This week has seen the country celebrating VE Day, marking 80 years since the end of World War II. Despite the time that has passed, it is still possible to feel the reflected relief and jubilation that the UK must have felt on the 8th May 1945. Looking back at how Durham School celebrated the occasion, I found the following quote from the Dunelmian, written by then Headmaster Canon Luce:

"We compressed all our excitement into one day, and added the second to our half-term holiday. After a short Thanksgiving Service in chapel the morning was spent in preparing the bonfire, and in seeing what the rest of Durham was doing—not very much, apparently, at that time in the morning. Volleys of 'blanks' from our gunnery experts reminded us of the occasion from time to time, and permission to smoke had been given, which provided some curious sights in various parts of the School precincts. In the afternoon we listened in Big School to Mr. Churchill and the allied commanders, and to the announcer describing the crowds basking in the sunshine outside Buckingham Palace. By that time it was raining heavily, so the projected gala on the Playgrounds was transferred to the Swimming Baths. A Sing-Song in Big School, and the King's speech on the wireless led on to the bonfire on Top Ground, round which we marched and sang with tireless energy and stentorian discord. Dormitory feasts to the small hours concluded a memorial day. The School's behaviour was admirable, and the Head of the School deserves much credit for his organisation and leadership." 

Lieutenant-General Sir Brian Horrocks, who had previously attended Bow School, was personally involved in liberating Europe in May 1945. In his book Corps Commander (1977), he quotes from his diary about his experiences in the Netherlands: "The enthusiasm is such as I have never seen before. I walked into Doorn, where the ex-Kaiser had spent his exile, and the little town looked like an ant-heap that had been disturbed, in the park a band was playing, watched by crowds, while others danced. Some people sat in their gardens and others by the roadside watching columns of food lorries passing through with white flags flying. In other parts, young people and old were waving orange flags and cheering, coming out on to the road with arms outstretched to touch hands with the passing soldiery, streamers were stretched across the road, flowers were thrown into the cabs of lorries. All this was still happening at least twenty-four hours after the first troops had been through." 

The unpublished memoirs of Old Dunelmians truly capture the international nature of the VE Day celebrations. Dr John McDonald, who was the school doctor from 1925 to 1959, spent his VE day on the front lines at the 43rd General Hospital in Lebanon. He recalled in his autobiographical manuscript A Doctor Goes to War visiting a fête in Beirut where, in honour of the war ending, a dog competition was held. "I took [my dog] Bimbo on the lead and trailed about with him all day. When it came to the dog show, the judge hardly looked at him and gave the prize to what looked to me like a miserable little mongrel."

Philip Brutton, who had only graduated from Durham School in 1943 before going to fight in Italy and Austria, would later comment that VE Day had largely been a civilian celebration, and he would only hear about it later. His diary of the 8th May, however, recalls the freed Prisoners of War celebrating, with "Yugoslavs, Russians and British all intermingling". 

Geoffrey Gilbertson, an OD who fought in the 4/7th Royal Dragoon Guards, recalled going to reconnoitre a village to attack in the morning but being met with machine gun fire; he was forced to take cover for the entire day, only able to return to his platoon under the cover of darkness. When he returned, he found the two regiments in the middle of a celebration. "We discovered that the war was over while we had been lying in the ditch, and everybody else of both regiments were very drunk indeed."

While these celebrations of VE Day were impressive, those at the Chorister School were anything but. I quote from George Hetherington and Alan Oyston's excellent 2018 memoir Wartime Choristers: 

As we were at school the day the war ended in 1945, we didn't hear the news until Gandy [Headmaster Canon Ganderton] came in to wake us up, at 7.30 the next morning, as usual: 

'Wakey, wakey, everyone up! By the way, the war finished yesterday. Now you've got twenty minutes to get ready for breakfast then choir practise…' 

Years later, I watched old news reels showing the whole of Britain celebrating with wild parties when the news broke. People often say what an exciting time it must have been for you, the day the war ended. 'Yes, marvellous,' I reply, with a forced smile."