Eighty years ago, on May 8th 1945, the formal acceptance of Germany’s unconditional surrender in WW2 brought an end to the war in Europe.

There will be plenty of posts today about this special occasion. And there were many dignified celebrations over the weekend. I’m keeping my post brief.

We must remember the many sacrifices made and be vigilant and pray that, in these unsettled times, such a war does not occur again.

Sacrifices were made by not only our brave service men and women but by ordinary people.

I remember particularly my cousin Billy, a rear gunner in the RAF, barely twenty years old, shot down and killed over Yugoslavia. My own father was in Africa and Italy, amongst other places… he never talked much about his war – most people didn’t. I know he was torpedoed and ended up in hospital. My own mother did not see him for many months and turned grey in the meantime. They married young during the war: her dress was made from parachute silk and ration coupons were exchanged with neighbours and friends for making the cake and buying shoes.

My Italian mother-in-law met her British army captain when she was eighteen in occupied Italy and came to England where she spent her married life, having to learn a totally new culture. What upheaval. What love.

Captain Horace Petch (shirtless) and his men on the Italian campaign

So, I remember the ordinary folk today. In extraordinary times. And I shall not forget. Thank you for all the sacrifices you made for us. I have tried my best to represent you in all my historical novels.

#neverforget #ww2 #weshallrememberthem #family