VE Day Had Come - But Why Weren’t They Home Yet?

On the 8^th of May 1945, crowds had gathered across Britain to celebrate VE Day. After nearly six years of war in Europe, the relief must have been huge. But many families were still waiting for their husbands, sons, brothers and fathers to come home.

 

For some, that was still months away. For others, it would be years.

 

I hadn’t realised quite how many servicemen were still needed after the fighting in Europe had ended. In June 1945, the British Army actually reached its wartime peak of around 3.1 million serving personnel, including both men and women.

 

There was still a war being fought against Japan, and British troops in Europe were taking on new responsibilities, including the occupation of Germany and helping to deal with the enormous destruction that was left behind.

 

Demobilisation began on the 18^th of June 1945, but bringing so many people back was never going to be straightforward.

 

Most were placed into groups according to their age and length of service. Those whose civilian jobs were particularly important to rebuilding Britain could sometimes be released earlier, but many just had to wait until their number came up.

 

Even former prisoners of war faced difficulties. Thousands were brought home after being liberated, but returning to Britain didn’t necessarily mean being discharged from the Army. In October 1945, questions were actually being raised in Parliament about men who had spent years in captivity and were now facing the possibility of being sent overseas again.

 

I can’t begin to imagine how those men and their families must have felt.

 

And although Japan surrendered in August 1945, British forces still had responsibilities around the world. Troops were needed in occupied Germany and across Britain’s overseas territories, while the enormous task of demobilisation continued.

 

Throughout 1946, men and women returned to civilian life, but the process was still continuing well into 1947.

 

It makes me think about VE Day a little differently. We remember the celebrations, the flags and the crowds filling the streets, and rightly so. But for many families, the joy of victory must have been mixed with the knowledge that someone they loved was still far from home.

 

And for them, perhaps the moment that mattered most wasn’t the announcement of victory, but the day their loved one finally came home.

 

Did your father, grandfather or another member of your family remain in the forces long after VE Day? I’d love to hear when they finally came home.

 

Have a cuppa and let’s discover history together.

 

 

 

Image info:

Demobilisation of the British Army, 1945. Photograph by Sergeant Bert Hardy, No. 5 Army Film and Photographic Unit. Imperial War Museums, BU 8067. Public domain.

 

 

William Built Two Castles to Hold York - But His Enemies Captured Them Both

William Built Two Castles to Hold York - But His Enemies Captured Them Both

In my last medieval post, we followed Edwin and Morcar as they challenged William the Conqueror in 1068. The two earls eventually submitted, and William continued north, building a castle at York to strengthen his control. But their surrender did not bring an end to resistance in northern England.

In January 1069, William’s newly appointed Earl of Northumbria, Robert de Comines, arrived at Durham with his soldiers. He had been warned about the hostility awaiting him, but went into the city anyway. Northumbrians rose against the newcomers, killing Robert and many of his men.

The trouble soon reached York. Edgar Ætheling, the young English prince who had been considered for the throne after Harold’s death, joined opponents of William’s rule, including Gospatric and Merleswein. The Norman commander William Malet was forced to seek help as rebels threatened the castle.

William marched north and drove the rebels away. Before leaving York, he ordered a second castle to be built across the River Ouse. With Norman soldiers stationed in both fortifications, he hoped to keep the city under control.

Later that year, however, an even greater threat appeared. A Danish fleet sent by King Sweyn II arrived in England and joined northern English forces. Edgar Ætheling, Gospatric and Waltheof were among those associated with the alliance, which advanced on York in September.

As the danger grew, Norman defenders set fire to buildings near the castles, fearing they could be used against them. The flames spread through York and engulfed St Peter’s Minster, the church that stood before the present cathedral.

The English and Danish forces overwhelmed the garrison. Both castles fell, and many Norman soldiers were killed. It was a remarkable victory, especially considering that William had defeated Harold at Hastings only three years earlier.

William returned north with another army. The Danish forces withdrew towards the Humber, allowing him to recover York. He also used payments to secure their withdrawal. Yet recovering the city was only the beginning of what followed. During the winter of 1069–1070, William’s campaign across the north would bring terrible suffering to its inhabitants.

I find it striking how quickly William had to return to York. Even his castles and their Norman garrisons had not been enough to keep the city securely under his control.

