Roamer: Women’s undergarments requisitioned for festive bunting

Adding historical context to the government website (ve-vjday80.gov.uk) the Imperial War Museum emphasises May 8, 1945 as a day “that remained in the memory of all those who witnessed it. It meant an end to nearly six years of a war that had cost the lives of millions; had destroyed homes, families, and cities and had brought huge suffering and privations to the populations of entire countries.”

Of course VE Day wasn’t the end of WWII - that didn’t come until August 15, 1945, when Japan surrendered.

Christopher Wilson was six years old in 1945.

“We, the residents of a terrace of four houses on the Shore Road, Greenisland, were looking forward in April and during the first days of May 1945, with the rest of the world, to Winston Churchill’s announcement,” Christopher vividly recalls.

The Prime Minister’s VE Day speech to the nation, to packed crowds in London’s Whitehall and in Belfast’s city centre, didn’t duck the sombre post-war realities.

“We may allow ourselves a brief period of rejoicing,” he said in his historic radio broadcast, “but let us not forget for a moment the toil and efforts that lie ahead.”

There’ll be more local peoples’ wartime recollections here as next month’s commemorations draw closer - keep sending them to [email protected] - but the rest of this page is by Christopher Wilson, with some vivid memories of VE Day in Greenisland.

In preparation for the end of hostilities in Europe, my mother and the other mothers in our terrace decided they should demonstrate their thanks for the safe delivery from the Nazi hordes, even though the grey uniforms had not reached Greenisland, except in a nearby POW camp.

They set about dyeing white sheets the patriotic red, white and blue.

They carefully cut the cloth into triangles and strung the home made bunting, with the dads’ help, from the roof gutters to the garden hedges.

Alas, they had overestimated the distance from roof to hedge but victory was in the air and celebrate in full they would, with an overabundance of bunting.

There was another slight problem.

Even dyed in the British colours and cut into individual triangles, everyone could guess what foundation garments the ladies of the terrace had sacrificed for King and country!

On VE night the folks living on the Greenisland Shore Road and Station Road decided to have a bonfire in a field, now long gone to make way for housing.

Everyone helped to build the bonfire of sticks and cardboard -no air polluting tyres in those far off days.

A serious problem arose! Where could we find an effigy of Hitler?

Members of all denominations gratefully accepted an effigy that was being prepared for the traditional Ulster bonfire in July.

Hitler, even with a hastily painted black moustache, resembled a certain 16th century cleric thought to have been opposed to the then new Protestant Reformation!

Up went the flames and all present sang ‘God Save the King’. Suddenly there was a piercing scream.

A fine-looking young lady announced loudly that her new nylons had been destroyed by sparks from the fire. The respectable matrons showed no sympathy. We children heard them say, “Serve her right. She does things for the Americans.”

Well, of course, we were perplexed, so we asked our mothers what the fine young lady did for the Americans.

The mothers replied, almost in chorus, “Never mind. Enjoy the bonfire!”

Mugs of tea and home-baked buns completed the evening and we children were dragged home to bed hoping that our question about the Americans would maybe be answered tomorrow.

It wasn’t!

I am seldom back on the Station Road but when I am, I can still hear the scream “Oh, my nylons!”