Subdued thankfulness - How the Stratford Herald reported VE Day in 1945
AT six on Monday evening we felt sure it would not be; at nine we knew it was.
The great occasion for which hearts had been hungering this many a year, the defeat of the vilest enemy that had ever raised its gorgon head against the beauties of life, was at hand. Expectation was succeeded by realisation. Within an hour streets were transformed. Flags, banners, streamers, punting that had greeted the Coronation of our King fluttered in the gentle breeze, indicative of hearts uplifted and of spirits soaring.
A mood of subdued thankfulness pervaded all. Liberty had triumphed (but at what a cost), freedom was victorious (yet the struggle had been hard), those who would have enslaved the world were shackled, while the prison camps were emptied of those whose only fault was a passion for the right.
Stratford celebrations were modest and obviously spontaneous. Flags representing the four great Allies – Great Britain, USA, Russia and China brightened the aspect of Bridge Street, and there they will remain until Sunday is past. (Yes, we know that one about the rain, and, of course, it did).
From the town hall, the theatre, a hundred shops and offices, from ever so many private houses, flags of sorts appeared.
Great William Street did itself proud and Summer Row was not lagging; the Picture House almost hid itself in bunting and the police station flew the Greek flag as its second emblem. Humour burst into action when some wag managed to hang out the washing on the Siegfried Line, temporarily transferred to Guild Street. Colour schemes were mixed, but the intention was not obscure. No plans had been prepared for the great occasion, and so each was left to follow his own devices.
Churches were filled for the services held on Tuesday evening following the Prime Minister’s official declaration. But so many went to Holy Trinity Church at noon that a preliminary service was held then. The bells sounded forth with merry acclaim as though saying, ‘What about that invader we were to warn you of? Where is he now?’
Ringers pulled with zest, glad of their tumultuous share in these celebrations. The town council met as appointed and after passing an appropriate resolution without comment, scampered through its formal business almost without challenge. Thereafter the mayor, aldermen, councillors and chief officials, plus a quartette representing the general public, toasted the King and HM Forces. The magistrates’ court sat as usual on Wednesday, for the law never slumbers.
Shops were closed for a couple of days, but assistants came back for an hour or two so that the unprovisioned should not go hungry. At the baker’s a scribbled notice said that you could get bread up the entry at the bakehouse door. The public library was closed for a couple of days, re-opening on the morning of the day when only evening papers were published. Industry rested, officialdom was in suspense. Transport was busy, more coming to Stratford than leaving it. Cycles accumulated beyond the capacity to store them at the station.
Banks offered limited service; canteens did a roaring trade. At the Unicorn it was a case of help yourself and keep your money. Beer flowed in frothy plenitude.
