and sometimes fails) to open up to those he loves.

William’s story in The Lost Hero comes to us through his own words – his memoirs and recollections – and through how others remember him. We see him as:

A young soldier in the chaos of conflict A husband and father trying to balance the Army with family life A man carrying guilt, grief and pride all mixed together

He represents a whole generation of veterans whose stories were never fully told.

Michael Clarke – The Son Left With the Echoes

If William is the echo of the past, Michael is the voice of the present.

Michael is William’s son – a man trying to understand his father, long after the parade ground has fallen silent and the medals have been put in a box.

Where William is closed-off and old-school, Michael is:

Curious and searching – He wants answers. About his dad, his family history, and what war really did to the man he grew up with. Caught between pride and pain – He’s proud of his father’s service, but he’s also honest about the emotional distance it created at home. Love mixed with frustration, respect mixed with unanswered questions. Dealing with modern pressures – Work, family, the constant noise of the modern world – and on top of that, the weight of a legacy he doesn’t fully understand.

But Michael isn’t just looking at his father’s past from a comfortable distance.

He understands far more about pressure, responsibility and fear than he lets on.

He has walked his own hard path, shouldered his own burdens, and made choices that have left their own marks. That shared, unspoken understanding between him and William is part of what makes their relationship so complicated.

Despite all the silence, Michael is still proud to have followed in his father’s footsteps – not necessarily in the exact same way, but in spirit: living up to the example of courage, loyalty and duty that William set, even when it came at a cost.

When Michael starts reading William’s story, it isn’t just about military history. It’s about:

A son rebuilding his picture of who his father truly was Discovering the reasons behind the silences, the moods, the unspoken things Deciding what kind of man he wants to be, carrying that legacy forward

Through Michael, we see how the impact of war doesn’t end when the guns fall silent – it carries on through generations.

Why Their Story Matters

At its core, The Lost Hero is about more than battles and campaigns. It’s about:

Fathers and sons What service asks of a family, not just a soldier The damage, courage and love that sit quietly behind the word “veteran”

William represents the men who went, did the job, and rarely spoke about it.

Michael represents the children of that generation – trying to make sense of what was never said, and feeling the weight of that legacy in their own lives.

Two men, bound by blood and by experiences they struggle to talk about.

If you decide to read The Lost Hero, my hope is that you don’t just see uniforms and operations – you see people. Flawed, brave, stubborn, loving, and human.

Thanks for reading, and for walking alongside William and Michael on this journey.

If you’ve already met them in the book, I’d love to know in the comments:

Which of the two do you relate to more – William or Michael, and why?

— Ryan