Do you think the English rebels had a genuine chance of driving William out once the Danish fleet arrived?

☕ Have a cuppa and let’s discover history together.

Image info:

York Castle in 1644, engraving by W. H. Toms after Francis Place. A later depiction of Clifford’s Tower, on the site of William the Conqueror’s original castle at York. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

They Had Fled to Britain for Safety - Then Britain Sent Them to Australia as Prisoners

They Had Fled to Britain for Safety - Then Britain Sent Them to Australia as Prisoners

In my last Second World War post, we looked at Britain's decision to send prisoners of war and civilian internees overseas during the summer of 1940. With fears of a German invasion growing, the government wanted to reduce the number of people it considered a possible security risk.

We also discovered the terrible fate of the Arandora Star, which was torpedoed on the 2nd of July 1940 while carrying internees towards Canada.

But the overseas transfers continued, and just eight days later, another ship left Britain carrying thousands of men.

On the 10th of July 1940, HMT Dunera departed Liverpool bound for Australia. On board were 2,542 detainees, including German and Italian prisoners of war, civilian internees and even some survivors of the Arandora Star disaster.

But most of the passengers were not actually supporters of Germany's wartime government. Many were Jewish refugees who had escaped persecution in Germany and Austria, hoping to find safety in Britain.

But because of their nationality, they had been classified as enemy aliens and detained.

The conditions on board the Dunera were appalling. The ship was badly overcrowded, and it had inadequate washing and toilet facilities. The men were allowed very little time in the fresh air, and their treatment by some of the British guards was harsh.

Personal belongings, valuables and important documents were confiscated. Many of their items stolen or thrown overboard. Internees later described beatings, humiliation and verbal abuse.

For 57 days, the men had to live in these conditions, travelling thousands of miles across dangerous seas. The ship also faced the threat of German submarines.

The Dunera reached Melbourne on the 3rd of September 1940, where some of the detainees disembarked. The remaining passengers continued to Sydney, arriving on the 6th of September.

From there, many were taken by train to an internment camp at Hay, in New South Wales. Others were eventually held in camps in Australia.

Among those detained were musicians, scientists, artists, teachers and other highly educated men who had already lost so much when they fled their homes in Europe.

Within weeks of the ship leaving Britain, the government had begun changing its approach to civilian internment. By October 1940, it was already expressing its regret over the detention of most of the men sent on the Dunera.

I find it impossible to imagine what these poir refugees must have been feeling. They had managed remarkably to escape persecution. They had reached a country that they hoped would protect them, and then found themselves sent halfway around the world under armed guard.

Their experiences in the Australian camps are another huge part of this history, and that is where I want to take our story next.

☕ Have a cuppa and let's discover history together.

Image info:

HMT Dunera, 1940. Australian War Memorial, Naval Historical Collection, 303219. Public domain.

The Victorian Post Office Employed Three Cats- And They Even Got a Pay Rise!

The Victorian Post Office Employed Three Cats- And They Even Got a Pay Rise!

Did you know that the Victorian Post Office once employed three cats, gave them an allowance and even put them on probation to see whether they were any good at their jobs?

I came across this rather lovely piece of Victorian history, and it made me smile. It turns out that even cats weren't entirely free from the rules and regulations of Victorian working life!

In September 1868, the Money Order Office in London was having trouble with rats and mice. These unwanted visitors were a particular nuisance in a busy office handling important paperwork, and something needed to be done about them.

The solution was wonderfully simple. The Post Office decided to employ three cats.

Although cats had probably been catching mice in postal buildings for years, these three were officially appointed and given an allowance of one shilling a week between them to help towards their upkeep.

That works out at just four old pence per cat!

However, the Post Office Secretary wasn't prepared to let them enjoy an easy life. The cats were placed on probation, and he was particularly concerned that they should not be overfed. They were expected to catch mice, which would also provide some of their food.

There was even a warning that if the mouse problem hadn't improved within six months, their allowance would be reduced.

Can you imagine three cats having their work performance assessed by Victorian government officials? I suspect anyone who has ever owned a cat will appreciate just how amusing that sounds!

Thankfully, the little workers seem to have proved their worth. On the 7th of May 1869, an official report recorded that "the cats have done their duty very efficiently".

Their efforts were evidently appreciated because, in 1873, their weekly allowance was increased by sixpence.

