We will mete out to the Germans the measure and more than the measure that they have meted out to us. We will have no truce or parley with you, or the grisly gang who work your wicked will. You do your worst and we will do our best.

A few weeks before his eighth birthday, in 1882, Churchill – like many other children of his class and background – was sent away to boarding school. It was at his second school in Brighton (after two unhappy years at St George’s, Ascot where ‘floggings’ were common) that he learnt things that interested him; not just French and history, but riding a horse and swimming. Both riding and swimming were to feature heavily in his life. At Harrow he represented his house at swimming competitions, but it was at fencing that he excelled. In 1889, Churchill wrote to his ‘Darling Mummy’ asking her to allow him to take up fencing. Churchill went on to become an accomplished fencer and even became Public Schools Fencing Champion in 1892.

Churchill knew that the fastest way to political advancement lay in active service – ‘the glittering gateway to distinction’. He bemoaned the fact that the world was growing so ‘sensible and pacific’. There weren’t any battles close to home – as yet – so he had to look further afield to find action. For the moment, though, there was action to be found on a far-distant island – Cuba – and, through his mother’s contacts, Churchill managed to wangle a commission as a war correspondent for the Off he went, spirits high, to see some action. In late 1895, he and a friend Reginald Barnes were given leave to travel to Cuba, to observe the military campaign by the Spanish government troops against Cuban guerrilla rebels. Churchill spent some of his twenty first birthday under fire when the column he was travelling with was attacked. Despite only being in Cuba for sixteen days, he was recommended for the Spanish Cross of the Order of Military Merit.

When Churchill sailed to India with his regiment, the Queen’s Hussars, in 1896, polo – and winning regimental polo cups – seemed to be the only action he was likely to see. Eager to make his mark, he took matters into his own hands and persuaded the to take him on as a war correspondent. In 1897, he travelled to the North West frontier of India and Pakistan to join the Malakand Field Force fighting against the Afghan tribes in 1897, under the command of Sir Bindon Blood. It took him a total of five uncomfortable weeks (by ship and by train), with the promise of nothing more than a role as ‘correspondent’, to get to the front.

Away from the field of battle, Churchill’s risk-taking continued unabated. By January 1910, he was Home Secretary (his exploits in the war zones of the British Empire having succeeded in getting him into ‘the game of politics’) – and managed to engineer himself into the centre of the action.

Typically adventurous, Churchill learnt to fly in 1913 when he was First Lord of the Admiralty, only ten years after the first aeroplane flight. At the time, the Royal Navy only had about a dozen aircraft and accidents were common. Planes weren’t very substantial; many of them couldn’t carry heavy loads, with some barely able to lift the pilot, never mind a co-pilot. Their engines were unreliable and even a modest wind could impede a flight. Flying these fragile planes required considerable skill as well as a great deal of luck.

By the time Churchill was facing another World War, in 1939, he understood more readily that while risks had to be taken, a balance needed to be struck between caution and ‘over-daring’. As Prime Minister, he walked the narrow road between the ‘precipices’ on either side; he needed nerves of steel to keep Britain and the Allies on the path to victory.

While ‘the man of action’ perhaps more accurately describes Churchill in time of battle, demanding action from others and of himself, he was always a restless man, fearful of inaction. In his quieter years, he was always determined to keep himself busy (perhaps to keep the ‘black dog’ of depression at bay). Although his favourite pastime was painting, he continued to travel, ride and swim, as well as write books during his ‘wilderness years’ – he only gave up playing polo when he was fifty-two – and into his sixties and seventies. Even when elderly, after the Second World War, he continued to travel (to the US, to give lectures and speeches, to Europe for holidays). Despite having suffered heart attacks, strokes and pneumonia, he was far more active – and physically resilient – than most his age.

Above all, in his management of the Second World War, Churchill made things happen. He scribbled memoranda and despatched these with amazing frequency to his commanders in the field and stamped his red ‘Action this Day’ labels on documents, urging speedy resolution. He demanded commitment and action alike from his colleagues and staff – just as he did from himself – and his constant prodding resulted in hundreds of different ideas and initiatives being pursued at any one time. Churchill famously employed the ‘Action This Day’ red stickers in response to a missive from four of his overworked code-breakers (including Alan Turing) in October 1941. When the under-resourced code-breakers at Bletchley Park asked for more help, Churchill wrote ‘Action this day! Make sure they have all they want on extreme priority and report to me that this has been done’. Throughout his life, Churchill made things happen. He was relentlessly driven and focussed; a workaholic, determined to fulfil his own destiny and to protect his country – and he did all he could to ensure all those round him followed him and made things happen too.