A distant bell and stars that fell

They tell me that this Sunday is the 60th anniversary of the end of World War Two. I’m sorry, but no it isn’t. They’re wrong. It’s certainly the 60th anniversary of the end of the war in Europe, but that was only part of the conflict. The War was still raging in the Far East, where my father was fighting.

I remember him telling me of a visit by one of the Top Brass (I can’t remember whether it was Auchinlech or Slim) who mentioned in his speech to the troops that “You may have heard that at Home they’re calling us ‘The Forgotten Army’. That’s not true. You can’t forget something you’ve never heard of.” That stuck in my father’s mind, that there they were, fighting and dying and the people they were doing it for didn’t give a toss.

And clearly they still don’t. Yes, let’s celebrate 60 years since the end of the last European War. But the Second World War wasn’t over till August 15th: VJ Day. That’s when I’ll be remembering, celebrating and mourning.