Round the World

In Britain the news of victory was at first unofficial, but Britain loyally followed the early lead of their King. To General Eisenhower, His Majesty sent a message of gratitude for "complete and crushing" victory.

Millions of pent-up Londoners broke into jubilant celebration, not waiting for the formal two-day holiday their Government had promised them. Buildings broke out with flags and bunting. Guards regiments paraded through the city. Pubs were packed, beer flowed by the barrelful. Effigies of Hitler were hoisted to lampposts. G.I.s on furlough yelled, hugged any handy girl.

For hours jovial crowds milled about the iron gates of Buckingham Palace shouting in unison: "One, two, three, four; who are we waiting for? G-E-0-R-G-E. We want the King." The King did not appear, but three servants of the royal household did and drew a storm of "hoorays."

Pyrotechnics & Aspirin. For most Parisians V-E day meant the return of Jacques from captivity; all the scintillating lights on the boulevards could riot obliterate that fact. Peace had come piecemeal: it was not V-E day but the day of liberation that Paris would remember. But great crowds thronged the streets, children gasped at the strange sight of fireworks, blazing trails of colored sparks over the Place de l' Opera. Red Cross clubs cautiously stocked up on aspirin tablets and hot coffee.

In Rome, church bells filled the air with a hymn of happiness. Snake dances wound gaily through the streets. Broadcast Premier Ivanoe Bonomi resoundingly: "Italy is exultant at this victory. . . ." Up & down the Po valley, colored flares fired by celebrating soldiers raced across the sky. But from Genoa to Milan there was little uproarious joy. The future looked too unsure.

Nightmare's End. For the first time in six years Sweden forgot about neutrality. Magnums of champagne were dangled from ropes to passers-by who wanted to drink.

In Oslo, where news of victory preceded actual liberation, Norwegians at first stayed tense and silent while German troops still patrolled the streets. Then children began to snowball into the streets with flags and Christmas-tree trimmings. Prisoners awaiting release waved scarves from their barred windows before crowds set them free.

In belligerently neutral Dublin, Trinity College students raised Allied flags on the college green--to the booing of passersby. When the flag-waving gave way to the singing of God Save the King and Britannia Rules the Waves, the police had to stop the crowd from storming the college.

Trilingual Hosannas. Jerusalem's winding, flag-bedecked streets filled with people congratulating one another in English, Hebrew and Arabic. For the first time since the coronation of George VI, the Tower of David and the old city walls were bathed in floodlights.

Pacific Calm. In the Pacific Theater the mood was mostly sober. In Guam, as in Manila, the war with Japan was too close to forget, even momentarily. In Melbourne, Australians in the thousands, their menfolk still at war, prayed in the public squares. In New Delhi the news made a very small ripple in the capital's official routine.

To Chinese the end of the European war sounded like the far-off winding horn of a relieving army. Help was on its way--but how long would it take?

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