Joyce Smith: Remembering VE Day
Joyce Smith (née Millard) was in the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force (WAAF) working as a VHF direction finding operator when the end of the war was finally announced. In 1995 the RAF Association published her memories of that momentous day in a VE Day Special.
“Tuesday, 8 May 1945. What a wonderful, glorious, absolutely stupendous day to celebrate the end of the war in Europe. June, Betty and I turned up for normal duty at the ‘tower’ (which housed the direction finding installation), but instead of getting the expected permission to ‘shut up shop – go and celebrate’, we were dumbfounded to be told that we had to stay on duty. The ops room at Biggin Hill was still being manned. God dammit! The war was over – this was a momentous day, history in the making – there was only one place to be and that was London. I was determined to get there and join in the celebrations.
“I asked to speak to someone in higher authority to plead our case, but they wouldn’t put me through. Who was likely to be roaming the wild blue yonder on this day of all days? Maybe a flypast or an exuberant pilot taking to the skies to do a victory roll? Couldn’t they jolly well find their own way home for once?! Hadn’t they often in good visibility found their way back to Biggin Hill by following that reliable landmark the railway track from Folkestone to Redhill, which ran straight as a ruler from Ashford? Turn right at the house with the green roof at Marl Pit Hill to Westerham and you can’t miss it!
A direction finding tower, similar to the one Joyce worked on.
Joyce Smith (née Millard).
“I wasn’t convinced that our presence on duty was of vital importance, and I was in the right frame of mind to be rebellious and ‘jump ship’. As I said to June and Betty, “What can they do to us if we go?” In civilian billets it wasn’t practical to confine us to camp or dish out ‘jankers’. At worst we might get a dishonourable discharge for disobeying orders and deserting our post – but that might be the best thing that could happen to us. All those who joined before us in 1942 were also due to be demobbed before us – and if we were chucked out we would jump the queue and get back to civvy street a lot sooner!
“June was quite willing to join in my plans; Betty would never do anything ‘naughty’ and said she would stay behind and hold the fort.
“We listened to Mr Churchill’s victory speech on the radio first, before making tracks for London and Piccadilly. Every tube station was disgorging masses of people and all inward buses were full. The tide of people flooding into the West End reached its peak during the afternoon, and Piccadilly was packed with a steady flow of celebrators releasing their pent up spirits in mad abandon, exploding with joviality.
“On VE Day in Trafalgar Square assembled the greatest crowd ever seen there. Everyone in the services got a handshake, embrace or a pat on the back, and we girls in uniform were greeted with hugs and kisses. Processions formed out of nowhere, people waving flags or whirling football rattles – anything that made a noise – all marching in step with linked arms or doing the ‘Lambeth Walk’.
“Buckingham Palace was one of the most popular destinations where enthusiastic crowds filled every surrounding street and from the forecourt of the Palace extended as far as the eye could see. Periodically they would chant “We want the King” and, in response, the Royal Family would come out on that famous balcony and loud cheers would echo all the way up the Mall to Admiralty Arch.
“Winston Churchill, the prime architect of the triumph we were celebrating, figured prominently in the day’s jubilation and spoke to the crowds from the balcony of the Ministry of Health in Whitehall. “This is your victory” he said, and the crowds roared back “No, it is yours!”. Churchill later joined the Royal Family on the balcony of Buckingham Palace, and when he appeared the spontaneous roar of welcome lasted for more than five minutes.
“It was so exhilarating to be part of such communal jubilation on that fabulous day. It was one of the most memorable days of my life and I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.
“When it began to get dark, bonfires were lit on the numerous bomb sites, stoked by the vast amount of wooden debris from demolished buildings, and the crowds, keeping the festive momentum going, began dancing around the firelight glow.
“June and I were on duty the next morning and we reckoned that the milk train at 03.20 would just about get us there in time. Tubes and buses had closed down and cars had been kept out of central London while ‘people power’ took over the streets. During my hitch-hiking expeditions in the WAAFs, I had always managed to get from A to B without getting stranded, but I began to wonder if I would come unstuck on this night. The only vehicle in sight was a Metropolitan Police ‘Black Maria’. On any other night I would not have had the gall to ask for a lift in a police vehicle, and on any other night the police would not have given me one! It was my first and only ride in a ‘Black Maria’.
