I watched the film about Winston Churchill last evening on BBC1. I found it most interesting and it told me so much that I didn't know - I don't know how absolutely true it was to events (the incidence of the journey on the tube was a case in point) but although I was almost seven when the war started I remember the day it started and I remember Dunkirk (my brother was there) and after that I remember quite a lot. Parents were good in those days - they kept the very worst news away from me and I don't remember any sense of fear at all in those early days when the threat of invasion must have been so very real. They seemed to open up once it became evident that there was a real chance that we might be going to win.
Kippy, answering my yesterday's post, spoke of the noise the bombers must have made. That I do remember during the latter stages of the war - again once the tide had turned in our favour. Living, as we did, in the middle of one of the flattest counties in the country - Lincolnshire - we were surrounded by airfields and airfields mainly full of Lancaster bombers. When they took off nightly on their bombing raids they would pass over our house and my father would remark that they were probably going to Dresden or to Hamburg. The fact that they were going to drop bombs and actually kill people never crossed my childhood mind.
But now we have had the 75 celebration - and once we have had a similar celebration for the end
of the war with Japan in a few months time - maybe it is time we forgot it, put it to the back of our minds, remembering the many, many thousands who gave their lives but no longer reliving it. It is pointless saying hoping we learned the lesson that it really must never happen again - because clearly, judging by the many conflicts since that time, by the advance of sophisticated weaponry, by the continuing disregard for human life and dignity throughout the world such a hope is not on the agenda.