WWII in Europe ended 80 years ago. What an accomplishment. Millions dead and mass destruction on the most densely populated continent. Few vets left from that one. We can never thank all involved, impossible. Just remember and pray for them.
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VE DAY 80 YEARS AFTER
- Thread starter Rudi
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What a war, but the one in the pacific was really bad. The Japs didn't surrender most of the time....
robvious
Member
I always appreciated what that generation did for the world.. especially my uncle (WWII Army - Pacific) my father in law (WWII Navy - Pacific) mother in law worked at the bomber plant with her sister... many friends & neighbors growing up... all gone now.. R.I.P.
A couple weeks ago, I decided that I needed a 6" machinists ruler, so off to EBAY I went. I found a Millers Falls ruler, and on the back was scribed VE Day May 7, 1945 and the man's name. Probably some machinist who did this at work. The date is off a day. I figure that the news was out on the 7th, but officially declared on the 8th
LVSteve
Member
My family in the UK survived multiple near misses during air attacks. That was due to the skill of Britain's defenders, but also blind luck on occasion. Guess I wouldn't be here if they had not dodged the bullets and bombs. A sobering thought.
Ma’s short term memory is gone,but she still talks about the war. She was evacuated by herself at 7 and it ended when she was 13
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DR505
US Veteran
I am in Poland right now. Not much to celebrate for the Poles...WWII really didn't end for them until 1989.
My mom was 6 years old when the Germans bombed her family's home in Liverpool leaving them homeless for a bit.
VE Day was a monumental event for them.
VE Day was a monumental event for them.
I have a story from someone I know who was in Paris on VE Day.
During the '80's and '90's, we took a series of ten foreign exchange students who each lived with us for about eleven months and went to high school here. In 1993, my wife and I took a one month tour to visit them and their families, starting from Sweden, then south in a big arc through Europe to France.
Shortly before we left Paris for home, we were standing with Maude, the mother of one of our kids, at the wall at the Palais de Chaillot overlooking the Eiffel Tower. She was older than I, lived in Paris during WW2, and while we were standing there, she did some reminiscing about German occupied Paris. Earlier in the week, her parents, who were in the French Resistance, told us some amazing stories and showed us photos of the fighting and liberation of Paris.
While looking at this man-made wonder, Maude told us she remembered hundreds thousands of people in the streets on VE day, and saw an airplane fly under the Eiffel Tower. She told us there was a newspaper photographer on the tower mezzanine who snapped a picture for his paper, which appeared the next day.
After I was home and back to work, I ran into a woman I'd worked with off and on again over the years, but I hadn't seen for a while. She asked me where I'd been, and after I rattled off our itinerary ending with Paris, she sighed, "Oh, I've always wanted to see Paris." I opined that if you liked big cities, Paris was wonderful, but there were many other beautiful cities as well. I asked her "Why Paris?"
She told me she was Polish, that her parents fled Poland, just before the Nazis invaded in 1939, and made their way to England. There, her father joined the Polish Wing of the RAF, fought from the Battle of Britain all the way through the war, and at the end of the war, flew his plane under the Eiffel Tower in celebration. She said he got into big trouble because the newspaper published a picture of his plane taken from the Eiffel Tower mezzanine, with his buzz numbers plainly visible.
I can see why she wanted to see Paris and the Eiffel Tower.
It's a small world, isn't it?
And that's the rest of the story.
During the '80's and '90's, we took a series of ten foreign exchange students who each lived with us for about eleven months and went to high school here. In 1993, my wife and I took a one month tour to visit them and their families, starting from Sweden, then south in a big arc through Europe to France.
Shortly before we left Paris for home, we were standing with Maude, the mother of one of our kids, at the wall at the Palais de Chaillot overlooking the Eiffel Tower. She was older than I, lived in Paris during WW2, and while we were standing there, she did some reminiscing about German occupied Paris. Earlier in the week, her parents, who were in the French Resistance, told us some amazing stories and showed us photos of the fighting and liberation of Paris.
While looking at this man-made wonder, Maude told us she remembered hundreds thousands of people in the streets on VE day, and saw an airplane fly under the Eiffel Tower. She told us there was a newspaper photographer on the tower mezzanine who snapped a picture for his paper, which appeared the next day.
After I was home and back to work, I ran into a woman I'd worked with off and on again over the years, but I hadn't seen for a while. She asked me where I'd been, and after I rattled off our itinerary ending with Paris, she sighed, "Oh, I've always wanted to see Paris." I opined that if you liked big cities, Paris was wonderful, but there were many other beautiful cities as well. I asked her "Why Paris?"
