Today is the 65th anniversary of VE Day. I wasn’t born then, and I have long since lost my juvenile illusions about the perceived glories of war, as well as the jingoism that still simmers in the British mentality. And yet I feel emotional.
Imagine how the British people must have felt on May 8th, 1945.
Early May is a glorious time anyway – the colour green holds full sway over the gardens, the parks and the landscape. The birds are nesting and their song provides a soothing, melodious backdrop to the business of living. The sun is high and the days are lengthening. Life is burgeoning and summer is almost here.
Judging by newsreel footage of the time, May 1945 seems to have been a warm and sunny one. The people of Britain had just endured nearly six long years of horror. Bombings, rationing, the constant threat of invasion, and the fear of losing loved ones on a daily basis. And then, one beautiful day in May of all months, the announcement is made. The surrender has been signed and the war is finally over.
Truly imagine what that must have felt like, and I defy you not to feel emotional.
And I think it must have been similar for the whole of Europe, including the German people who had endured even heavier bombing than we had.
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