Chapter Eight - On to the End
1945 STARTED with a wave of optimism. The Germans appeared to have 'shot their bolt' in the Battle of the Bulge, and the Russian advance seemed to be unstoppable. All the talk and summit conferences centred on what was going to happen when it was all over. Could it be that we really were going to march into 'broad sunlit uplands' as the Prime Minister once called them, or would we descend into the same pattern as before, with periods of peace and war alternating as nation after nation struggled for supremacy?
We all knew what had happened to the League of Nations before the war, and many people were sceptical about the newly formed United Nations, which promised so much. Even after the anticipated fall of Germany, Japan still had to be defeated, and nobody thought that this would be easy. Nevertheless, Victory in Europe seemed certain, and we could perhaps be forgiven if we were pre-occupied with the prospect of 'our war' coming to an end.
Even as early as January 1945 we were thinking in terms of celebration when it was all over. Father had turned out the cupboards to find as much bunting as possible, and Mother had been into town to purchase a sizeable Union Jack and, at my insistence, an American and a Russian flag. The Russian flag was particularly difficult to obtain. She had to make several journeys, and went to dozens of shops before she got one. At a distance it looked fine, but in reality it was no more than a piece of red cloth with a Hammer and Sickle painted on it. Both the Union Jack and the Stars and Stripes had poles, but the Red Flag had no such attachment, and I had to make one out of an old broom handle.
Of course the people of Ferryden were getting excited, and it was clear that 'VE' day, as we came to know it, was going to be a tremendous occasion. Apart from flags and bunting, it was decided to have parties in the streets, and an enormous bonfire on the recreation ground. In today's world this may not have seemed much to shout about, but in those times of austerity, shortages and restrictions, it was almost the event of a lifetime.
In spite of the anticipation, the war still had to be won, and the Germans had no intention of capitulating. They were frightened by the prospect of Russian domination, and hated the idea of unconditional surrender. As we had done in 1940, they formed a 'Dads Army' called the 'Volkssturm', and were using the 'Hitler Youth' to bolster their defences. We, on the other hand, had stood the 'Home Guard' down.
The Allied determination to press for unconditional surrender was heightened by the discovery of the extermination camps at Auschwitz, and later at Bergen-Belsen, Buchenwald and Dachau. Most people could hardly believe that a civilised nation, which had given so much to culture and was famous for its achievements in science and engineering, could stoop to such levels of bestiality. Everyone expressed their utter disgust and revulsion at the Nazi's treatment of the Jews, and few accepted the excuse that most German people did not know what was happening in their own country.
It was argued that, even if the towns and villages far away from the camps had not known, those living nearby must have seen people being herded in and realised that nobody ever came out. They must also have been aware of the terrible smell, which would have been noticeable over a very wide area. It is difficult to believe that atrocities on such a scale could have been completely undetected by the mass of the people.
Until then, we as a family could never comprehend why there was so much encouragement to hate the Germans, but understandably, these discoveries generated deep feelings of anger and resentment towards them. There was little sympathy for the terrible loss of life and the destruction being meted out by the Allied air forces. Most people felt that they were only getting what they deserved.
Even the bombing of Dresden seemed to pass with little criticism, although there was considerable emphasis on its importance as a military target. Since then, the destruction of that beautiful city has been seen by many people as a terrible crime. In retrospect, it probably was an unnecessary act of war, but it has to be viewed against a background of military needs as they were seen at the time, and the anger we all felt at the unspeakable atrocities.
One thing which particularly upset me, and for a long time played on my mind, was the picture of a man kneeling at prayer in a church which had been filled with people and deliberately set on fire by the Nazis. The man was no more than a charred, dust covered corpse, who was most probably praying for his stricken comrades and for God's mercy on his assassins. Such terrible crimes serve to remind us of the utter futility of war, and of the depths to which even the most civilised of peoples can descend when they are caught up in its ruthlessness.
Although our family shared the revulsion of our fellow countrymen, we felt there was a distinction between those who were directly responsible and decent people who had been misled or carried along by events. Mother, in particular, wanted to show that condemnation of the whole German nation was not our view, and she was determined to make this known.
Immediately after the war in Europe had ended, there was an appeal from the church for volunteers to show acts of kindness to German prisoners of war who were awaiting repatriation. She saw this as an opportunity, and we entertained three of them for Christmas. Later on, she had one prisoner billeted on us who was detailed for work in a local bakery.
Our guests at Christmas were Kurt, David and Wilhelm. They had served in the German army, and were overjoyed to think that former enemies had extended the hand of friendship. Before they came we were a little apprehensive about our ability to communicate, but need not have worried. Wilhelm could speak perfect English, and the other two had picked up enough to make themselves understood. Unbeknown to us, they had spent a lot of their free time making presents, which had been crafted from scrap materials obtained in the prison camp.
