Once were the enemy

John Watson

The coverage of the 70th anniversary of the D-Day landings was everything one would expect: the beaches crowded with world leaders, paratroopers dropping from the sky, veterans marching and wreaths being laid that would bring a tear to the driest eye.

It all reminds us that we owe our freedom and our way of life to those who fought that day.

In my case, however, there is something else. I also owe them several pints of good Dutch beer.

It was 1970, and I was enjoying a gap-year trip to the Continent with a friend. In those days students were not the disciplined, well-groomed young people they are now and droopy moustaches and unkempt hair were the order of the day.

In fact, the trip was about as carefully planned as the hair, so late one evening we found ourselves pitching a tent in a field near a Dutch village whose name we did not know and setting off in the dark to see if we could find a drink.

It was chilly so we were pleased to see the welcoming lights of a bar. There were people drinking inside, so we tried the door. It was locked, but one of the drinkers opened it and explained that the bar was closed and there was now only a private party for the landlord's friends.

As we turned away and began to walk down the path, there was a flurry of conversation in the bar and someone called out after us, "Where are you from?"

"England," I replied.

"Then you will both drink free here tonight," came the astonishing response.

It was a great evening and they were delightful hosts. I have no idea how much we drank, but I'm sure that it was not as much as we were offered. You see they remembered being liberated and the Allies who had restored their freedom. There was no way they were going to let two British boys walk thirsty into the dark.

And as we drank the beer we were conscious that it was other men who had earned it; men who could not be there that night. So we, representing them as best we could, drank the ice-cold Dutch beer on their behalf.

That, of course, was only 25 years after the end of the war and, since then, things have moved on. It is not that the sacrifice of those who fought has been forgotten - occasions like the commemorations earlier this month see to that - but that the honesty with which the German nation has acknowledged its past and the determination with which it has condemned it has meant it is no longer an enemy.

It cannot have been easy. I remember a very wise German woman explaining it to me:

"You see," she said, "in England you have many things to be proud of. A regiment marches down the street and people cheer. In Germany things are different. We turn our heads away and are ashamed."

So as we marvel at the logistics of D-Day and give thanks to the courage and sacrifice of the Allies, we should also remember the healing that has gone on since then and raise a glass to the new generations of Germans and the transformation they have wrought.

Before retiring, John Watson was a partner in an international law firm. He now writes from Islington, London.