Eighty years ago, one of the most devastating conflicts in human history came to a close after six harrowing years. World War II resulted in an estimated 70 to 85 million casualties, both military and civilian, accounting for about 3 percent of the global population at the time. On May 8, 1945, Nazi Germany officially surrendered, marking the end of the war in Europe.
This momentous event triggered widespread celebrations across the UK and Europe, as people sang, danced, and filled the streets with parties. They were finally able to reclaim their lives from the shadow of war. However, are we as a society slowly beginning to forget the gravity of this war, how many young lives died so we could have freedom today?
The thought struck my mind on this year’s 80th anniversary of VE Day, when street party leaflets were sent around our neighbourhood, hoping to celebrate and remember together. We did the same for the 75th anniversary where the turnout was spectacular. Everyone in our street came out with food, drinks and 40s music filled the air.
It was noticeable that even people who weren’t acquainted, laughed and had fun together, honouring the past. Sadly, this year’s celebrations would hardly compare to that of five years ago. The street was relatively empty and quiet, with barely a handful of us taking part in the celebrations.
I found this difference astounding and disappointing. Eighty years on and people now seem to treat it as a vague and distant memory. With war seemingly surrounding us at this point in time we, should be remembering the victories against oppression, learning from past mistakes and paying respect and homage to those who gave aid and lost their lives.
Part of the reason I feel so connected to this story is truly all because of my Nan, Val Southall. She’s stunningly 96 years old and still the fierce and funnily stubborn woman I grew up knowing and loving. She was a young teen during the years of WW2, being around 11 years old when Britain declared war on Germany and 16 when it all finished.
Throughout my childhood and teenage life, I’ve been thrilled by hilarious and powerful stories from her days on a farm during wartime. Whether it’s a new story told or one I’ve heard over 50 times, it’s always a joy and fascination listening to my Nan recount her childhood tales. I feel deeply honoured that I indeed get to hear these precious memories.
Not only do they connect my Nan and me, but they link me to a different time. Often the war feels so far away, but hearing my Nan’s stories adds reality and understanding of how impactful the war was. I can’t even imagine living through a world war at 19 years old, let alone at 11 like my Nan.
Whether they were soldiers, doctors, civilians, no matter their age, the people fought tooth and nail for our freedom, and that generation can, and should inspire this one. My Nan lived on Gelli-ber Farm in Castleton (not far from Cardiff ) with her mum, dad and older brother Derek where even as children, Nan and Derek were expected to carry out farmhand duties! As I said, she shared countless exciting and heartwarming stories about her time on the farm and her experiences of living through air raids and working alongside German and Italian prisoners of war.
One of the most memorable stories involved a German prisoner who had been a tailor back home. After completing his farm work and getting permission from the camp, he would come into the farmhouse and use the sewing machine to make clothes out of any material Derek and his friend found at the docks. My Nan clearly remembers that he made two skirts and a jacket for her mum and a dress for herself, saying that the clothes never seemed to age or become worn, each day appearing brand new.
I find this story beautiful as, despite the war and conflict, commonality was found. Another story that always made my Nan and me laugh was when they had an Italian prisoner of war working on the farm. He would tell my Nan his stories of being a part of the mafia and how he would ride on a white horse.
Unfortunately, he received serious injuries in a farm accident when my Nan attempted to show him how to use some farming machinery which his hand got caught in. These stories are just a glimpse of the life my Nan had on the farm during the war. I wish I could tell them all, but there just wouldn’t be enough paper!
Her stories always make me realise how we must remember what happened in World War II. It’s not just something that happened in the past; it changed the course of the world. They said World War I was the war to end all wars, yet look what happened.
Even today, there seems to be increasing risk of a World War III with numerous world-wide conflicts currently in place. Despite differences, it is vital this generation looks to the old for guidance and to honour them. I want to thank my Nan for telling me her memories and tales.
They never fail to entertain, but more importantly, they inspire me.