These were a complete surprise, and we were overwhelmed to see how much love and care had gone into their construction. Although this occasion was intended as a 'one off', the prisoners made many more visits and created a lasting bond of friendship. Mother corresponded with Kurt and David for many years after the war, although we lost touch with Wilhelm. Above all, this small act of reconciliation impressed upon us that these decent ordinary people hated war as much as we did, and only wanted to live in peace.
The other prisoner who was billeted on us had worked in the bakery for several months, and was an expert at his job. His employer wanted to keep him in this country, but the pull of his homeland was too strong, and he eventually returned to Germany where he married and brought up a family. We lost touch some years afterwards, but he appeared to be doing well, and probably has several grandchildren.
Although we were probably the only family in our part of the village to offer hospitality at Christmas, many acts of kindness were shown by the inhabitants, and a number of prisoners of war opted to stay in this country. It is a credit to the fair mindedness of the British people that this was allowed to happen, and it is touching to note the depth of feeling that many ex-prisoners have. I know of two in particular who, to this day, have no desire to go back to their homeland, and who become very angry if they meet anyone who tries to belittle our nation and what it stands for.
In those days, most children left school at the age of fourteen, and at the beginning of 1945 I had been in work for several months, bringing home the princely sum of one pound per week, which was considered to be a good wage. Initially, I worked as an office junior in a plastics factory. Later on I was employed by a paper company, and eventually became a Laboratory Assistant. Working for a living was quite a novelty after the carefree days at school, but a little money in the pocket gave a sense of independence, and heightened my interest in the opposite sex.
I was a member of the Ferryden Youth Club, which gave me plenty of opportunities for socialising with female company, and prompted me to 'smarten myself up'. I had several fleeting romances, which never seemed to last for more than a week or two, but later on in the year I met a girl who, for some reason, appeared to have more interest in me than I had in her. We shared the same pastimes, and sometimes spent an evening or two together. This relationship grew, and gradually blossomed into a friendship, which eventually lead to a deep seated love which has lasted to this day. We were married in Ferryden Parish Church on a beautiful September day in 1951, and I can honestly say that it was the best thing I ever did.
Although I left school at the age of fourteen, we were encouraged to continue our studies, and several of us, including Dennis Hughes and Fred Walton, went to night school. This meant that after work we had to travel five or six miles to the nearest technical college. Here we could study a number of subjects, and I chose maths, chemistry and physics. The lessons lasted for three hours on each of three nights during the week. Although we sometimes used public transport, the most popular means of travel was a bicycle. Lighting was not a problem at that stage in the war, the only enemy activity being the occasional air launched Doodle Bug, or maybe a rocket attack.
These attacks continued until the early spring, and I can remember a seemingly close encounter with a Doodle Bug which overtook me as I cycled home. The characteristic clatter of the engine was exceptionally loud, and the flaming tail seemed larger than ever. I could also detect a hissing noise which sounded like drops of water on a red hot metal .surface. The missile was bound for London, but was probably at a much lower altitude than normal. It was the last missile I can remember seeing, although a V2 fell in open countryside near Ferryden in March 1945, making a massive crater but causing no damage.
As the spring of 1945 approached, it was clear that the war in Europe would soon be over, and the deaths of Hitler and Mussolini seemed to confirm this. Admiral Doenitz took over from Hitler, and indicated that the war would continue, but resistance was crumbling on every front. The Russians had met with British and American forces, and the war in Italy was over.
We were all getting, very excited about the prospect of final victory when news broke that stunned the World. President Roosevelt had died. Father was almost in tears when he heard the news. He, like many of us, had great respect for the President, who proved himself to be a great friend in Britain's hour of need. He had on many occasions won us the support of the American people when the odds were against us, and had often suffered considerable criticism for doing so. It was a sad and untimely loss when ultimate victory was so near. However, we all knew that President Truman would not flinch from his responsibilities, and he quickly proved himself to be a worthy successor.
When VE day finally came, we all went mad. People did the most extraordinary things. Some got themselves blind drunk, some dressed up in the most outrageous clothes, and others performed acts of daring they would never have attempted under normal circumstances. There was dancing and singing in the streets, complete strangers were kissing and hugging one another, and the pubs stayed open.
The celebrations seemed endless, and VE day was a national holiday. Like most other villagers, we had already put out the flags and bunting. However, much to my dismay, the Red Flag I had so painstakingly prepared was stolen during the night, and we never recovered it. Mother was particularly annoyed about this, but it was not allowed to spoil the fun and we joined in the revelry.
As so often happens, some of the bonfires got out of hand and the fire brigade had a very busy time. Fortunately, most of these were in open countryside and the problems were more to do with the size of the structures than the threat they posed to life or property. Fireworks were on sale for the first time since the outbreak of war, and the police had a busy time trying to stop them being let off in the streets.
