‘The war is over!’

By Jean Jungst of Morris

There is one day in my life I will never forget.

I grew up a child in England in the “war years.” World War II began in Britain in September 1939 and lasted seven long, weary years. 

Not a good time to be raising children. Children were often frightened, always hungry, and usually cold. 

Food was hard to find so my father planted a big vegetable garden behind our house. At least we always had something to eat, even if it was only potatoes.

Father was proud of his “victory garden” and wanted it to always look neat. So one morning I was out in the garden pulling weeds when there arose such a clamor out on the street. People were shouting to one another and I wondered what was going on.

A brick wall surrounded the garden. I walked through the gate and saw a crowd of people in front of the house.

“Whatever is going on?” I asked a little man.

“Haven’t you heard?” he said. “They just announced that the war is over!” and he grabbed my hand and began twirling and whirling me around and around on the street. He looked so happy.

“Wait!” I cried. “I’ve got to go and tell my mother!”

Mother was in the house vacuuming the dining carpet.

“Turn that thing off,” I said, “and turn on the radio. They’ve just announced that the war is over!”

Mother fell to her knees praising God and thanking Him for the good fortune. The announcer on the radio could hardly speak he was so overcome by the news. He kept repeating over and over again, “The war is over. Let peace begin!”

Father held his business in the three front rooms of the house. When he heard the news he told the office workers to “go home for the rest of the day,” and then added, “What the heck, take the rest of the week off with full pay!”

My parents started dancing, the Polka I think. They looked so happy. 

People began pouring out of their homes and businesses laughing, crying and hugging one another. Church bells began to ring. There was dancing in the streets.