Meeting of the Parliament 08 May 2025
Eighty years ago, the world exhaled when the guns across Europe fell silent, because VE day marked not just victory but our survival—a freedom reclaimed and a future made possible.
This day always brings me back to my grandfather—my Pa—who fought in the war. When I was a wee girl, he would tell me stories of his time as a soldier, although I realise now that the stories were very heavily filtered for my young mind. He was a great storyteller, and it seemed to me that war was his great adventure—racing from exploding bridges, laughing with his soldier pals and falling in love with my gran through letters passed across their worlds.
For my young mind, he made it all into a Hollywood movie version. There is one particular story that he told that has stuck with me, and I have grown to understand and find deeper meaning in it. He told me that, when the soldiers were lined up for religious observance, names were called out of particular religions—Catholic, Baptist, Church of England—but my Pa would be left standing, so he would be asked, “Well, what religion are you?” He would straighten his shoulders, with his chin up, and proudly exclaim, “Church of Scotland, sir”. That always made us giggle as a family when I was little, but as I have grown up, I can see that there was more to it than just a wee funny story. In that moment, he was telling us about a deep sense of identity—a sense of belonging—that mattered very much to him. He was there proudly fighting for his country and for his people back home in Scotland.
When he was stationed in Italy, my gran was serving here at home as a firewoman, and their love story spanned war zones. I still have the love letters that they exchanged, which are filled with words of longing and hope and with plenty of the word “darling”. They dreamed of being reunited and of their future together, and thanks to VE day, they got that chance.
My dad and I are compiling those stories so that we do not lose them to time, but when I recall them now, with my adult mind, I can see the parts that my grandfather had omitted—the fear, the horror and those soldier pals who did not make it home. That is a reality that he chose to shield me from.
We must mark VE day not just as a celebration but as a solemn reminder. We are here today because our relatives survived, but many never came home. From Scotland alone, 57,000 armed forces personnel lost their lives, and millions more lives were lost across the world. They sacrificed not just their lives but their future posterity.
As we honour the efforts of Royal British Legion Scotland and Poppyscotland, which have beautifully marked this 80th anniversary with Scotland’s salute to VE day, it is important that we also acknowledge the deeper meaning behind those tributes. The concerts, the gatherings and the red poppies are not just about looking back with pride but about carrying forward a warning. Remembrance is not passive. It is a deep responsibility that rests on the shoulders of posterity, of those who survived.
At a time when war once again rages in parts of Europe, when hatred is on the rise and democracy and peace feel very fragile, we must learn from the past. Those people fought for a world for us to build, not to destroy. We must remember how we got into that war in the first place and what it cost, but we must also remember how we came back from it.
VE day should never have to be repeated. We should let it remain a celebration of hard-won peace and protect that with everything that we have. For the futures that ended too soon, and for those who never got to be, let us mark this 80th anniversary not only with words but with purpose, and let it be a thank you, but also a promise.
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