King George VI – The Melting Pot

V.J. Day – a Contemporary Account

by Laura Bray (née Bevan)

Following on from the account of V.E. Day from Glyn Bevan’s diary which appeared on this blog in May (http://www.merthyr-history.com/?p=4691), to mark the 75th anniversary of V.J. Day, here is an account of the days leading up to V.J. Day and the day itself from Glyn’s diary.

13th August
We put up all our flags and streamers yesterday and have listened to every news today to hear the official announcement of the end of the war. None of us have much doubt about it although it is believed that the Japs in Burma may fight on whether Japan capitulates or not. Rumours all day about peace and premature celebrations all over the U.S., Canada and Australia. Stayed round the supper table talking for ages and then washed up. Continued talking in the drawing room until 01.00.

14th August
All up rather late. Decided to go to Tintern and Symonds Yat before dinner. Came on through the Forest of Dean (where a red squirrel crossed the road) to Monmouth, and then went on down the lovely Wye Valley to Tintern. Unfortunately it was shut but we walked all round the outside of it. A very lovely place and in very good repair. Came on through Chepstow, Caerphilly and Nelson. Celebrations all the way up, several bonfires and a few rockets, floodlighting and illuminating V’s etc. Rumours all day. We fully expected the official announcement on the 9.00 o’clock news. Now we are waiting for Attlee to broadcast at midnight. We are all expecting Japan to agree to our terms of course, and that means peace.

……….

PEACE

Attlee has just announced that Japan has accepted our surrender terms and that tomorrow and the next day will be celebrated as victory days throughout the country. A very matter of fact speech with none of the drama that old Churchill would have put into it. The whole Empire must be sorry that he couldn’t make the announcement. We toasted the new peace with whiskey and wine and cake. Rockets started exploding singly and there was a little shouting. From the bedroom window we could see about 15 bonfires – but none really large. Later on crowds in town sang and danced and prayed until 3.00 o’clock in the morning. Hooters went as well and engines in the station blew their whistles. Several church bells rang including ours (people thundered on the door of the Vicarage, woke the Vicar and pretty well told him to ring it) and there was a peal of bells from the Parish Church. Town filled rapidly and there were crowds there for hours.

15th August
Rain last night, and after a week of very dry weather and the air was cold and clean with smoke drifting up and the sound of church bells in the valley. Very calm and peaceful, fresh and sweet, like a Sunday morning. I read most of the morning and nearly all the afternoon. Listened to a description of the King driving down Whitehall to open Parliament and also went to town where the shops were open till about 10.30. Then came home to find they had all gone to a Thanksgiving Service in Cyfarthfa so we down town to see if there was anything doing. There seemed to be a lot of troops about (nearly all army) but things were fairly quiet. Plenty of flags and streamers. Came back via Thomastown and up the Tramroad in time to hear the King at 21.00. We all went down to the bonfire on the allotments after the news (for which we supplied most of the heavy logs). About 20 good bonfires in the valley and lots of rockets and fireworks but no bells tonight.

Residents of Tramroadside North celebrating V.J. Day

16th August
Spent the morning doing little odd jobs that I wanted to clear up before going away. Read after dinner till 15.00 when we decided to go down to Cardiff to see Terence Rattigan’s play “While the Sun Shines”. Play very good. Museum floodlit. A large crowd was dancing and singing in front of the Civic Centre. Bonfires all the way up the valley but not on the same scale as Coronation night. Came through Pontypridd where they had coloured lights strung along both sides of the main streets for about a mile and a well made crown fixed over the bridge. Very poor fireworks, but it is amazing that people have any at all. Saw lots of street teas on the way down.

V.E. Day – a Contemporary Account

by Anna Morrell (née Bevan)

Glyn Bevan, my uncle, from Merthyr Tydfil, served as an officer in the Royal Navy during the Second World War, and was working at the Admiralty in London, aged just 24, when peace was declared. Here is his diary account of the V.E. Day celebrations in London. .

V.E. DAY

Violent thunderstorm, between 0100 and 0300. I was woken up by an extremely bright flash of lightning at the start. Heavy rain for a time. I believe there was a thunderstorm the night war was declared too. The streets were already filling with people as I cycled in to Admiralty. The end of the war has coincided with a big leave party from the B.L.A. (British Liberation Army) and also with the return of a large number of P.O.W.s, so besides the usual flags and banners many house have “Welcome home” and “Welcome home Pally” on them. About 75% of the houses and shops on the way in had at least one flag. All very like the Coronation in a way except that the whole thing has so much more meaning.

Am in Admiralty all day. Went out to lunch with J.L.S. and had to fight our way through perfectly enormous crowds in Trafalgar Square. Got held up by a procession on the way back and we were both streaming with perspiration, almost exhausted by the time we got back to the cool corridors of Admiralty.

