Vera ‘there for us boys’

WHEN I first interviewed Dame Vera Lynn five years ago she was leafing through one of her treasured photo albums.

The fading snapshots showed her dressed in khaki, laughing and chatting with crowds of soldiers.

In some they were sipping mugs of tea or Vera was autographing their caps.

But others showed her sitting at the bedsides of injured men, holding their hands and telling them news from England.

“I still dream about those boys, you know,” she told me, gently touching the photographs. “And I’ve never stopped wondering how many never made it home.” “Those boys” were members of the Forgotten Army – the Fourteenth – whose valiant efforts in Burma and India went largely overlooked during and after the Second World War.

And the cheery snaps from 1944 concealed Vera’s own enormous bravery in visiting them in the jungle as the bloody Battle of Kohima raged on.

I didn’t understand the danger she put herself in though. Because modest Dame Vera, who has died at the age of 103, always shrugged off her extraordinary efforts, saying: “I just wanted to make a difference.” So it was

I WAS surprised to see how many racing fans got tarted up for the first virtual Royal Ascot.

With the five-day festival being held behind closed doors they were determined to recreate the Ascot atmosphere in their own homes.

So out came the fancy frocks and fascinators with champagne picnics in front of the telly.

I’ve only been to Ascot once but decided against recreating the experience – as I didn’t want ruined stilettos, blistered feet, proseccoinduced hangxiety and an empty bank account.

But I’ll bet you any money the Queen had her only when I met some Burma veterans last year that I really understood the Forces’ Sweetheart.

Yes, she was a morale booster. She represented home, and hope and her songs convinced them they WOULD meet their loved ones again.

But the fact that she’d flown 11,500 miles with just a pistol, a piano and a pianist to camp out with them and wash in a bucket won their respect as well as their love.

“She earned her Burma Star just like the rest of us,” said one veteran, referring to the campaign medal Dame Vera was finally presented with in 1985.

“Vera knew we needed her and nothing was going to stop her coming. She sang her heart out for us. And after the war she kept on fighting for us, for military charities and for war widows.”

I spoke with Dame Vera again in April, before the 75th anniversary of VE Day.

But she reminded me that VJ Day marked the real end of the war for troops in the Far East.

Sadly, Dame Vera will not be here to lead our tributes on August 15.

But the Forces’ Sweetheart never forgot the faces or sacrifices of her boys.

And soon, somewhere, I pray they’ll meet again.

best Ascot EVER. She normally has to don yet another fluorescent outfit, do all that waving and smiling on the way, then talk to people and present trophies when she just wants to study form and watch the races.

I can picture her plonked on a sofa at Windsor Castle, TV remote in one hand, gin and Dubonnet in the other, cheering on her horses at the top of her voice.

And hat’s off to you, Ma’am!