EXCLUSIVE 'It was all men. It got a bit boisterous': Britain's oldest female WWII veteran, 107, reveals how war ravaged nation celebrated VE Day
With a mixture of pride and sombre memories of wartime sacrifice, Britain's oldest surviving Second World War servicewoman today commemorates the 80th anniversary of VE Day.
Joan Harrison, 107, is deaf and nearly blind, yet she clearly recalls the moment that the war came to an end, as she sat at the wheel of her Auxiliary Territorial Service ambulance.
Newcastle-born Joan Brown, as she was then, had volunteered for war work at the outbreak of hostilities and quickly picked up the nickname, 'Brownie'.
As news of Victory in Europe broke in the early evening, a serviceman came rushing towards the 22-year-old to tell her of the momentous good news.
She recalled: 'Everything was still. Then, all of a sudden, he came running down the concrete path to the ambulance and said, "Brownie! The war is over!"
'I said he must be kidding. And he said, "No, the war's over!"
'I jumped out - I don't think I even locked it, which was a crime, and ran with him to the NAAFI [Navy, Army and Air Force Institutes] where everyone was gathering.
'Hats were flying in the air. It was all men. It got a bit boisterous, and some officers came down and called "order".
'The men calmed down. The officers were saying, you're still in the Army, you know, get to your beds. But they couldn't do much about the sheer joy of the moment.'
Born in Portsmouth, Joan moved with her parents to Hong Kong at age 13.
Her father, a Royal Navy admiralty engineer overseer, managed the harbour there.
His work then took them north to Newcastle-upon-Tyne.
When war broke out, Joan joined up with the women's regiment, the Auxiliary Territorial Service (ATS), initially spending two years in civil defence before being sent to Camberley, in North-West Surrey.
There, she trained for 18 months to become an ambulance driver and driving instructor for the ATS, including maintaining the vehicles, a role that would place her at the heart of the war effort.
'It was heavy work. We didn't have a choice. We had to be drivers because the men were needed elsewhere,' she added.
At one point they were stationed in barracks in Edinburgh that were deemed unsuitable for the men because of the terrible conditions.
She recalls: 'It was so awful, cold, wet and horrible. We slept in our great coats.'
Joan is proud to have driven ATS ambulances, just like the late Queen Elizabeth.
Reflecting on this period, Joan considers her time in the army as 'the best time of her life.'
She was later stationed at Boyce Barracks, in Aldershot, a training centre for the Royal Army Medical Corps and it was there that she met Charlie Harrison, the man who would become her husband.
After the war, they settled in the Midlands and although they tried to start a family, they were never able to have children. Instead, they formed a close bond with their nephew.
Joan's vivid recollections of her time in the ATS have been recorded by two charities - the Women's Royal Army Corps Association and Legasee.
The latter helps the public understand the impact of military activity and preserving the stories of veterans.
Joan is confirmed as being four months older than Ena Collymore-Woodstock, OD, MBE, who is also 107 and lives in Barbados.
The Jamaican was previously thought to be the oldest surviving female army veteran.
Now residing at Posandane Nursing Home, near Penzance, in Cornwall, Joan, like all ATS women, was later supported by the ATS Old Comrades Association, which evolved into the WRAC Association.
This servicewomen's charity continues to provide invaluable camaraderie and sisterhood to Joan and her fellow veterans to this day.
Paula Rogers, CEO of the WRAC Association, said: 'It was wonderful to be invited to meet Joan and hear her wartime stories.
We are privileged to count many ATS veterans within our Association, alongside women of all ages who have or are currently serving in any of His Majesty's Armed Forces.
'As we remember the sacrifices made during two world wars, other conflicts and in peacekeeping, we are hugely proud of the contribution women made to bringing about the end of WWII.'
