Editor

I was born on 12 April 1940 in Meurig House, Doldre, Tregaron; my parents were Gladys and Tom Jones and next door in Bradford House lived Aunty Hannah and Uncle Miah.

Naturally my memories of the war are very vague, although I recall many American troops arriving in convoy and ‘bivouacking’ in the cattle ‘mart’ grounds; also a British aircraft force landing in a field at the edge of town.

However I clearly recall the morning of 9 May 1945 as if it was yesterday. I was having my breakfast when my uncle, from next door who was also my godfather, came in and said, in Welsh, “Come on Evan, we are going up to the church”.

This happened every Sunday as he was the caretaker and bell ringer and I always went with him, but as this was a weekday I wondered why we were going.

However, I followed. Half way to church the local blacksmith ‘Dan Go’ was leaning on the window ledge outside his house enjoying a cup of tea and his pipe. He was also mystified as to why we were on our way to church.

On arrival, instead of me getting ready to hand out hymn and prayer books and my uncle to start ringing the bell, we climbed the stone steps to the top of the tower. Here he unfurled a flag which he attached to the flagpole and told me to hold the rope and pull it with him.

When the flag reached the top and was fixed, he turned to me and said that in future I would be able say that I had raised the flag on the church to celebrate the end of the World War.

On looking back I can now see the significance of this.

In the evening the family, including my sister Eleanor, were going to the celebrations in the square, but because of the loud fireworks I refused to continue, and ‘Mam’ had to take me home. These are the first events in my life that I can put an actual date to.

Evan Jones Tregaron

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