Church bells were ringing all day. I locked up the office at 1500 to hear the PM – the first time it has been locked up since war started – and again at night to hear the King who spoke very well. Went out again for dinner – up to Piccadilly and Leicester Square where it was almost impossible to move. Planes were flying over dropping flares and the crowd was letting off explosives. Took Joan and another girl out into Whitehall at 2230 to see the lights. A lot of Whitehall was flood-lit, all Trafalgar Square, where it was a light as day with mobile searchlight batteries, and Parliament. The Jack on Parliament Tower was flood-lit too and looked grand and so was Big Ben. The show piece in Whitehall was the Ministry of Health which had flags of all the nations up besides being floodlit and bathed in searchlights. We went down just in time to see and hear Churchill speaking to a crowd of 60,000 from the balcony. The place was massed between Parliament Square until past the Cenotaph and the whole lot of us cheered and cheered at intervals through his speech until we were hoarse.

Winston Churchill greeting the crowds in Whitehall

Then went up to Trafalgar Square where they were letting off dozens of Very lights and explosives. The crowd was so immense that we simply had to drift with it, you couldn’t move independently. Eventually we got through Admiralty Arch as most people seemed to be going to the Palace. The Arch was lit by 40 searchlights and it was almost literally as bright as day. This was in addition to the usual floodlighting arc-lamps. The National Gallery and St Martin’s were also floodlit and looked grand. Planes dropping flares over St James Park, and there was also a bonfire there. Exceedingly warm, muggy day. More thunder to come I should think.

V+1

Also a general holiday. Cycled back to Woodford and went straight to bed. Got up at 4 o’clock and had tea. It rained a little as I came in. Got to the National Gallery at 1800 but JG didn’t turn up till nearly 1900 owing to the crowds so I listened to the bells of St Martin’s peeling out and also playing hymns and watched the crowd dancing and singing in the Square.

When he arrived we went off to Piccadilly where we pitched into beer and sherry and got pleasantly tight. Then had dinner with more beer and whiskey and finished off with brandy. Then drifted down to the Ministry of Health where there was another enormous crowd and waited there from 2130 to 2245 when Churchill came out. Chanted “we want Winnie” at intervals and sang songs – Roll out the Barrel, Daisy, There’ll Always be an England, Land of Hope and Glory, Keep the Home Fires Burning, Tipperary, Pack up your Troubles etc.

Got talking to a small boy and his young mother and several other people. Churchill came just after the floodlights went up and got a simply terrific reception. We yelled ourselves hoarse all through his speech, especially when he said “And let us not forget our great navy” and “God bless you all”. And we yelled for about 5 minutes at the end. Then went through the Park to the Palace where there was another enormous crowd. Flares and firecrackers too. The King and Queen came out just after we got there.

Eventually got back to Trafalgar Square and I took J up on Admiralty Arch. We then joined in songs in the Square and eventually he jumped a lift to Liverpool St and I went into Admiralty canteen to get some tea. Came back via Whitehall, the Embankment, St Paul’s. After the West End the City was blacked out, there was barely a light showing in Stratford and Wanstead. Got to bed by 0200.

After the war, Glyn returned to Merthyr to run the family business, a manufacturers’ agents, with his brother Clive – my father. Also as a talented musician, he was the organist and choirmaster at Christ Church, Cyfarthfa, for nearly 25 years. He died after a long illness in 1994.

Merthyr Memories: Tramroadside North Memories

by Christine Brewer (née Williams)

I was born on Tramroadside North during the War, and I spent all of my early life there. The Tramroadside North I remember from that time bares very little resemblance to the same area today – it has been developed beyond recognition.

The part of Tramroadside North that I am talking about, or ‘The Tramroad’ as it’s more commonly known, is the road that runs between Church Street and what was known as Harris’ Hill – roughly where the Tesco roundabout is today. When I was growing up, the road was much narrower and was lined on both sides with small houses and cottages.

A map showing Tramroadside North (marked in yellow)

On the side of the road nearest the Railway Station were also several ‘courts’ of houses: Joseph’s Court, Vaughan’s Court and Rosser’s Court. There was also a pub, The Tydfil Arms, and we also had a green-grocer’s shop and a small ‘front-room shop’ in one of the houses.

An aerial view showing the top part of the Tramroad. The Tydfil Arms is at the centre of the photo (the larger white building). Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

When I was a child I clearly remember the old tram-lines running down the middle of the road, the trams had stopped running years before of course, and I also remember the air-raid shelter near the lane up to Thomas Street. I often wondered how effective this would have been in an air-raid as it was quite a flimsy brick-built building just built at the side of the road.

The Tramroad decorated for the coronation of King George VI in 1937. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

Most of the families who lived on the Tramroad had lived there for generations, and we were a community all of our own. Everyone knew everyone else, and I could tell you who lived in almost every house. I was born in a very small two up, one down cottage – the youngest of five children, so when I was young I went to live with my aunt who had more room. She lived at the bottom end of the Tramroad, and had huge garden which stretched all the way back to the Station Yard. I clearly remember the animals being brought into the Station Yard before being taken to the abattoir, which was near the present day Farm Foods store.