One spectacular prank involved an old hollow tree in a nearby meadow. The tree had been dead for several years, and was in a highly combustible state. Someone had spotted its 'funnel-like' trunk, and a convenient entry hole about half way up. They poured a can of paraffin into this, and set light to it. The tree went up like a rocket, and continued burning well into the night. All that could be seen the next morning was a mass of charred remains in a smouldering heap around its base.
Although the police and fire brigade were kept busy that night, a lenient attitude was taken, and the celebrations went on with typical good humour. I am not sure what time we went to bed, but it must have been during the early hours of the morning, and we slept the clock round. The next morning it was back to reality. We had work to do, and were reminded on the radio that the war in the Pacific had still to be won.
Knowing how fanatically the Japanese had fought, and their utter contempt for anyone who surrendered on the field of battle, we all felt that victory in the Pacific would not be easy. The Americans were still a long way from the mainland of Japan, and each of the island conquests had been protracted and bloody. Like the Americans in the Pacific, we were driving the Japanese back in Burma and Malaya, and although things were going well, we were a long way from regaining all the territory we had lost.
Victory in Europe brought about a change in the political climate, and the coalition government resigned. The return to party politics was confirmation that hostilities had ceased, but it emphasised all the divisions and squabbles that had existed in Britain before the war. In the event, an election was held, and Labour won a landslide victory.
Father had always been a supporter of the Conservative party, and we as a family took an active part in the election, helping to man the committee rooms and acting as 'Tellers' at the polling station. The result was a great disappointment for him, but he emphasised that it was the will of the people, and accepted the result with good grace. Clement Attlee was the new Prime Minister, heading up a government that was committed to a huge programme of public ownership and social reform.
Euphoria over the defeat of Germany did not bring peace and harmony. Cracks in the alliance between the big powers were already showing, with disagreements on the future of Europe, and disputes over national boundaries. Father was not at all surprised at the turn of events. He never did trust the Russians, and was convinced long before the war ended that we would have trouble. He had no more time for Stalin than he had for Hitler or Mussolini, and history proved him right.
In spite of these difficulties, the end of the war in Europe meant that we could at least make a start at getting back to normal, and one of the most obvious steps was to get the lights back on. This happened in July, and coincided with the end of double summertime. In a strange kind of way, each little step back to normality took a lot of getting used to. It was almost like a person with a broken leg trying to walk again. For a long time we felt exposed and vulnerable whenever we switched the lights on and did not use the blackout curtains. We felt similarly exposed when we travelled in a vehicle or on a bicycle with the lights full on, and half expected to be stopped by a policeman or an 'Air Raid Warden'.
The defeat of Germany had been more or less as we expected - her armies had been on the defensive and in full retreat for some time – but the end of the war against Japan came as a shock. The timing and the manner of its end were quite unexpected.
During the war, our family had received books and papers from relatives in Canada which had often referred to new and revolutionary weapons based on nuclear fission. It was claimed that these devices would unleash atomic power of almost limitless ferocity, destroying countries as well as cities. Most of us knew that research was being undertaken in Britain, America and Germany, but thought that the idea of nuclear bombs was little more than science fiction.
The news that an atomic bomb had actually been dropped on Hiroshima was devastating, and we were astonished to learn that another, of a different type, had fallen on Nagasaki. The pictures we saw in the papers filled us with horror, and we knew that the end must be near. Even so, we were still in a state of shock when the surrender came. We thought the Japanese would fight to the bitter end, no matter how hopeless their position. The atomic bomb was a terrible weapon, but there can be little doubt that it saved many tens of thousands, or even hundreds of thousands, of Allied servicemen's lives.
To the best of my recollection, the 'VJ' day celebrations were not as ecstatic as those on VE day. We put out the flags, had street parties, kept the pubs open, lit bonfires, and stayed up late, but the Pacific war was a long way off and we were not quite so emotionally involved. The big departure was the access we had to fireworks. A shop in Ferryden had just taken delivery of a large consignment at pre-war prices, and we, together with Eric Daley's family, must have purchased about half the available stock.
Eric had built a huge bonfire in his back garden, and we were invited together with many other friends. There were tea chests full of fireworks, and it was the biggest 'blow up' I can ever remember. Eric, George, myself, and several others were letting them off for two hours or more. It was a fantastic display that we all enjoyed, and that I shall never forget.
The celebrations were soon over, and we realised that the 'sunlit uplands' we had dreamed of were a long way off. The country had bled itself white in the pursuit of victory, and the years ahead were not going to be easy. Rationing would be with us for some time to come, and many of the wartime shortages and hardships would continue. We had suffered much to win the war, and would have to endure much more before our prosperity returned.
