VE Day

Today, we celebrate VE Day. It’s 75 years ago to the day that hostilities in Europe came to an end and the streets of London and elsewhere around the world filled with happy people, rejoicing that six years of war had come to an end. Well, six years of war in Europe. There was still a year of it to go in the Pacific. And then a multitude of little wars around the world as the British Empire was wound down. But still, I digress. The ‘big one’, the war fought close to home, was over. 

I’ve noticed a distinct difference in how WW1 and WW2 are commemorated. The former is always  a sombre moment of remembrance and reflection. The latter is always a triumphalist affair, to be celebrated. It’s something that frequently spills into open xenophobia. I’ve noticed that persons in their 60s and 70s really seem to embrace this sort of spirit. They are quick to wave a Union Flag, quick to exhibit a misplaced sense of superiority and quick to repeat traditional insults against our European friends. You’ll frequently catch them chattering in a manner to suggest, falsely, that they were involved in the war. But they are ever so slow to pick up on the fact that the war was fought because of the sort of attitudes that too many in this age bracket display.

When I was born in 1972, the men and women who served in the war were just 45 years old or more and the war still reasonably fresh in the memory. I understand why VE Day was celebrated in ‘72. In 1995, the 50th anniversary of the end of the war, these folk were 68 years of age or more. There were plenty of them left and they could still drink, dance and make merry. They were worthy of a day of national celebration. 

I don’t really know why we would have a national day of celebration for VE Day in 2020. The number of WW2 survivors left is pitifully small, less than 0.5% of the population. I don’t begrudge them having a little party to celebrate what would have been a big day for them. But why exactly are the rest of us celebrating an event that we did not contribute to? It’s all a little unnecessary to my mind. Perhaps even a little unsavoury. It’s even less tasteful when you consider that these last few survivors, through neglect and careless policy, are currently being wiped out by a virus in care homes up and down the country.

I shan’t celebrate anything today. But I will remember. It’s important to remember. The war ended long ago and few of us alive today were alive back then. But most of us will have known someone who served or lived through the first half of the 1940s. The photo above is of my grandfather. Probably taken sometime in the late 1960s. My grandfather didn’t quite make it to 1995 to see the 50th anniversary of VE Day. He died 9 months earlier. My grandmother, on the other hand, made it all the way to 2009. It’s nice to remember them from time to time, to recall the world that they inherited and to thank them for leaving it in a better state when passing it on to us. Cheers.

Edit: Sometimes, I read a post back to myself a few hours later. And sometimes I wonder to myself, did I get the point across? Did I get the tone right? In this case, I feel that I did better at getting my point across than I did with the tone. Nevermind…