VE Day

Ann Tiffany was born in Mansfield Street, York, and now lives in Canada...

WE were on our way to bed when we heard a noise outside. We ran out to find that one of our neighbours had lit a bonfire in the street and was dancing around it shouting, "It's over, it's over."

The war that had defined our lives for so long was over.

As children of war we had grown used to it in a strange way. We accepted the fact that dad had been away from us for six years, that he was fighting in this amorphous thing called war.

We had been deprived of a normal childhood: instead we had one that was wracked with air raid sirens and bombs falling on ourselves and on the other cities such as London, Liverpool and Plymouth. We had faced food shortages and rationing and suddenly it was over.

The next night was different, we were finally realising that we were at peace again. Not a full peace, there remained the Japanese armies to beat, but enough of a peace that we begin to feel a sense of freedom.

The most obvious thing to us was the freedom of movement especially after dark. To our amazement, the streetlights came on again and people were getting rid of the hateful dark blackout curtains.

A group of us young people set out into this new, bright world. We wandered up small streets and down broad avenues and peered along murky alleyways, it was magical.

Hundreds of us assembled in Exhibition Square in the centre of York. All there for a common purpose, that of celebrating the end of the war. We sang and danced and anyone, man or woman in uniform, was an instant hero, they had saved us by their sacrifice. We linked arms and sang the Lambeth Walk and formed a conga line, there was laughter, and singing.

We were a people who had come through a terrible time and were now free.

Vic Naylor, of Fossway, Stamford Bridge, was a sergeant in 8 Corps Signals...

IN the closing days of the war in Europe we and the Americans were anxious to preserve the network of trunk telephone cables.

I was in charge of a line detachment of 8 Corps Signals.

At the start of May we were told to go to Kiel in northern Germany, find the repeater station and occupy it to prevent any sabotage and supervise its working. A repeater station was a place where trunk cables came in, the signal was boosted and sent on its way, thus making it possible for a conversation or teleprinter message to be sent over long distances.

The Kiel station was important because the cables into Denmark, Norway and Sweden passed through it.

In Kiel we were taken to a building serving as the police station (the real station had been bombed). As we waited for a guide, the normal police work went on. The door opened; two constables entered and marched up to the table, gave the Heil Hitler salute, did a smart about turn, and saw us.

The looks on their faces nearly made the five years I had in worthwhile. Jaw-dropping amazement.

Our guide took us to a battered building where the leaders of the city waited.

The police chief told us the repeater station had been destroyed by bombs. On the table was a police telephone but, he said, "The only other people we can get on this are the English at Lubeck".

"Give it to me," said the officer. Our second lieutenant was surprised to find himself talking to the chief signal officer.

He put the phone down, turned to the police chief and said: "We shall be back in the morning."

On our way back to our unit he told me why our plans had changed.

"No surrender has yet been signed. Until it is we are not supposed to go beyond the point we reached at the time of the truce. I suppose if Gerry had had any fight left in him we could have started the bloody war going again!"

When the surrender was signed, German-speaking staff found the repeater station.

On VE Day our second in charge, Capt Callum, brought a couple of bottles of wine and we drank a toast to victory.

One of the German staff was a man called Hansen, who spoke a little English. When Captain Callum had gone he said to me: "Now that it is over shall we not join together and fight the Russians?"

What a thought!

Vera Relton, of Winchester Grove, York, was a teenager enjoying the party...

I HAVE always lived on Poppleton Road, so well remember the Blitz, the sadness of losing friends, the school being bombed with a direct hit and having to be educated at Scarcroft School... and much more.

At last it all came to an end, not before losing my eldest brother who flew in bombers, their plane being shot down in the cold North Sea on March 7, 1945, so near the end of the war and never to be heard of again.

I was 15 when war ended and very much wanted to join in all the fun of VE night, promising my mother I was setting off into York to see the celebrations with an older girl and wouldn't be late home.

It was just all so wonderful to see the crowds and the wonder of seeing everywhere lit up at last, more so after five years of blackout.

We finished up in Parliament Street right outside Radio Relay who relayed dance music for all to dance to.

The jive was the dance of the day. I couldn't dance well, but was happy to see others do it.

Most were young servicemen who grabbed a girl and found non-stop energy.

I could say I learned to dance on May 8, VE night - and what a night.

Updated: 08:53 Monday, May 09, 2005