She told me she was Polish, that her parents fled Poland, just before the Nazis invaded in 1939, and made their way to England. There, her father joined the Polish Wing of the RAF, fought from the Battle of Britain all the way through the war, and at the end of the war, flew his plane under the Eiffel Tower in celebration. She said he got into big trouble because the newspaper published a picture of his plane taken from the Eiffel Tower mezzanine, with his buzz numbers plainly visible.
I can see why she wanted to see Paris and the Eiffel Tower.
It's a small world, isn't it?
And that's the rest of the story.
Attachments
It was, but consider that the 8th Air Force lost more airmen over Europe than the Marine Corps lost in all the Pacific Island invasions. That's staggering.
What a trade-off. To have a bed, a hot meal, and short term leave in London, but your chances of surviving your TOD (25 missions in 1943) were slim, vs. a beach head landing, where you could be killed as well, but had a better chance of making it out alive, but with no creature comforts.
And all these Airmen and Marines were kids. Literally.
Mike LaNier
Member
I'm convinced the World War II vets were indeed the 'Greatest Generation". My stepfather was a SeaBee, fought the Japanese on Attu in the Aleutians; three uncles were in the Navy, one of whom (still alive at 101) did 17 crossings of the North Atlantic on a subchaser; and two uncles who fought in Europe, one with Patton and the other in the first wave at Normandy, survived the war but died of alchoholism due to PTSD (they called it 'Battle Fatigue' back then). Amazingly tough, resilient people, many who were scarred for life, but came home and got on with life anyway. I fly the flag for them in deep appreciation.
My dad never knew he was part of the Greatest Generation until he read it in Tom Brokaw's book in 1989.
I don’t think any of them saw themselves as anything special,they just got on with life
Dad served with the Army in the ETO from 44-47 including slugging through France and Germany with the Third Herd. He then switched branches to the newly formed USAF in '47. He retired from military active duty in '66.I don’t think any of them saw themselves as anything special,they just got on with life
He then made a good life for us.
He and mom both had every reason to harbor resentment towards the Axis combatants and their countrymen but they let it go and found peace.
The only time I could get dad to talk about his war experience was in snippets from a bar stool.
The man saw stuff.
my sister-in-law was from London, and just 4 when the Blitz happened. She recounted only a very little of the horror.
Some years ago, I befriended a gentleman who I later learned was in the 5th Army Air Corp as a belly gunner on a B-17 with the 97th Bombardment Group (Heavy).
He earned 53 mission credits, with 36 of these being what were classified as "double credit missions".
Occasionally, he would speak of his experiences, some in detail, most not so much. He was 88 when these talks first started and it was like watching this man go back in time..... one of the more horrific moments he recounted was watching one of his best friends plane break up due to flak and seeing him and the rest of that crew fall to their death.
It's no wonder so many veterans then and now have mental issues, with too many going unchecked.
In my case, I was born early May 1939 in the London suburbs. I still have vague memories of what must have been around early 1941 when my mother was taking me out to an "Anderson Shelter" in the back yard. Basically a metal sheet over a hole in the ground. My father at that time was helping to run an emergency port on the Clyde, then we were all in Liverpool a few weeks later when Dad was running another port operation, so an occasional bomb would fall. Mind you there was some humour in tales told me years later when Dad almost caused an internal war in L'pool docks when he told a gang of dockers to load a ship that had just come in. It turned out that he had told a "protestant work gang to load a catholic (Irish) ship". What was not known for a long time after WWII was that Ireland (read Eire) was the recipient of materials (food etc) from ships from Atlantic convoys to L'pool. Needless to say he was rescued by the Dock Police before he ended up in the River Mersey. Dave_n
I posted in another message how my dad was deferred from the war due to his being a diesel mechanic for a major trucking company which moved military goods. An interesting quirk of fate would happen some 40 years later, when my older brother married my English sister-in-law, whose father operated the largest trucking company in England, which also shipped largely military goods.
One never really knows if we're just a spoke, a hub, or a rim of a wheel. Hmmmm.....
This the bungalow that I was brought to after I was born. It had an Anderson shelter in the back..
My dad was Wehrmacht. Captured by the Americans near Metz in Oct. 1944. He was in a POW camp near Epernay France on VE Day.
About 15 years ago I was looking at Life Magazine archives on the internet and saw several pictures taken by Life war photographer Ralph Morse. This was the second to last one, German prisoners marching off to the POW camp. That's my dad holding his lapels on the front row. I was pretty certain it was my dad but my 80 year old cousin that lived with my dad's mother before and during the war said she was 100% certain it was my dad.
What are the odds?
About 15 years ago I was looking at Life Magazine archives on the internet and saw several pictures taken by Life war photographer Ralph Morse. This was the second to last one, German prisoners marching off to the POW camp. That's my dad holding his lapels on the front row. I was pretty certain it was my dad but my 80 year old cousin that lived with my dad's mother before and during the war said she was 100% certain it was my dad.
What are the odds?