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
The Guardian
4 hours ago
- The Guardian
There's an invader turning huge swathes of Britain into deserts – and these dead zones are spreading
Deserts are spreading across great tracts of Britain, yet few people seem to have noticed, and fewer still appear to care. It is one of those astonishing situations I keep encountering: in which vast, systemic problems – in this case, I believe, covering thousands of square kilometres – hide in plain sight. I realise that many people, on reading that first sentence, will suspect I've finally flipped. Where, pray, are those rolling sand dunes or sere stony wastes? But there are many kinds of desert, and not all of them are dry. In fact, those spreading across Britain are clustered in the wettest places. Yet they harbour fewer species than some dry deserts do, and are just as hostile to humans. Another useful term is terrestrial dead zones. What I'm talking about are the places now dominated by a single plant species, called Molinia caerulea or purple moor-grass. Over the past 50 years, it has swarmed across vast upland areas: in much of Wales, on Dartmoor, Exmoor, in the Pennines, Peak District, North York Moors, Yorkshire Dales and many parts of Scotland. Molinia wastes are dismal places, grey-brown for much of the year, in which only the wind moves. As I know from bitter experience, you can explore them all day and see scarcely a bird or even an insect. Not that you would wish to walk there. The grass forms high tussocks through which it is almost impossible to push. As it happens, most of the places that have succumbed to Molinia monoculture are 'access land'. Much of the pittance of England and Wales in which we are allowed to walk freely has become inaccessible. In a great victory a fortnight ago, the supreme court ruled that we have a right to wild camp on Dartmoor. But on many parts of the moor, you wouldn't want to exercise it. As soon as the grass takes hold, all opportunities for enjoyment and employment cease. Molinia challenges the definition of an invasive species. The term is supposed to refer only to non-native organisms. But while it has always been part of our upland flora, it appears to have spread further and faster than any introduced plant in the UK, and with greater ecological consequences. It is uncontrolled by herbivores, disease or natural successional processes (transitions to other plant communities). In fact, it stops these processes in their tracks. Given the scale of the problem, it is remarkably little studied and discussed. I cannot find even a reliable estimate of the area affected: the most recent in England is nearly 10 years old, and I can discover none for Wales or Scotland. But in the southern Cambrian Mountains alone, judging by a combination of my walks and satellite imagery, there appears to be a dead zone covering roughly 300 sq km, in which little but this one species grows. Most of central Dartmoor is now Molinia desert, and just as disheartening and hard to traverse. Why is this happening? It seems to be a combination of forces. One is 'headage payments': subsidies that were issued in the second half of the 20th century, which paid farmers for the number of animals they kept. They created an incentive to cram the land with as many sheep and cattle as possible. This, in combination with burning moorland to produce fresh shoots for the livestock to eat, seems in some places to have pushed ecosystems beyond their tipping points. Even, as in parts of the Cambrians, where there have been no sheep grazing for 40 years, as there's nothing left to eat (sheep will scarcely touch Molinia), there has been no recovery. Another likely factor is nitrogen deposition. Nitrogen compounds rain down on Britain's habitats at a rate of roughly 29kg per hectare per year. They are produced by livestock farming, traffic and industry. Drainage (largely for farming) also appears to accelerate the spread: Molinia thrives as peat dries out. The Dartmoor ecologist and nature campaigner Tony Whitehead tells me that the degradation of peat caused by drainage, excavation, burning and grazing pressure is likely to be the primary accelerant. Burning in particular – carried out by sheep farmers on Dartmoor and Exmoor and by grouse shoots on northern English moors and in Scotland – favours the plant. While other species are destroyed, Molinia is protected by its deep roots and tussocks, which guard its buds. Various solutions are proposed, but few are satisfactory. One approach is to blast the grass with the herbicide glyphosate. It works for a while, but leaves an even grimmer waste, likely to be colonised again by Molinia. Others propose yet more burning, and/or grazing with cattle or ponies: temporary 'solutions' that look like blood-letting to cure anaemia. Whitehead has watched what happens: the animals graze around the edges of the Molinia, eating only small amounts, while continuing to knock back other plant species. After early summer, they won't touch the stuff, as its nutritional value declines steeply. A new report by the government agency Natural England states that livestock grazing is not required to protect the main habitat type – blanket mire – that Molinia threatens. Rewetting the land, by blocking drains and building bunds and perhaps, as one team is attempting, planting clumps of sphagnum moss among the grass, in order to restore the peat, seems to be the only means of reviving blanket mire. It also makes the land less prone to fire. In other places, we should be encouraging the return of trees, through planting and excluding livestock. Most of the areas overtaken by Molinia have a temperature and moisture range that would favour temperate rainforest: a vanishingly rare, rich and complex habitat. As the trees mature, they should shade out the grass. In some wet areas, I'd like to see the return of water-tolerant species such as alder, downy birch and willow, to restore upland carr, another rich and scarce habitat. But anyone who wants to rewild upland ecosystems hits a wall of vested interests – mostly sheep farmers and grouse moor owners – who, like the commercial fishing sector, insist on doing the wrong thing until it destroys their own industry. Where is the urgent government programme? Where is there even official acknowledgment that we have a problem? To fix something, first you must see it. George Monbiot is a Guardian columnist
Daily Mail
6 hours ago
- Daily Mail
Boss sparks fury over shocking response after employee's child injured himself in school
