From apathy to celebration – how four people lived VE Day in 1945

The Guardian

08-05-2025

A fter nearly six years of hardship, people poured out on the streets in celebration 80 years ago as the second world war in Europe came to an end. However, for many who lost family and friends, the rejoicing was muted.
Here, four people recall their memories and those of their families.
Raymond Grace
Captain
In May 1940, five years before the end of the war, 29-year-old Capt Raymond Grace was captured outside Dunkirk after falling off a motorcycle into a drainage ditch. Raymond, born in May 1911 in Sevenoaks, Kent, joined the Buffs, the Royal East Kent regiment, and after his capture was held in four prisoner of war (PoW) camps in Germany. The last one he was in was Stalag VII-A in Moosburg, the largest PoW camp in the country. Raymond Grace's PoW record from Oflag VII-C in Laufen, Bavaria. Photograph: Chris Grace/Guardian Community
'The liberation of Moosburg was on 29 April 1945 but the time waiting to be repatriated seemed interminable,' said Raymond's son, Chris, who is the co-founder of Welsh television channel S4C and lives in Cardiff.
Chris recalls a story his father told him when Gen George S Patton, commander of the US third army, visited after the camp was liberated. 'Apparently Gen Patton said to them: 'You're free boys!' My father said the Americans had brought a doughnut truck and that he and other prisoners would queue for one and race around for another until they were violently ill.'
During his time as a prisoner of war, Raymond kept a detailed diary, including his experience on VE Day. A page from Raymond Grace's diary. Photograph: Chris Grace/Guardian Community Sunday 6 May
'Some brighter news was given out at 6.30pm when a US Colonel reported that evacuation was all laid on and only depended on the weather and number of planes available … Later [10pm] – 5,200 of us are to move off tomorrow at 5am!! Oh Boy! Monday 7 May
Tremendous activity over packing and pandemonium reigns. Hardly slept at all and made a brew of tea – the last in a PoW Camp? – at 3.15am …
At 4.45[pm] we were told that there was not much hope of us getting away tonight, only 70 out of 200 [planes] having turned up …
We hear that the bloody war is at last over, thank God for that. Tuesday 8 May
At 12.30[pm] got dressed and moved to our plane but as we were doing so, a machine taking off skidded, collided with 3 other planes and crashed finally into a 4th, before then catching fire! All passengers [Americans] got out safely and 2 of the crew [injured] but we didn't hear what happened to the other two.
Safely in the air at 2.50[pm] … Listened to theprime minister's speech at 3pm, using the plane commander's ear phones; am glad to have heard the historic statement that the armistice has been signed.
Finally down at 5.25[pm] on a big landing strip in the middle of nowhere [Reims] … We shambled off towards some tents and from the moment we arrived there, we were magnificently looked after by the US army. A hot meal – the best for five years – a drive of 10 miles for a bath, back for more food and finally to bed at 11.45[pm] on a camp bed in a big tent with only 10 in it. Wonderful organisation and no expense spared.' Raymond was reunited with his wife, Christine Grace, on 10 May 1945. Photograph: Chris Grace/Guardian Community
Two days later, on 10 May 1945, Raymond arrived in Bradfield St George in Suffolk. He was reunited with his wife, Christine, and met his five-year-old son Charles for the first time. Raymond died in 1982 aged 70.
Back in Britain, celebrations for the end of the war were under way with street parties, parades and people gathering at Buckingham Palace hoping to get a glimpse of King George VI and the royal family. 'VE Day was enjoyed with perhaps more noise than reason'
Kenneth Cohen
Commander and intelligence controller Kenneth Cohen's identity document. Photograph: Colin Cohen/Guardian Community
Cmdr Kenneth Cohen was one of those in the crowd. Born in March 1900, he was in the Royal Navy and joined the Secret Intelligence Service (MI6) in 1936-37. His son Colin, from Warwickshire, recalls how his father's work involved managing France's intelligence networks and liaising with Charles de Gaulle's Free French forces. By the end of the war Kenneth was a controller of western Europe (CWE) with his remit reaching as far as Czechoslovakia. On VE Day he received a message sent to all staff expressing the chief of secret service's (CSS) thanks and 'unbounded admiration' for their work. A message sent from the MI6's chief of secret service on VE Day in 1945. Photograph: Colin Cohen/Guardian Community
'He was incredibly modest,' said retiree Colin of his father who died in 1984. 'He always played down successes like providing a complete map of the Atlantic wall [the coastal defences used by the Nazis for most of occupied Europe].'
