STREETLY,
STAFFORDSHIRE
MEMORIES
(1936 - 1961)
...
FROM A SMALL
BOY'S "DIARY"
...
THURSDAY
16th
AUGUST 1945
AT LAST! ...
and Bonfires
in Beeson and
Beesands
by Chris Myers
|
Thursday, August 16th 1945
AT LAST! It happened!
Yesterday. It's all agreed
and the Allies have accepted
the Japanese surrender. We
are at peace. For the first
time for almost as long as I
can remember. I was
four-and-a-half when it
started. And now I shall be
ten next birthday. And into
double figures!
Mum and Dad are as happy as
larks. My brother won't be
sent out there now, for
definite. And even if he is,
he won't get killed. They
are calling it VJ Day. It's
two days of holiday for all
the country. That's
yesterday and today. Of
course, we're on holiday
in Devon anyway but it's still
feeling special.
This
is the third very important
thing which has happened
during my life. I can't
remember anything about the
first, on
September 3rd,
1939, because I was a bit
too young. But certainly I
remember the second, in
May
this year,
back at home, very well. That was VE Day.
We had a huge bonfire and
lots of thunderflashes and
cups of ginger beer to
drink. And of course I'm
going to remember the third
as well, which is yesterday
and today. Nothing has ever
been as important to this
country and the people in it
as those three dates. And
never will be. And that
third one is now, it's just
happened, and I mustn't
forget it.
Here is
how one of the Birmingham
newspapers announced it back
at home, yesterday.
Today's
Thursday. By tomorrow,
History will have finished
and dreadful things won't
happen any more.
The celebrations aren't
over yet. There are two days
of them, here in
Beeson and
Beesands. Today is going to
be the second one. I'll tell
you now about what happened
yesterday.
It
started off as a mucking
about day. I'm pretty
good at mucking about, as
I've told you before. Here
you can do it around the
farm, or at the cottage, or
up and down the lane. I like
to do it with friends if
possible. And
I have made some new friends
here.
There are one or two local
children and a few visitors
like me. One of the visitors
is a boy of about my own age
who comes from a place
called
Surrey. He is here
with his mum. His name is
Terry but his mum calls him
Terrence. He's met Monty!
They are staying in one of
the cottages whose gardens
you can see on the other
side of the road from where
we are staying. When I'm at
the cottage, the mucking
about also includes
Simon who is Mrs.
Honeywill's little boy.
He's younger than me but
it's still nice to play with
him. And with his toys. We
were all at the back of the
cottage one day and someone
took a picture of us.
It might have been Dad or
possibly it was Mrs. H. - I
can't remember which. You
might like to see it. Here
it is. At the front
is
Simon,
then me, then Terry and
another friend at the very back.
We are all on Simon's trike
and its little trailer and
we're all wearing hats which
we have pinched from the
hooks behind the kitchen
door.
But yesterday's mucking
about was a bit special, after we
heard the news.
I spent it with three or
four of my new friends,
exploring and roaming around
the fields. I don't know how
we found out about it, but
in the corner of a field
quite close to the village a
large pile of branches,
timber and other stuff has
appeared. We quickly
convinced ourselves that
this was the village bonfire
for tonight. So, of course,
we kept a close eye on it
all through the day and
visited it regularly, just
to make sure that it was all
OK.
Everything went well.
Until......in the late
afternoon when we were
making our final check on
it. Disaster. Total
disaster. The pile looked
wet and bedraggled and
soggy. It would never, ever
burn. Why? It hadn't been
raining. Then the voice of
doom from one of our group.
"The cows have piddled
on it!"
We were
devastated. We had been
dreaming about this
wonderful bonfire for most
of the day. But one of us, a
local lad and so a real
countryman, was made of
sterner stuff. He knew about
things. He approached the
pile, ran his finger over a
tree trunk, lifted it to his
nose and gave his
professional verdict:
"Cow piddle, my *rse!!
That be paraffin!"
And so, dusty, sweaty but
much reassured we went off
to our various homes, ready
for tea and the evening's
spectacle.
But after
all that effort I have to
tell you that I
haven't yet found out
whether the pile of material
was really a bonfire, ready
for the village celebration.
Mum and Dad had decided that
we were going to walk to
Beesands after tea because
they knew for definite that
something was going on
there. So off we went.