An employee was taken aback by her boss' response when she asked to work from home after her child was injured at school. The employee received a call from teachers asking if her child can be picked up and taken home following a fall. When explaining the situation to her boss, he asked if anyone else can take care of the child so she can return to the office and attend a meeting. The response shocked thousands online who dubbed the request as 'unreasonable'. British career expert Ben Askins was sent the text messages and read out the conversation in a now-viral TikTok video. He too appalled by the lack of empathy the boss had towards the worker. 'Hey, I've just had a call from Jamie's school. He's had a fall and they've asked me to pick him up,' the employee messaged over What's App. Rather than asking if the child is alright, the boss replied bluntly: 'Right, how long are you going to be?' The employee responded: 'Not sure yet. They said he's a bit bruised and shaken so I'm going to take him home. I'lll have to work the rest of the day from home if that's okay.' 'Can no one else pick him up? This is meant to be an office day,' the boss wrote back. In the video, Ben chimed in adding his own opinion on the matter and described it as 'absolutely wild' how the boss hasn't asked if the child is okay. The employee explained how no one else is available to pick him up from school and take him home. But all the boss could think about was the meeting scheduled later in the day. 'I've got my laptop and can log on from home once he's settled if that helps,' the worker wrote. 'Not really the same though is it,' the boss responded. 'I get that, but I can still be online and available. I just can't leave him on his own,' the worker replied. The boss allowed the employee to work from home that day - but only on one condition. 'I will let you go, but please don't tell anyone. I don't want people thinking this is an option for everyone,' the boss said. 'Okay, understood, thank you,' the worker responded. Ben was shocked by the conversation and the boss' behaviour as there's some things that should become before work - an injured or sick child is one of them. 'The only response is: "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Yes, of course. If you can log on later, amazing. But honestly, don't worry, make sure he's okay". That's all he had to do there and he absolutely bodged it,' Ben said. The video has since exceeded more than 364,000 views and TikTokers agreed with Ben. 'That response is something else! Definitely not the kind of leadership anyone should deal with,' one wrote. 'That's an unbelievable response! It s hard to imagine how someone could act like that in a professional setting,' another wrote. 'Umm I would have responded with 'I'm not asking permission to go take care of my son. I'm telling you I'm leaving,' a third chimed in. 'Anyone else feels like workplaces are going backwards rather than forwards?' another asked
The Guardian
2 days ago
- The Guardian
‘A wonderful mystery to be solved': Search begins in Dorset for ‘the Mother of all tanks'
At the height of the second world war, while British authorities were calling on citizens to donate metal to be recycled into weapons and warships, attention at the army base of Bovington Camp in Dorset turned to a collection of historic vehicles dating from the first war – among them a legendary tank that had been nicknamed 'Mother'. Mother was the prototype for the world's first battlefield tank, the Mark 1, which had been developed by Britain in 1915-6 to break the deadlock of the trenches. The vehicles were a huge technological leap forward that caused a sensation when rolled out on the battlefields ('astonishing our soldiers no less than they frightened the enemy', as the Manchester Guardian put it) and helped tip the scales in favour of the allies' eventual victory. Mother was a unique and hugely important piece of military and technological history. But with people across Britain donating their railings, saucepans and even keys for the war effort, there was no room for sentiment. Mother was surrendered to the scrappers to be melted down and recycled. Or was she? For decades, rumours persisted at Bovington Camp that to save it from being scrapped, 'the Mother of all tanks' had instead been secretly buried somewhere in the military base. Now, an army officer is planning an archaeological survey to search for the mythical tank after finding a historical letter that suggests the rumours are true. Staff Sgt Anthony Sherritt, a tank commander with the Royal Armoured Corps, came across the mystery of what happened to Mother several years ago when listening to a podcast; intrigued by the rumours, he began scouring military records in his free time for evidence of what really happened. He traced the source of the rumours to a former foreman at the British army's Tank Museum, which is based at Bovington Camp, who would frequently tell visitors that his father had been part of the team that hid the prototype. But still, there was no proof. Then, last summer, Sherritt came across a letter written by an officer called Lt Col NM Dillon about the wartime activities of a friend who had been based at Bovington, Maj Bill Brannon. One day, wrote Dillon, Brannon had 'found the scrap metal staff beginning to demolish some of the old tanks'. After waiting for the scrappers to stop at midday for lunch, 'Bill organised a towing tank and pulled four of the oldest tanks and buried them in the driving area. These four included Mother.' It was a eureka moment for Sherrett, who called a small group of fellow enthusiasts, buzzing with the news. 'I was super-excited, calling everyone – [saying] 'Look, I found this,'' he says. 'And they couldn't believe it.' Burying a tank in your lunch break may seem no small feat, but the expansive driver training area would have been full of enormous pre-dug holes, says Sherritt, to allow trainees to practice driving the vehicles in rough terrain. But even if Mother was buried, the next challenge is finding her. Bovington Camp stretches to 404 hectares (1,000 acres), and even the section Sherrett has identified as the wartime training area, not in the same spot as today, is enormous. 'It's a kilometre squared, and that's a huge piece of land,' Sherrett says. Now a patch of restricted heathland, it's not as if he can just wander around with a metal detector. 'It was used for driver training for 100 years so it's covered in metal. Back in the day, they probably didn't really care about any environmental issues and were just littering everywhere' – potentially including unexploded ammunition. Undeterred, Sherrett has spent a year petitioning defence authorities to be allowed survey the area; with that permission secured, he is crowdfunding to commission archaeologists to start the search later this autumn. Lidar (light detection and ranging) scans have already identified five spots that hint at a large object buried underground. According to Chris Price, the director of the Tank Museum, finding Mother 'would be a mic drop moment in the tank world. Jaws hitting the floors everywhere. 'There's every possibility that it won't be found – but it would be a wonderful thing to find, a wonderful mystery to be solved and given to everyone around the world.' 'It would be insane,' agrees Sherrett. 'Because it's not just a tank. It's everything else that she [led] to, the machine that broke the stalemate in world war one. There were no [battlefield] tanks before her. 'I joke with the Tank Museum all the time, saying 'You'll have to make space to put her in there,' because currently, all they have for her is a drawing.'