The arrangement proved successful enough for the official use of cats to spread to other post offices, where they continued helping to control rats and mice.

And this wasn't a short-lived Victorian experiment. Post Office cats remained part of British postal life well into the twentieth century, with some becoming quite famous in their own right.

I love discovering these little glimpses of everyday history. We often hear about Victorian inventions, factories and great achievements, but it's stories like this that remind me of the more unusual side of life.

Now I'd love to know, if you have a cat, would it have earned its Victorian pay rise, or would it have spent the entire working day asleep on the paperwork? 

Image info:

The Cat - Felis domesticus, 1872. Library of Congress. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

German Intelligence Trusted His 27 Spies - But Not One of Them Existed

German Intelligence Trusted His 27 Spies - But Not One of Them Existed

In 1941, a Spanish man named Juan Pujol García approached British officials with an rather unusual offer. He wanted to become a spy and help Britain to defeat Germany. The British were not interested. He was persistent and tried three times, but each time he was turned down.

Pujol wasn't prepared to give up, so he decided to approach German intelligence instead. He convinced them that he supported them and was willing to gather information from Britain. They actually decided to recruit him, but they never suspected that he had absolutely no intention of helping them.

Rather than going to Britain as he had been instructed, Pujol went to Lisbon in Portugal. He began inventing intelligence reports using guidebooks, newspapers and other reference materials. He wrote as though he were living in Britain, describing military activities he had never witnessed. The Germans believed his reports, he began to create imaginary informants to gather information on his behalf.

In April 1942, Pujol finally made contact with MI6 and was brought to London, where MI5 took over his work. Alongside his handler, Tomás Harris, he developed an extraordinary network of 27 fictional agents, each with their own background and identity. There was a Venezuelan living in Glasgow, an American army sergeant and even a Welsh nationalist in Swansea.

By 1944, Pujol, who was now known as Agent Garbo, was playing an important role in Operation Fortitude, which was the wider Allied deception campaign that was designed to convince German commanders that the main invasion of France would actually take place near Calais rather than Normandy.

One interesting incident happened on the 6th of June 1944, the day of the Normandy landings.

Garbo had arranged to send an urgent warning at 3am, supposedly based on information from one of his agents. However, when he attempted to make contact, the German radio operator was not listening. His warning went unanswered, and by the time German intelligence realised what had happened, the invasion was already under way.

Rather than becoming suspicious, the Germans considered Garbo even more reliable because he had apparently tried to warn them.

On the 9th of June, he sent another important message, claiming that the Normandy landings were merely a diversion and that the main Allied attack was still to come near Calais. German commanders continued to keep substantial forces in that area, helping give Allied troops valuable time to establish themselves in Normandy.

Garbo's deception was so convincing that, on the 29th of July 1944, he was informed that Germany had awarded him the Iron Cross for his services. In December of the same year, Britain awarded him an MBE.

Had you heard of Agent Garbo before? I'd love to know.

But how did Garbo and his British handler manage to keep 27 imaginary spies believable without German intelligence discovering the truth? In my extended subscriber post, we’re taking a closer look at the fictional agents, the carefully planned deception and the extraordinary lengths they went to in order to maintain the Germans’ trust. There’s much more to this fascinating story, and I’d love you to join me as we discover it together.

Image info:

Juan Pujol García (Agent Garbo), photographed in disguise, 1944. British Security Service / The National Archives. Public domain (expired Crown copyright), via Wikimedia Commons.

England Had Defeated the Spanish Armada - But Its Own Fleet Was About to Suffer a Disastrous Failure

England Had Defeated the Spanish Armada - But Its Own Fleet Was About to Suffer a Disastrous Failure

In my last Tudor post, we followed the remains of the Spanish Armada as its ships struggled to return home in 1588. Storms, shipwrecks and exhaustion had taken a terrible toll, while England was celebrating its escape from invasion.

But the war between England and Spain was far from over. The following year, Elizabeth I supported an expedition intended to take advantage of Spain’s weakened position and strike another blow against Philip II.

In 1589, a large English fleet sailed under the command of Sir Francis Drake, with Sir John Norris leading the soldiers. The expedition, that is usually known today as the English Armada or Counter-Armada, was financed by Elizabeth and private investors.

