Wartime Memories (story 7)

I had left Mary at Stirling Station on Saturday evening [5TH May, 1945] to
travel south to Uxbridge, via London. The train was 2 hours late in reaching
London, but I arrived at my destination during the course of the Sunday [6th] as I
was obliged to do. If the unfortunate reason for me leaving Alness was ignored, it
was certainly a quite remarkable stroke of luck that I arrived at R.A.F. Station,
Uxbridge, just 2 days before V.E. day, so giving me the opportunity of seeing, and
participating in, the celebrations in London. The formal programme intended for us
was thrown into some confusion, or at least, temporarily abandoned.
On V.E. Day [minus 1], during the forenoon, we were put into groups of
between 20 and 30 and were free for the remainder of the day. This enabled me to go
to early lunch and I was in the tube for London by 1 o’clock. I set out for Piccadilly
where crowds of people had already gathered. There were hosts of flag-sellers, and
decorations were being hung from buildings at great speed. Newspapers were being
sold like hot cakes. I walked along to Trafalgar Square, past Nelson’s Column, then
on to Buckingham Palace, Houses of Parliament, Whitehall, Downing Street, etc.
There were many Cabinet Ministers rushing around the Downing Street area. I
paused with the crowds here and there waiting for something special to happen.
There seemed to be hundreds of camera-men. Then suddenly I saw a long
procession, with an effigy of Hitler held high, on their way to Hyde Park to have it
burned. I followed — then on to St. James’s Park and Buckingham Palace once again
where workmen were busily engaged on the King’s balcony. They were sweeping it
and laying down a wooden platform. A few minutes later, I bought a newspaper with
the headline ‘King’s balcony gets a sweeping’. There were thousands of people
outside the Palace and all the gardens seemed suddenly to become a sea of red and
white flowers, the tulips providing a magnificent display. What struck me about the
folks in London was that they would stand for hours waiting and hoping for
something to happen. Wherever you saw a battery of loud speakers being put up,
you were sure to see a crowd assemble. During the course of the day, I met 2
friendly faces from Alness — an Officer and a Flight-Sergeant to whom I had given
leave passes a few days earlier — it shows the vast number of people a Station
Adjutant connects with.
We all knew by about 2-45 p.m. that the war with Germany was over, and
everybody expected to hear Churchill at any moment. The crowds were
disappointed when that did not happen.
Lots of people were climbing up lamp-posts and all over the statue of Eros.
Many neon signs were flickering back to life. Half the American Air Force seemed to
be in London celebrating. By 8 o’clock in the evening, the whole city was a mass of
flags and bunting. All the walls were transformed to red, white, and blue, with many
stars and stripes. There were countless uniforms and coloured dresses, with
naturally, red, white and blue being the predominant colours. For 1s.6d. I had a meal
of fish, greens and beetroot, plus tea, in Lyon’s Corner-house.
I lingered awhile until it became dark so that I could relish the display of lights
and the myriad show of colours. Then, with very tired legs, I was back in Uxbridge
by 9-30 p.m. to enjoy a 9-hours sleep, not being unduly disturbed by the terrific
thunderstorm which happened during the night.
On V.E. Day [Tuesday, 8th May], our 9 a.m. class was curtailed to 10 minutes
to enable everyone to attend a short Parade-ground Thanksgiving Service, after
which, following another early lunch, I once again set off for London with a newfound
friendly Air Force Officer, from Port Ellen in the Western Isles, who needed
help in finding his way around. The sun was shining beautifully and there were
already huge crowds when we arrived about 1-30 p.m. Starting at Piccadilly once
more, we followed the route which I had taken yesterday. All the traffic had come to
a stand-still and the throngs of people were so great that it was difficult to thread
your way through them — wherever one went every place was mobbed. Near the
Houses of Parliament, I heard Churchill’s speech through the loud speakers and I’m
sure that the cheering would be heard all the way to Stirling. As I mentioned
already, lamp-posts were favourite look-out places, so also were traffic signals, pillboxes
— anything that was above ground level.
A few minutes after 3 o’clock, there was a great commotion. Churchill was on
his way to the House of Commons and he was being ambushed by the crowd. His
car was proceeding at less than walking pace and passed within 5 yards of me. I had
a perfect view of him for nearly 5 minutes — it was a stroke of luck.
There were so many amusing and happy interludes — lorries full of people
shouting and singing — immobile in the streets — the Pathe-Gazette Camera-man
trying to get super ‘shots’, ticker —tape showers from buildings, picnic parties on
any grass area that could be found, and the sun was shining all the time. At 4
o’clock, we walked back to Leicester Square and managed to get into a café, where I
had sausage and toast, 2 pieces of cake, and 2 glasses of lemonade, all for 1s. 10d.
When we left the café, there were waiting queues over 100 yards long. We
continued up to Piccadilly, where the crowds were having a wonderful time —
dancing on the street and playing with massive balloons. There were people on
window-ledges auctioning hats which they had hooked from heads below. Then a
car-ful of wounded men would pass by and they would get a tremendous cheer.