It was dusk when
everything started in
Beesands. Along the road
through the village, and
past The Cricket, there came
a procession of local
people, each carrying a
flaming torch held high. It
was a real sight. Dad was
very impressed. I know he
didn't like the newsreel films
showing Hitler's men doing
the same thing before the
war (because he hated Hitler
and I did as well). But he
was willing to forget that
because he thought this
looked wonderful. And it
did. A bit
later I heard him getting
one of the local lads to
explain exactly how they had
made these things. He
listened very carefully and
I know he is going to try
and do the same thing when
we have our first post-war
Guy Fawkes bonfire at home.
(Post-war - that's a funny
word. I've heard it being
used a few times about The
Future and I expect we'll
hear it a lot now. It's the
opposite of pre-war, when
all the nice things used to
happen). He says
they are made of rolled up
paper soaked in what he
calls paraffin wax. I think
that's the same as candle
wax. I wonder if his will
work as well.
Anyway,
we followed the procession
to the end of the road
before it turns left to
leave the village. And then
straight on, along a track
which leads on along the
shore. Not far along that was
a huge bonfire which I
hadn't noticed when we came
down the hill into the
village. Everyone used their
torches to set light to this
great pile of timber, wooden
crates, tree branches and
all sorts of other rubbish.
It quickly flared up into
the dark sky. Just like the
one we had in Streetly in
May. It was wonderful. I
didn't notice if they had
Hitler and Tojo on top of
this one as well.
When it had died down a bit
they started to let off
fireworks. Goodness knows
where they got them from.
Perhaps they had saved them
from before the war. But
there were fireworks there
that I had only ever heard
about before and could never
remember having seen. Things
like Roman candles and
Catherine wheels. And
bangers. But what was
absolutely wonderful was
that they had one or two
rockets! When they were
about to let the first of
these off, Dad was so
excited that he dragged me
to his side at the front of
the crowd, pointed and then
said in a voice that was a
bit too loud and a bit too
foreign for this part of the
world,
"Just watch
this, Christopher!"
"Just watch this,
Christopher!" called out one
or two other voices in the
crowd. Bigger boys than me.
I didn't think that they
sounded too friendly. In
fact, rather the opposite. I
felt an outsider. Which I
am, of course, here. It
wasn't a nice feeling and I
didn't feel safe. I kept
close to Dad as the rocket
whooshed up into the sky and
exploded in a shower of
stars. Then watched the
second one do the same
thing.
The rockets
marked the end of the
display and slowly people
started to drift away,
leaving the bonfire as a
mound of glowing embers. I
wasn't too unhappy to move
away as well, although the
two or three lads who scared
me had probably already
forgotten that I existed.
But it isn't nice to know
that you've been noticed and
I wouldn't have wished to be
there without Dad to keep
close to. Parents don't
always think, do they? They
try to be kind and do the
right thing but even they
can make a bit of a mistake
sometimes. But it didn't
really spoil it for me and
it's something I shall
always remember. The whoosh
of that first rocket! And
yes, lads, I WAS watching it
and I shan't ever forget it.
The crowd we were
walking with went straight
on back into the village and
towards their own homes. Or
the pub. The three of us
turned right and started the
familiar climb up the narrow
lane, past all the towering
hedgerows with their
glowworms and crickets and
smell of honeysuckle as the
sound of the sea
gradually faded. Just our
chatter and the sound of our
footsteps on the lane.
Finally our cottage came
into sight. Everything was
quiet and peaceful. If there
had been any bonfire there,
everyone was back home by
now. Bed, and I had still
got the Beeson children's
party to look forward to
tomorrow afternoon. (That's
today, now). I have been
invited. That will be Part 2
of my V-J Day celebrations.
Super! But it had to be a
good, long sleep first after
all the excitement over
bonfires.
Golly, you
DO get tired here.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Please see INDEX page for
general acknowledgements.
Grateful
acknowledgement is also made
to:
- the several owners of the
Myers Family Archive of which all
the images shown on this page are a
part
- Matt Felkin of the
excellent
WW2 Birmingham Facebook group
for the newspaper image
This family
and local history
page is hosted by
- The Home Guard of Great Britain, 1940-1944
-
www.staffshomeguard.co.uk
All
text and images are, unless otherwise stated, © The
Myers Family 2025
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