“The train was absolutely jam-packed with revellers returning to Chelmsford and stations beyond. It was still dark when we got to Witham, so we laid ourselves down on two hard old station benches out in the open, just like a couple of vagrants! When it became light we started our eight-mile journey back to Tolleshunt D’ Arcy, longing to crash out on our ‘biscuits’ on the floor as soon as we got on duty. When we arrived at the tower, we were horrified at the ‘Marie Celeste’ scene as we opened the door – it must have been one hell of a party, with empty bottles strewn everywhere, half the ceiling was down and the place reeked of stale beer!
“June and I were able to chalk it up as an exciting and rebellious adventure that paid off – Biggin ops never knew we had scarpered to London!
Remembering VE Day: Frances Mulford
Like Joyce Smith, Frances Mulford was also in the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force during WW2, and her memories of VE Day were printed alongside Joyce’s in the RAF Association’s 1995 VE Day Special.
“We had known this was going to happen, and patiently awaited His Majesty’s 9.00pm broadcast to tell us that the European war was over and that the Germans had packed it in. Only a skeleton staff were on duty at Holme-on-Spalding Moor (76 Squadron), the rest of us were in a state of elation and anticipation. The Halifaxes were silent and we were planning festivities – food, drink and a free-for-all dance at the WAAF site. Just after the broadcast all the lights went on – I know it was still daylight but no matter. The runway and searchlights were always on for take-offs and landings, but this night every light was on, and no blackout curtains!
Front page of Air Force News, 8 May 1945.
RAF Association 50th anniversary VE Day issue.
“It was all a bit hilarious. I was dancing with an officer who asked me how long I had been an NCO. When I told him five years, he asked me “Why not take a commission”? My reply was to say “I am too happy being a Queen Bee in my own right, but for now I’ll be an officer – swap tunics!” I became a Pilot Officer, DFM, Rear Gunner, and he a Flight Sergeant B.E.M., Intelligence. Soon wing commanders became aircraftwomen as everyone changed tunics – what a sight!
“My dancing was interrupted by a phone call from Portsmouth. It was my husband, Ron, who always rang me when in dock. Ron was on landing crafts as a sub-lieutenant since D-Day and now on gun trials for the Far East. After our ‘lovey dovey’ we spoke of the future, with Ron saying that he didn’t think he would make it to the Far East (he didn’t). We knew we had much to think and to talk about.
“I did not go back to the dance, but sat on the steps of my hut and pondered. I’m sure I reflected on the events of the past few years; In 1937 my darling Mam, only 46, had died, the following year the boy I was engaged to, and had gone to school with, died of football injuries. I was really ‘in the pits’ and couldn’t handle it. In 1939 I joined the local Air Raid Precautions and, when war broke out, manned the telephone in our local pub (which coming from a family of teetotallers was not easy!)
Early in October, while shopping in the town, I found myself outside the WAAF recruiting office. I had no idea of what the women’s forces did or why I chose the WAAF. What a sight we must have been, no uniforms (only an armband) marching up and down the cobbled streets of Pitsmoor in Sheffield in three-inch high-heeled shoes. We were soon kitted out and posted; there were only five trades, and as I had sewn carpets for six years they thought I would make a good ‘fabric basher’, and so began my five years as a balloon operator.
“I naturally thought of what might be next after six years in uniform as I sat on the steps of my hut. I was always proud of my uniform and hardly ever wore civvies. I had learned to live each day as it came. I was a happily married woman yet my husband and I had only been together on five brief occasions, and as for being a housewife, I couldn’t boil an egg. Boy, would my Ron suffer!
“I remembered the sad times, too. I had seen the bombing of Sheffield and spent 18 months in London when the all clear went at 06.59 and the alarm at 07.01, with bombs and doodle-bugs the order of the day. I remembered the doodle-bug that exploded on a WAAF friend’s home, nearly wiping out her family and adding to the tragedy of her brother, an air gunner, missing over Germany. My heart went out to Mary; we had watched from the steps of No 20 Kensington Palace Gardens as fire swept London’s East End, her home. I remembered Tosh – we had grown up together – who was killed by a sniper crossing the Rhine, never seeing his soon-to-be-born-son, and another friend in the Navy who had both legs blown off but was able to laugh when cheating at cards.
“Six years of horror, and yet so wonderful in friendship, helping, giving and talking – being in uniform gave us carte blanche to talk to anybody (whilst remembering that ‘walls have ears’). Friends, life-long friends, both WAAF and RAF, I still have and letters make the years drop away. On that night fifty years ago I thought of all those who were watching all this from above, and today I recall those words of remembrance “They shall not grow old as we that are left grow old. Age shall not weary them nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember them.” I treasure the memories of the six years we had together.”
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