A palpable sense of anticipation, a collective breath held for what felt like an eternity, finally found its release.
Though the whispers had grown to insistent murmurs and the official word was all but certain, the eventual confirmation of peace in Europe still crashed like a joyous, thundering wave across the nation.
The Echo captured the monumental moment with a headline that would be etched in memory: on Monday, May 7, 1945, its front page declared with stark, beautiful simplicity, “Hostilities in Europe Are At An End.”
The news itself was the culmination of an agonising wait: Germany, broken and defeated, had signed an unconditional surrender.
In response, the government, understanding the profound need for a collective exhalation of relief and celebration, declared the following day, Tuesday, as VE Day.
It was to be a precious, albeit brief, interlude for a populace weary to its bones, a chance to rejoice and embrace the light after nearly six long, arduous years spent under the shadow of conflict.
VE Day party at Christchurch Junior School. Submitted by Mrs Budden.
The Echo painted a vivid picture of the preceding hours: “The air was full of expectancy in Bournemouth, Poole, Christchurch and surrounding towns this morning. Keyed-up by radio and press statements, the public expected the Prime Minister’s announcement of the end of hostilities in Europe to come at any moment.”
Ears were glued to crackling wireless sets, hearts were thumping in unison, and every shared glance carryed a potent mix of hope and trepidation.
Life, even in these final moments of waiting, had to go on, yet it was tinged with the unique flavour of imminent liberation.
“Housewives were busy laying in stocks of bread, vegetables and tinned foods to feed the family while the shops are closed for the VE holiday.”
The unsung heroines of the home front found themselves filled with a renewed vigour, determined that this celebration, so dearly bought, would be marked with as much feasting as rationed supplies would allow.
Simultaneously, a patriotic fervour was visibly transforming the streetscape.
VE Day party in Chilcombe Road, Southbourne. Submitted by Mrs H Snow.
“In business premises and in front gardens, last-minute touches were being applied to flagpoles and other fittings on which decorations were to be hung,” the paper reported, hinting at the colourful bunting and triumphant flags soon to flutter in the May breeze.
The simple switching on of streetlights, a mundane occurrence in peacetime, was a powerful symbol of emergence from the long, dark night of blackout and fear.
For a generation that had grown up during the grim realities of a war-torn England, the true meaning of peacetime was an abstract concept. Yet the joy on their faces told the story that the great nightmare was over, and now was the time to celebrate.
The population already knew that Tuesday would be ‘The Day’ so preparations were well advanced for the many street parties held all over the country on VE Day itself.”
These gatherings, imbued with a spirit of community and shared relief, were particularly focused on the youngest members of society.
“These were mainly aimed at being for the children. Typically large trestle tables, all groaning with food, were set up down the middle of residential roads, with bunting displayed. Where possible and available it was stretched across the road from one side to the other.
VE Day celebrations in Bournemouth at night. Submitted by John Cresswell.
The offerings were down to careful planning in a time of scarcity. Cakes, jellies and more were available for the kids, but the nation was still being severely rationed, so an amount of hoarding in preparation had taken place.
Some of these celebrations were grand affairs, such as the one at Wallisdown, which catered to more than 1,000 children, a sea of excited young faces eager for a taste of joy and sweetness.
Yet, during the swelling euphoria, the solemn voice of Prime Minister Winston Churchill interjected a note of caution, reminding the nation that the period of rejoicing, however cathartic, should be brief.
The war against Japan still raged in the Far East, a stark reality that tempered the full flight of celebration.
Even so, the pent-up emotions of years of strife could not be entirely contained.
From Monday evening until well into Tuesday, Bournemouth let itself go in celebrating; Monday night, May 7, had become pre-VE Day.
A VE Day party in Arthur Road, Christchurch. Submitted by Mr M J Sclater.
As VE Day dawned, the official commemorations began.
The Mayor of Bournemouth, Cllr Harry Brown, performed a symbolic act of hope and renewal by planting a commemorative tree near the War Memorial.
The very air throbbed with music as bands played with gusto in Meyrick Park and Kings Park.
The resonant speeches of the Prime Minister and His Majesty the King were relayed through loudspeakers from the cricket pavilions, their words washing over appreciative crowds.
As dusk settled, the night sky itself erupted in celebration, with fireworks bursting in dazzling displays, their crackles and flashes mirroring the fizzing excitement in the streets below.
Winston Churchill’s broadcast words resonated deeply: “God bless you all. This is your victory. It is the victory of the cause of freedom in every land. In all our long history we have never seen a greater day than this. Everyone, man or woman, has done their best. Everyone has tried. Neither the long years, nor the dangers, nor the fierce attacks of the enemy, have in any way weakened the independent resolve of the British nation. God bless you all.”
VE Day street party in Pine Road, Winton. Submitted by Alan Mullins.
The Echo vividly described Bournemouth Square that evening as transforming into “a miniature Trafalgar Square or Piccadilly Circus,” a swirling vortex of humanity, laughing, singing, and embracing in a shared moment of overwhelming relief.
A particularly poignant symbol of this return to normalcy was the fountain in front of Bournemouth’s Pavilion. Its waters, stilled since the outbreak of war, were switched on, cascading and sparkling once more, as if washing away the grime and sorrow of the preceding years.
After soaking in this spectacle of renewed life, the jubilant crowds, still buzzing with energy, made their way to the Norfolk Hotel.
There, the celebrations continued with unbridled enthusiasm, more singing, more dancing.
Couples, shedding the anxieties of wartime, were seen doing the foxtrot on Richmond Hill, swaying to music drifting from the hotel steps – a picture of spontaneous, carefree joy.
The Royal Canadian Air Force, responsible for organising Bomber Command training in Bournemouth throughout the war, held a Gala Dance at the mess hall they ran at the former Indoor Bowling Green – later the former Winter Gardens – with free buffet and beer. It was a gesture of camaraderie and a well-deserved moment of release for those who had served.
In nearby Poole, the celebrations took on a more fiery, cathartic character. A great bonfire was constructed at Fisherman’s Dock, and into its hungry flames were cast effigies of Hitler and Goering, a symbolic purging of the tyrants who had wrought so much destruction.
The spirit of gratitude and reflection extended into the following Sunday. A grand parade saw servicemen and women from the armed forces, alongside members of the Civil Defence, the Home Guard, and various youth organisations, march proudly through Bournemouth.
Their destination was Meyrick Park, where a solemn victory service was held.
The mayor encapsulated the sentiment of the day, stating, “Today we have had the opportunity of joining together in public to give thanks to God for the deliverance of our country from the bondage of warfare.”
The service was attended by more than 20,000 people and was described as “one of the greatest, if not the greatest, parades ever seen in the town.”