VE Day 70th Anniversary

Winston Churchill signals Victory!

Just a few days ago the country celebrated the 70th anniversary of VE Day. For younger readers that was Victory in Europe Day, the public holiday that marked the formal acceptance by the Allies of Nazi Germany’s surrender. The country went a bit bananas that day in 1945 (May 8th), and who could blame them? There were street parties up and down the nation, singing and dancing in the streets and the pubs, flag waving, and everyone had a high old time. Even the Queen (still Princess Elizabeth at the time, and just 19 years old) was allowed out of the Palace to join the thousands celebrating in the capital, along with her sister, Princess Margaret (only 14), and they joined in the celebrations, incognito of course, and accompanied by an officer.

It was the day Britain emerged, bleary eyed, from years of misery, privation and war, and the ever present threat of invasion by an evil regime. Of course the country went a bit crazy, the relief must have been incredible. Right on 3 pm the Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, announced that the war in Europe was over, and the country started celebrating for the first time in years. Church bells rang out for the first time since the war began – bell ringing had been banned for the duration, with the idea that they would be rung only to warn of an imminent invasion.

Millions died in the war … but each one was a real person

Many members of the armed forces weren’t back home yet, and wouldn’t be for quite some time. And of course some of them would never return. Together with civilian deaths they would total something like half a million. But that’s just Britain’s losses, and it’s just a number. Worldwide, well over 50 million died, and probably closer to 80 million, according to recent estimates. With numbers like these it’s easy to forget that each one of them was an individual … someone’s husband or father. Or mother, or brother, or some other relative.

It’s hard to comprehend the impact of such losses, both individually and as a nation, specially from the perspective of 70 years on. But I do hope younger people are made aware of that terrible war and its consequences. I’m glad to see lots of documentaries on television about that era, and I think it’s right that those times are remembered and that lessons are learned.

I wasn’t born till a few years after the war. I don’t remember it ever really being talked about either. Maybe people were just so fed up with the misery of war and hardship and rationing that they just wanted to leave it where it lay, in the past.

As a kid I used to play soldiers, like all the other kids, but I didn’t really know what it was all about (the real war, I mean). And there were bomb sites in our street where houses had been razed to the ground in the blitz, and no doubt in dozens of local streets, but I can’t really remember much about that. All I remember is that, as innocent kids, we used to play on those sites of death and destruction, completely unaware of the tragedies they represented.

Even at school, we were only yards from reminders of the war, but ignorant of them. There were bomb shelters in the playground, but again, we were unaware of their real purpose – we just used to play in them like they’d been built purely for our amusement. They were low, squat, dirty concrete constructions, windowless (naturally) and dark, and perfect for kids’ games.

Remembering my father

My dad saw active service in the war. He went ashore on Juno Beach on D-Day, and he was wounded in the Battle of the Bulge a few months later. I never heard him mention anything about it though, he just carried on with life like nothing had happened. At least that’s what it looked like on the surface, but I’m sure he was left with more than just physical wounds and scars. But, like most men who’d ‘been there’, he kept it to himself and just got on with life.

Was he perfect? Not really … he used to get drunk from time to time and lose his temper, and for us kids that could be frightening, but with what he’d been through I can totally understand that now. But he was a perfect dad as far as I’m concerned, and you can’t say much better than that about any man.

He died when I was just 14, so I never got the chance to speak to him about the war. Except for one time, I must have been only 5 or 6, and he’d come in off nights and was sitting up in bed, smoking his pipe. I’d probably been playing with my toy soldiers and I asked him about being in the war. I vaguely remember him telling me how tired he used to be sometimes, and how he’d just fall asleep standing up, leaning against a tree with his rifle in his hand. And how he and the other soldiers learned a few words of French to cadge some food off the locals – words for bread and milk and eggs, that sort of thing. I even remember him using the French words, which is amazing since it’s so long ago and I was so young at the time.

He also told me the Germans were very good soldiers – as a regular soldier, and having served in an élite regiment, he could appreciate that they were just doing their job, and to the best of their ability. Enemies they might have been, but there was obviously mutual respect, alongside the obvious necessity to try to kill one another. Just goes to show how crazy war is!

Awarded the DCM by King George VI

It was a long, long time before I learned what he’d been through. My brother put together a long and carefully researched document on his military service and I eventually got hold of a copy. I’ve made a much abbreviated version and added a few words of my own, and I attach it here so you can take a look if you’re interested. It includes my father’s citation for the Distinguished Conduct Medal, which was presented to him by the King at Buckingham Palace.

It must have been a very, very proud day, both for him and my mother, but of course this was a few years before I was even born so I don’t have any memories of it. All I know is that I’m enormously proud of my dad’s bravery in what must have been a truly desperate situation, and reading his citation never fails to choke me up. Proud too of my mother’s strength and forebearance, since she was left at home to look after a young family single-handed. How she managed it I swear I will never know.

So perhaps you can understand why celebrations (or commemorations) of VE Day or D-Day always mean something special to me. And I guess you can understand why I’ve included a mention of the VE Day 70th anniversary celebrations in this blog. It’s because what this country and its allies achieved by standing up to Nazi Germany and finally bringing it to its knees was indeed truly amazing. And my father’s part in it was nothing less than truly amazing as well.