We next walked to Buckingham Palace where, a few minutes after we arrived,
the King and Queen, the Princesses, and Churchill came out on to the balcony to
rousing cheers. Then we went up through Marble Arch and round by the West End,
past an American Club where there were many Americans at windows and on ledges
throwing oranges, chocolate, cigarettes and money coins to the large crowd. We
decided that we had had enough — oh no, there was a Service in a bombed-out
church and we just had to attend it — so picturesque and unusual. We finally
reached Piccadilly to get or train for Uxbridge to find that all the entrances, except
one, had been closed. About 100 Policemen were on duty trying to keep order and
there was a mile-long queue for trains stretching round several blocks and all the
way underground to the platforms.
We ultimately ‘made it’ and arrived back at the R.A.F. Station in a state of nearexhaustion.
Notwithstanding that, I went for a late-night walk round Uxbridge to
enjoy the sights of all the floodlit cinemas and public buildings. As I prepared for
bed at nearly midnight, I could still see, through the window of my room, the rockets
and search-lights beams streaking over London. My feet were sore and my body
was aching, but I intended to be present at an E.N.S.A. Concert the following
evening.
The next day [Wednesday, 9th], I wrote a long letter to Mary and told her to
expect me on Saturday [12th], the letter containing much detail about which train I
might leave on from London and when I was likely to arrive in Stirling. As part of my
forward thinking following that week-end, I said that I would go on to Alness on
Monday morning [14th], where I would arrive in the evening, and that I would
immediately apply for the balance of my privilege leave and my embarkation leave
with the aim of being back in Stirling on Wednesday [16th] or Thursday [17th]. I
never returned to Alness in accordance with that expected programme and I never
had to make application to anyone for embarkation leave.
The final letter home reported that on the 9th, I had attended ‘the class’ at 9
a.m., that we had a break at 10-10 and another one at 11-30, that at 12noon we
adjourned for lunch until 2 p.m. when we were due to visit the ‘local release centre’,
and finally, it had been arranged that, within the next 2 days, we would visit the
‘release clothing centre’ at Wembley.
It is difficult to record the confusion of my feelings at the beginning of that
momentous week in Uxbridge. I had no sooner arrived at the hub of Government
than I had developed a fuller appreciation of how near we were to the cessation of
hostilities. I had, within hours, been present at the remarkable rapturous display of
emotion and relief on the part of countless thousands of ordinary people,
demonstrating in their own uninhibited way and endorsed by Heads of State and
Government with a minimum of pomp and ceremony, that the demanded
‘unconditional surrender’ was now an accomplished fact. At the same time, I had to
wake up to the realisation that I had been sent south to attend a course in
connection with an overseas posting.
The real end of the story of my war-time experiences turned out to be as
follows. My overseas posting was cancelled. I was given immediately at Uxbridge
what was called a ‘Class B’ release from the Royal Air Force ‘at the request of the
Ministry of Labour and National Service in order to perform work of national
reconstruction’ on the basis that if, at any time, I ceased to carry out the work for
which I had been released, save for health reasons, my release would be revoked and
I would be recalled to duty with the Air Force. I never ceased to undertake the work
for which I had been released, thereby preventing myself from being exposed to a
recall. I was ultimately and finally discharged from the Royal Air Force on 14th
February, 1946, exactly 5 years and 8 months after receiving my original enlistment
notice, by Order issued by Uxbridge on 24th January, 1946, and accordingly severing
the hold the R.A.F. had on me.
During reflections in these final days at Uxbridge, I often pondered how
fortunate I had been in my postings and experiences to avoid exposure to risk and
peril, and generally about the ease with which I had so far completed my period of
service with the Royal Air Force. In my heart, I was grateful for all of this when so
many others had been involved in situations involving great sacrifice. I thought,
particularly, about my brother, Blythe, a ‘desert rat’ in charge of a tank, who had to
fight at El Alamein, then all the way through North Africa, Sicily, Italy, and Germany,
finally sitting ‘in the field’ on their Armistice Day with German soldiers whom, a few
days before, they had been trying to kill, and conversely the Germans them, just like
friends and colleagues discussing and trying to find out, as best as they could
understand each other, what they were
fighting about. For the record, my sister, Peggie, served in the W.A.A.F. in Egypt at
the conclusion of the war, and the following sister and 2 brothers, being younger,
joined the Forces later — Charlotte [A.T.S.]; James [R.A.F.]; David [Army] - in posthostilities
roles. No-one seemed to be interested in joining the Navy!
UNTOLD STORIES
My dear wife had died of cancer in 1979, and on Christmas Eve of the following
year, I married a family friend from Germany whom we had met as a result of Town
Twinning. Gertrud has told me so many fascinating stories of her life in Germany
during the war years and immediately thereafter — for example, how she helped
occupants of the Dachau Concentration Camp to leave after the camp was freed,
how she rowed across the River Rhine from one Occupied Sector to another to get a
piglet in exchange for 3 bottles of wine, one of which had to be used to quieten the
squealing little animal lest it would alert the border guards, and how she was
employed by the Americans to teach senior officers to speak German, etc. She and I
have each celebrated 2 Silver Weddings — I would imagine being something of a
record!

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