There were, of course, some characters living on the Tramroad. One of our neighbours had a garden full of fantastic cabbages, and whenever anyone asked her about them, she would say that she had buried her husband’s ashes there, and that is what made them so big. Another lady, actually another one of my aunts, had a menagerie in her house. Whenever she came across an injured animal, she would take them in and care of them. Over the years I remember her having many wild birds, hedgehogs etc. At one time I even remember her having a fox-cub!

At the top of the Tramroad was Adulam Chapel. The chapel actually faced Lower Thomas Street, but the cemetery was on the Tramroad, and there was path to the chapel through the cemetery. I went to Adulam Chapel every Sunday, and I remember going to Sunday School in the vestry underneath the chapel and being taught the Lord’s Prayer in Welsh by the teacher Evan John Peters.

The Tramroad in the 1960’s with Adulam Chapel in the middle of the photo. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

Also underneath Adulam Chapel were two very small houses that shared a kitchen and toilet. When I was a little older, my sister married and moved into one of these houses. I dreaded going to see her as I would have to walk along a path through the cemetery to get to the house; I remember one occasion walking down the path and a boy jumping out at me from behind a grave – he thought it was one of his friends and wanted to frighten him…..he certainly frightened me!

Adulam Chapel. Left is the front of the Chapel on Thomas Street. Right is the back of the chapel on the Tramroad, showing the cemetery with the path (left) leading to the houses

So much has changed. Most of the houses have been demolished, and all of the courts, the Tydfil Arms and Adulam Chapel have all gone. It’s sad to look back and see all I remember disappeared.

Vaughan’s Court being demolished. Photo courtesy of http://www.alangeorge.co.uk/index.htm

Lord Evans of Merthyr Tydfil – Physician to the Queen

Last month we highlighted the career of Harry Evans – the great Merthyr musician. No less remarkable is the career of his son Horace Evans.

Horace Evans was born in Dowlais on 1 January 1903, the eldest son of Harry Evans and his wife Edith. When his father was appointed conductor of the Liverpool Welsh Choral Union that same year, the family moved to the city, and Horace was educated at Liverpool College. Following in his father’s footsteps, Horace originally decided on a musical career, and shortly after his father’s untimely death in 1914 he went to the Guildhall School of Music for four years and to the City of London School.

During his studies he realised that he wasn’t destined for a musical career, and decided his future lay in medicine. In 1921 Evans entered the London Hospital Medical College on a science scholarship. He qualified in 1925, graduated in medicine and surgery in 1928, and took his M.D. in 1930 when he became a member of the Royal College of Physicians and a fellow in 1938. This work merited his appointment as an assistant director of the medical unit in 1933, assistant physician to the London Hospital at Whitechapel in 1936, and physician in 1947. He worked under Arthur Ellis, who instructed him in the traditional English clinical discipline, and who brought him into prominence by selecting him as house physician to the medical unit. Subsequently he held appointments in surgery, obstetrics, pathology and anaesthetics, which gave him a broad basis for a career as a general physician.

He specialised in the effects of high blood pressure and diseases of the kidneys, making a thorough study of Bright’s disease, on which he published papers in medical and scientific journals. In addition he was consultant physician to five other hospitals and to the Royal Navy. It was through his influence that the Royal College of Physicians was moved from Trafalgar Square, having attracted the financial support of the Wolfson Foundation towards the cost of erecting new buildings at Regent’s Park.

He served the royal family as physician to Queen Mary in 1946, to King George VI in 1949 and to Queen Elizabeth in 1952, all of whom received him as a friend. He was knighted in 1949, and created a baron in 1957. In 1955 he delivered the Croonian lectures and was made Honorary Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons in 1961. The University of Wales conferred on him an honorary D.Sc. degree and he was made a freeman of Merthyr Tydfil in April 1962.

Sir Horace Evans. Photo courtesy of The National Portrait Gallery (ref NPG x167429)

He was regarded as the last of the great general physicians of his age, convinced of the need for personal physicians with a critical judgement based on broad general experience, and of the importance of treating patients as human beings. His presence in a patient’s room or hospital ward left an immediate impression on every one who came into contact with him. His sympathy and understanding stemmed largely from his own family experiences.

Horace Evans had married Helen Aldwyth Davies, daughter of a former high-sheriff of Glamorgan in 1929, and they had two daughters. His younger daughter died in tragic circumstances after accidentally electrocuting herself, and his wife suffered prolonged ill health.

Horace Evans died on 26 October 1963 at the age of 60. Following his death, the Royal College of Physycians published an obituary which contained the following accolade:

“The death of Lord Evans in October 1963 cast gloom over the College. No more would we see his tall, slightly stooping figure, and behind the lightly horn-rimmed glasses the alert but kindly eyes that inspired confidence in patients and assured a welcome to every colleague. Few men carried high honours so gracefully.”