Don McCullin’s war photographs - taken over 30 years under fire in Cyprus, with the Israelis, in Biafra, Vietnam, Cambodia and Lebanon - are a harrowing testimony of man’s inhumanity to man. Though they have appeared in the world’s leading newspapers and more than one bestselling book, not until now have we heard at first hand the extraordinary story of his life. Vulnerable, rebellious, defensive, shy but passionate about his craft and the English countryside, he gives us the full fury of his resentment at the deprivation of his childhood. He is no less sparing of our emotions when writing about those he sees suffering even more than himself. During Hitler’s war he was evacuated but returned to grinding poverty in London to finish his toughening and growing up, stealing coal to keep his father warm when he was dying. The gang warfare of his youth bred in him a suicidal courage that again and again would have earned him medals as a serving soldier. His struggle to come to terms with the sophistication of Fleet Street was as bewildering to him as photographing starving children in the Congo one day and sitting down to a full table with his own family the next.