VE Day: Remembering the individual's experience of war

Victory in Europe (VE) day was a day of joy and celebration. The sacrifices of six long years had brought peace to Europe, with Adolf Hitler’s Nazi party roundly defeated. But it was also a day of great sorrow. Loved ones who died at the front line and on the home front were mourned and worries for those with friends and family still serving overseas were very real. Victory had been won in Europe, but the war was not over yet for many.

My father was one of the lucky ones. He served for the entire period of the Second World war but survived. Many of his friends were not so lucky. My father was 52 when my twin sister and I were born, unplanned. He died when I was 18 years old, so I never really knew him as an adult. There are many questions I have today that I did not get the opportunity to ask. My father rarely spoke of the details of that major period in his life but clearly bore the physical and mental scares of what was really the first six years of his adulthood. But do I know enough about his story.

Stanley White, my father, was 19 when Germany invaded Poland in September 1939. The day after war was declared, he volunteered to join the British Army alongside his older brother – my Uncle Charlie. He went through basic training, during which he was taught to drive and was soon sent on his first mission. In early 1940 he was assigned to drive troop carriers for the British Expeditionary Force and was sent across the channel to France.

In France during early 1940 the German forces had the upper hand. My father and his company were pushed back to the beaches around Dunkirk where they spent days on the beach under ariel bombardment. It is here in Northern France that my father sustained the worst injuries he endured during his time of service.

Swimming with shrapnel

During one bombardment, a large piece of shrapnel from a German explosive penetrated his right arm entering perfectly in line with the gap between his radius and ulna. This was his most obvious scar of war and clearly visible until the day he died.

There was no real medical assistance on the beaches and the constant bombing meant that the men had to make do as best as they can. My father had his arm bound and tied around his neck for support – still with the jagged piece of German metal inside him. It was in this condition he entered the murky water of the English Channel to meet one of the many small boats that had been sent from southern English ports to bring the soldiers back home.

My father had been taught to drive by the army but had not been taught to swim. Encumbered by his injury just getting offshore, the boats sent over during Operation Dynamo became a terrifying experience, one I deduce was the most traumatic of his life. He hinted at the horrors of that time in the cold English Channel but would never go into too much detail. This was a common trait of this generation. However, the scale of his experience in northern France as a 19-year-old man was a major part of the man he became until the day he died. But the extent of the horrors, were literally, unmentionable.

After recovering from his injuries, my father served for the entirety of the war. He spent much time in North Africa and was involved in the invasion of Italy in late 1943. Fortunately, he never had such a terrible experience as the one he endured at Dunkirk.

War has a terrible impact on those involved – both soldiers and civilians – and this impact echoes through time. The events at Dunkirk had a major influence on my life, but it took quite some time for me to understand this.

I started swimming lessons aged four and, at risk of stoking my father’s fury, I was never allowed to miss a lesson. No event was more important than those weekly sessions at the pool and my skills rapidly developed due to this regime. I was borough backstroke champion at 13 and qualified as a swimming instructor at 14, teaching adult lifesaving classes when I was just 15.

My confidence in water brings me much joy to this day and I can’t imagine what a hole in my live a lack of confidence in water brings. My father’s determination that his children would never feel fear in water and have the skills to cope in a dangerous situation was forged in those English Channel waters 85 years ago.

Wars are not only fought by armies – they are fought by individuals. Almost all of them have unique – and often terrible – stories to tell. A person’s presence in the theatre of war is usually life changing and the men and women that experience that never forget. It is important that we never forget that an army is made of individuals.

As we mark 80 years since VE Day – when the scars of war are damaging Europe once more – it remains imperative that we remember the events of those terrible six years and take the lessons of history. But we also must remember that all these big milestone events were driven by individual people. It is right and just that we remember the sacrifices they all made and salute all that give their service to the defence of the realm.