Its objectives were ambitious. The English intended to attack surviving Spanish warships, particularly those sheltering at Santander, support António, Prior of Crato, in his attempt to claim the Portuguese throne, and potentially capture valuable Spanish treasure ships returning from overseas.

The expedition did not go according to plan.

Rather than proceeding directly to Santander, the fleet attacked the Spanish port of A Coruña in May 1589, partly attracted by reports of ships and valuable cargo there.

The English captured and plundered part of the town, but its defenders resisted fiercely when they attempted to take the fortified old town. Among those remembered for their courage was María Pita, a local woman who became a celebrated figure in the city’s defence.

After days of fighting, the English withdrew without capturing the whole town.

The fleet then continued towards Portugal, where its commanders hoped the population would rise against Spanish rule and support António as their king.

But the widespread uprising they had hoped for never came. Some Portuguese supporters assisted António, but nowhere near enough to secure the English expedition’s success.

English troops approached Lisbon, but shortages of supplies, poor coordination between the army and fleet, and resistance from forces loyal to Philip II made their position increasingly difficult. Eventually, they abandoned the attempt and withdrew.

By the time the expedition returned to England, disease, hunger and fighting had claimed thousands of lives. The principal objectives had not been achieved, and the financial losses were considerable.

For Elizabeth, it was disappointing so soon after the celebrations of 1588.

I had heard so much about the Spanish Armada long before I learnt about the English expedition that followed. It is interesting how two such enormous campaigns, taking place only a year apart, have been remembered so differently.

England had successfully resisted invasion in 1588, but its own attempt to weaken Spain the following year had ended badly. Both kingdoms had suffered considerable losses, and the war between them would continue until 1604, after Elizabeth’s death.

Had you heard about the English Armada of 1589, or is this a chapter of Tudor history that’s new to you?

☕ Have a cuppa and let’s discover history together.

Image info:

María Pita defending A Coruña, 1589. Painting by Arturo Fernández Cersa, 1889. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

They Thought They Were Spying for Germany - But Their Secret Contact Was Working for MI5

They Thought They Were Spying for Germany - But Their Secret Contact Was Working for MI5

Not everyone who tried to help Germany during the Second World War had arrived from abroad. Some were already living in Britain, going about their lives while looking for ways to help the enemy.

In early 1942, MI5 gave Eric Roberts, who had already been involved in undercover intelligence work, a new assignment. He was to pose as a representative of the German secret police and identify people who were willing to help Germany.

Roberts had previously worked as a clerk for Westminster Bank and he lived in Epsom, Surrey. Using the name Jack King, he pretended to be organising a network of people who could secretly help Germany.

One of the people he contacted was Marita Perigoe, a woman with strong pro-German sympathies. She was eager to help the German war effort and believed Roberts was genuine. She introduced him to other people.who shared her views.

Roberts began meeting his contacts at a flat in London's Edgware Road, where MI5 had secretly installed microphones to record their conversations.

One of those contacts was Hans Kohout, an Austrian-born naturalised British citizen who worked for John Dickinson, a company involved in secret Admiralty and Air Ministry contracts.

Kohout supplied information about 'Window', a wartime development that used strips of metallic foil to confuse German radar. He had also managed to obtain details about the Mosquito aircraft. At the same time, he was serving in Civil Defence, helping with Britain's wartime protection efforts.

Other contacts supplied information about fuel storage sites, aircraft technology and an amphibious tank undergoing secret trials.

The people handing over these details believed they were helping German intelligence. Instead, their information was reaching MI5, which could investigate those involved and prevent the material from reaching Germany.

Roberts had been instructed not to encourage people to commit acts against Britain. His job was to identify individuals already willing to assist the enemy.

Although the operation continued for several years, MI5 concluded, after consulting the police, that prosecutions were not feasible. Defence lawyers could argue that the undercover methods had encouraged the very activities being investigated.

I find it particularly disturbing that people like Hans Kohout could be carrying on with their ordinary lives, even serving in Civil Defence, while secretly trying to pass British military information to Germany. It makes me wonder how many people living alongside them had any idea what they were doing.

Had you heard about this MI5 operation and the people involved?

Source: MI5 - Eric Roberts' Undercover Work in World War II.

Image info:

British Ministry of Information wartime poster, The National Archives, INF 3/270. Public domain.