MAY 8, 1945 was a day to remember for Bradfordians joining the celebrations of the end of the war in Europe.
On the 80th anniversary of VE Day tomorrow, here are some T&A readers’ memories of that historic occasion.
For one day only, the austerity of war life was put to one side. Flags went up, there was music in the streets and party food was laid out on tables in the streets.
For Rosalie Harris, it was the night the grown-ups danced the conga. Aged five, she was hoisted onto her father’s shoulders, surrounded by cheering crowds, as Victory celebrations went on into the night.
“One of my earliest memories is VE night,” said Rosalie, whose father was seconded by the War Department to work for RAF Bomber Command in Lincolnshire. Her mother worked in munitions. Rosalie went to the war nursery at English Electric in Thornbury.
“On VE night Dad was helping behind the bar at The Garnett pub off Leeds Road. Mum was playing the piano. I was upstairs but heard the celebrations. The place was jigging - conga music, people singing at the top of their voices. Every house had a flag out. We went to Town Hall Square, it was full of people, a wonderful atmosphere. I’ll never forget it.”
David Roper was a toddler when his mum took him into town, but he remembers the jubilant town scenes. “It was the most important day of everyone’s life,” he said. “We walked from the top of Ivegate to witness the soldiers marching along Tyrrell Street. I was stretching up to hold my mother’s hand. We went down to the bottom to get a grandstand view of the soldiers. In the back line, the side nearest to us, was my father, shouldering his rifle. The emotion of that day meant little to me then - it was later that I realised what my father and all the others had done.”
May 8, 1945 was a good night for the pubs. In his book The Local: A History of The English Pub, historian Dr Paul Jennings says pubs played an important role in wartime life: “In contrast to the First World War, when drink and the pub were seen as harming the war effort and were subject to restrictions, in the Second World War the pub was viewed as important for maintaining morale. It is at this time that the phrase ‘The local’ came into general use.
“My dad said pubs were never busier than during the war. They were also popular with Canadian and later American servicemen. There was a nice story Dad told me about when he was in the RAF he knew a chap who always talked about getting back to the Airedale on Otley Road once it was all over. Happily, he did, and his wedding reception was held there.”
The Airedale, pulled down in the 1960s, was lively on VE night, recalled May Chapman. May, who was 20 when the war ended, was an ‘Avro Girl’ working at Yeadon Aerodrome, a munitions factory camouflaged with fake farm buildings and dummy cows to conceal it from enemy fire. “I got up at dawn and worked 12-hour shifts. VE Day couldn’t come fast enough,” said May, whose mother and neighbours headed for the Airedale on VE night.
“I was at home with my sisters, we could hear the music and danced around the dining-table. It was a jolly night. But our dad was in North Africa and didn’t come home until months later. He was a changed man.”
Vincent Finn recalls an account of VE Day which his brother wrote in his school exercise book: “We were at St Mary’s Boys School on East Parade. Paper was scarce in the war but we were all given a book to write in. My mother kept our school books long after we left home. My brother Thomas wrote in his: ‘On Tuesday eighth of May Mr Churchill announced that it was VE Day. We had a bonfire, we roasted a stone of potatoes and burnt half of them. We set fireworks off such as star lights, rip-raps and thunderbolts, at half past nine I went into town to see the illuminations. I rode on a tram. Soldiers were setting fireworks off, others were dancing. I came home and went to bed.’
Vincent continues: “All the news came from the wireless and newsreels at the cinema. Not every house had a wireless. We had one, we always had it on for the evening BBC news at 9pm. VE Day meant the end of hostilities in Europe, but it would be a year or more before soldiers who were demobbed would begin arriving home. My friend’s father was a prisoner of war, I don’t think he came home until the end of 1946.”
Pierre Richterich recalls building a bonfire with pals in Cottingley: “We cut down two sycamores in Potters Field for a magnificent blaze in Cottingley Rec. The local bobby paid visits to various parents two days later. It seems he was softened up with a tot or two of whisky. My father, recently back from service, meekly offered a cup of tea. Happy, no jail ensued but for VJ Day no more sycamores!”
VE Day was Keith Hebden’s fourth birthday: “I was born on May 8, 1941 during an air raid. My mother, who was extremely frightened, was comforted by my father, who said, ‘Don’t worry! You only get hit by a bomb if it’s got your name on it’.”
Tony Emmott sent us a photo of himself aged three at a family VE Day party. With his father in Asia, it was a reminder that, for some, the war continued. “The photo was taken at the hamlet of Highbank Cottages, Moorhead Lane, Shipley,” says Tony. “My bespectacled grandmother is in the centre of the picture with me on her knee, partly obscured. My father was still serving in the RAF in India.”
Simon Blakey, whose father was serving in Trieste, Italy, said: “Celebrations were brief then the struggle continued. Many men, like my father, didn’t come home until much later. I had a German friend, the day the war ended his father was in hospital in Hanover. German officers in the hospital formed a little committee to prepare for the arrival of Americans. When they came through the door they all swapped cigarettes. Peace was made.”
