“While firemen had climbed ladders into Hell and snatched children from the encroaching arms of Death, we, the children of England, had sat sleepily in shelters, safe from incendiaries which might explode.”

So wrote an anonymous QEH pupil in the July 1945 edition of The Elizabethan, reflecting on the contrast between the lived experiences of those on the frontlines and the younger generation who inherited peace. On VE Day, we pause to honour that sacrifice — to remember those who faced war, endured its hardship, and gave their lives so that future generations might live in freedom.

At QEH, the war left its mark not only on bricks and mortar, but on memory, tradition, and community. Today, we reflect on those times and give thanks for the resilience of those who went before us.

School Under Siege: QEH During the Blitz

Throughout the war, QEH remained open, even as Bristol endured one of the worst bombing campaigns outside London. In December 1940, the school suffered blast damage during the Christmas holidays, but this did little to interrupt its operation. Fire-watching patrols were established, and pupils were trained to deal with incendiaries bombs — including, on occasion, kicking them from the roof.

Peter Stewart (OE, 1939–1945) captured the surreal normality of school life during wartime:

“Bird were playing Hartnell on the school field when a German JG88 reconnaissance aircraft flew overhead. I alerted Mr Gill, the Master in charge. Without flinching, he looked up and said, ‘Will you shut up, Stewart, and wait until the end of the over!’”

It was a moment of British resolve and humour — a cricket match continued under the shadow of war, held together by the calm leadership of Edgar Gill.

The ATC: Training for Service

The QEH Air Training Corps (ATC), formed during the war and led by Mr Gill, gave pupils the chance to contribute directly to the national effort. It instilled discipline, pride, and a deep sense of responsibility.

Generations of pupils took part, some going on to serve in the RAF or other branches of the military. Their dedication reflected the strength of character, camaraderie, and quiet determination fostered during their time at QEH.

On 8 May 1945, the news broke — Germany had surrendered. The war in Europe was over. The country erupted in celebration, and so did QEH.

Ron Dell (OE, 1940–1947) remembered the moment vividly:

“There was a real spirit of neighbourliness and rejoicing all round. Trestle tables appeared in the streets as if by magic… people prepared teas from what little they had. The exhilaration was tinged just a little by the realisation that the war in the Far East was not yet over.”

Another OE offered a more personal and poetic account:

“I felt as I had never felt before… My spirit stretched beyond my tangible surroundings of rejoicing with a vigorous love for all mankind. I floated on a sea of glorious cushions. My dreams had come true.”

Yet even this moment of euphoria ended quietly:

“I reached home disappointed. My dream was over. School tomorrow. I had lived, but I was back where I started.”

Rebuilding After War

Peace did not mean rest. For pupils like Ron Dell, VE Day was followed by summer harvest camps in Cardiganshire, where QEH boys helped farmers gather crops, often working alongside Italian prisoners of war.

“We were billeted in a local school. Classrooms became dormitories, and Mrs Richardson, wife of the science master, led the catering effort. It was hard work, but it felt worthwhile.”

Even as the nation rejoiced, QEH boys were already helping to rebuild it.

What We Remember Today

As we walk through QEH today — past classrooms, playing fields, and corridors that once echoed with the sound of sirens — we are acutely aware of the legacy we carry.

The freedoms we enjoy were not free; they were earned by the vigilance, bravery, and sacrifice of those who came before us.

We remember their courage.
We honour their stories.
We strive to be worthy of their peace.

QEH School

Celebrating The 80th Anniversary of VE Day.