In an extract from Kenneth's unpublished memoir, he writes about joining the crowds on VE Day:
'VE day was enjoyed with perhaps more noise than reason. [Friends] were with me and Carol [Kenneth's daughter], Mary [his wife] remaining with Colin, aged 3 months. Eventually we ended up in the vast crowd outside the Palace. The King and Queen appeared on the balcony but the crowd wanted and shouted for 'Lizzie and Maggie'. Suddenly I noticed Diana Bowes-Lyon at my side, (my secretary and their first cousin). 'What about it?' I asked her. 'Well look harder', and there were the two princesses [in the crowd], with scarves about their heads, enjoying themselves and entirely unrecognised by their sardine-packed neighbours shouting for them at the Palace balcony.' 'There were so many people'
Joanna Burden
Modern foreign languages teacher
Another person outside the palace that day was Joanna Burden who was five-years-old at the time. Born in London in August 1940, her memory of VE Day is one of her earliest. Joanna, who worked as a modern foreign languages teacher and is now 84, remembers how she was scared of the large crowds at first.
'I was almost five. We lived in London but we lived in the suburbs. We travelled into the centre of London and we went to stand outside Buckingham Palace because my mum and dad wanted to see the king and queen.
'I got very frightened because there were so many people and I was only a little tiny thing. I was standing holding my mummy's and daddy's hand (I had a hand each) but there were all these people around me and I got really frightened because I thought I was going to be crushed.
'So my daddy picked me up and put me on his shoulders. That meant I was above the people so I didn't feel like that [any more] and I had such a lovely view of the thousands of people that were there. They were all singing, shouting and dancing in the street. When the royal family and Winston Churchill came on the balcony everybody cheered and it was really quite exciting.' Joanna Burden with her husband, Harry, who is 93. Photograph: Joel Burden/Guardian Community
Joanna's son Joel, 53, who works in publishing, said all credit should go to his daughter for interviewing her grandparents . 'She's now studying for her A-levels which includes one in history, unsurprisingly!'
However, the festivities were not felt by everybody. The allies had won the war but nearly 70 million people died as a direct consequence of the fighting with about two-thirds of them civilians. 'I have been extremely apathetic and only wanted to be with you'
Peter Willmott
Sergeant A letter Peter Willmott wrote to his wife, Blanche, on VE Day. Photograph: The Willmott family/Guardian Community
Sgt Peter Willmott, born in December 1915, was in the Royal Air Force (RAF). When he joined, it was discovered that he was colourblind and because of this he wasn't allowed to fly so served as ground crew, helping mend planes. Before the war he trained as a horticulturist and pursued a career in the field later in life. He was 74 when he died in 1990.
His family have a letter he sent to his wife, Blanche, on VE Day describing his 'apathy' to the celebrations. 'It shows that the dancing in the streets was not a universal reaction,' said his daughter Frances Watkins from Oxfordshire. Peter Willmott and his wife, Blanche, on their wedding day on 9 October 1943. Photograph: The Willmott family/Guardian Community
'My darling girl,
I have been very bad over letters I fear. I didn't write after I phoned you because the nearness of VE Day demoralised me and it was no use writing yesterday, because all postal services are cancelled until tonight.
When we got married darling the war seemed as if [it] would go on forever and now the part of it which most concerns us is over, tho [sic] the realisation just can't sink in all at once.
It came so gradually over the last two weeks that nobody here went wild at all. Work was cancelled yesterday at noon and the stand down lasts until tomorrow morning, but we have been strictly confined to a 20 mile radius. Several dances and picture shows have been put on, but the festive spirit was not apparent until late last night and even then was restrained. I have been extremely apathetic myself and only wanted to be with you …
I had thought of going to Bath today, but have scrubbed the idea. I don't want to push about in a milling crowd, I can celebrate more satisfactorily by spending the time quietly and contemplating …
This is not the sort of letter I thought I should write on VE Day, but then human nature is very capricious and things do not come as one imagines they will.
Cheerio for now angel and I'll be seeing you soon which is a wonderful thought.
All my love as ever. Your devoted husband. Peter'