Wartime women

May 7
[…]

We have an egg and boiled bacon for tea; in our rooms, we grouse at the way the public has been built up to this point only to be let down by lack of official news. Suddenly, one of the girls, leaning out of the window, yells, ‘Hey – something about 3 o’clock tomorrow! With one accord, we race round to the Rec. room, where the radio is, but it is turned off. At this moment, the bell rings for Parade. We troop into the Concert Hall, all talking at once. I realize that I have my bedroom slippers on, and have to dash back to put my shoes on! Then, the Company Commander announces that tomorrow is VE-Day, Churchill will speak at 3 p.m., gives out a few other items, then, ‘Any questions?’ The shout goes up – ‘Can we go out?’ Smiling broadly, she gives us permission, but we must be in by midnight. Next night, we can have an extension til 2 a.m., if not going home.
We rush back for our hats, and jump on a bus to Hyde Park Corner. The western end of Piccadilly is no more crowded than usual, just smiling people, mostly in uniform, strolling in either direction. I thought there’d be millions of people out,’ remarks K.
Nearer Piccadilly Circus, there are more, and we stop to buy red, white and blue favours at exorbitant prices from hawkers, who already line the pavements and are doing a roaring trade. By an entrance to the Tube, a soldier is being helped along, a white cloth round his forehead, his hand to his face, and blood pouring from it.
M. says, I don’t think I’m going to like this, but as it happened, this was the only distressing sight we were to see all evening.
In Piccadilly Circus, the crowds are fairly dense, and also down Coventry St. We exclaim at a neon sign in Leicester Sq. and at the lighted revolving dome of the Coliseum – sights forgotten in these six years.

[…]

But outside, London is really getting into the Victory mood, without waiting for Mr Churchill. The Embankment is quiet, but Trafalgar Sq. is gayer than ever, dancing and singing, the Marseillaise and ‘Knees up Mother Brown’
The Palais Glide in the Haymarket, and little bonfires on the pavements, fed by newspapers. Then – Piccadilly Circus again. It is dark now, no street lights and few lighted windows. But it is one mass of yelling, laughing, singing, shrieking people; a small sports car is trying to wriggle through, and its folded roof is in shreds. A brilliantly lit bus is bogged down beside Eros, with people swarming all over it, inside and out. A man has climbed a lamp standard, and is beating his hands against the unlit lamp. Most of the men are in uniform – all services and nationalities. The Canadians are noisy, the sailors are merry, the airmen are drunk (or pretend to be), the Americans have a girl apiece, and are the quietest of all.
Back along Piccadilly, the crowds are thinning, another bus rattles by, with figures clinging on all round. All the way to Knightsbridge, happy groups pass, and people still hope to get buses home. This is midnight, Victory Eve – and – Oh, my poor feet!

May 8th

[…]
VE-day was very quiet at home. My father came home from Liverpool, and we stayed in listening to the radio, and had a family party at teatime. In the centre of the table was a dish of canned pineapple, which Mother had saved through all the long years for this day. We went to the village church for a short service; it was full, and everyone sang ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’ with might and main. Back home to hear the King’s speech and the news. The children have built a bonfire, and, unable to wait for darkness, have a lovely blaze at dusk, under the watchful eye of an NFS man. At intervals during the day, the ships and tugs in the river set up a lively chorus on their hooters and sirens – the traditional ‘Cock-a-doodle-oo’ and the Victory-
V. This usually signifies a BLA leave ship coming alongside.
Feeling rather flat, I was ready for bed by midnight; none of my friends is left locally, and others live too far away. I watched the signs of other festivities from an upper window; at midnight, when the Cease Fire came officially into force, searchlights went mad all over the sky, rockets and flares went up, the ships started off again, and a group of youngsters danced and sang in the road.
Feeling rather out of it all, and wishing I were in London, I went to bed.

May 11th

Well, the party is all over, and we are back at work again. This phlegmatic nation let itself go for a while, slightly self-consciously, but none the less whole-heartedly. It all seems slightly absurd now, but at the time the spontaneous celebrations were great fun. Now, it doesn’t seem possible that only a week ago the war was in full tide, and it is really amazing how we have become adjusted to the change. I find that most people are thinking about the war against Japan; after all, a great proportion have, or will have, a personal interest in it. I am beginning to feel much more confident about it now. It is obvious that it is only a question of time – but that is the question! If only Russia would come in, that time could be reduced so much. Russia is the great query of the moment; I am wondering if she is going to use her participation in the Pacific war as a bargaining weapon – but for what? Not being a strategist or a diplomat, I feel rather bewildered by it all. We still have great events ahead of us.