| Original caption: “This is an aerial view of the Arc de Triomphe in Paris on Victory in Europe Day, shows thousands of French people celebrating the announcement of Germany’s unconditional surrender to the Allies. British, American and French servicemen mingled with the crowds who sang and danced throughout the night.” The Arc de Triomphe is surrounded by Parisians in this aerial photo on Victory in Europe Day. Note people on the top of the monument and Allied flags under the arch. Technician 4th Grade Stephen Scalia (July 16, 1924 – July 15, 2015) was standing on top of the Arc de Triomphe in the heart of Paris, staring at the throngs of people on the boulevards below as they wound up a glorious day of celebration — dancing in the streets, splashing in the fountains, drinking the champagne they had hidden for years. Then suddenly, as night fell, the lights of Paris blinked on. For 6 years, Paris had been dark. But this day, Victory in Europe Day, marked the end of the war on the Continent. From 1 side of the city to the other, France’s most beloved monuments were once again illuminated: the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, Sacré Coeur, the Louvre. It was a heart-stopping moment. “Think of it!” Scalia says. “The war was over! It was a new day! The future was rosy! This had to be one of the spots to be in the world at that time.” Scalia wasn’t the only New Orleanian in Paris that day. United States Army Private Paul E. Bouchereau (August 28, 1918 – September 6, 2014), Headquarters Company, 508th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 82nd Airborne Infantry Division, was there, too, on the Champs-Elysées, catching his share of the revelry. So was United States Army Captain Abe Goldfarb (1918 – January 17, 2010), who staked out a spot near the Place de la Concorde and watched for hours as the triumphant parade passed by. The weather in Paris on Victory in Europe Day befitted the occasion, with brilliant sunshine and clear blue skies. Bouchereau started out early in the morning, making his way through the center of the city, and already the Champs-Elysées was the scene of a raucous party. The crowds were thick and loud and happy. Cafés sent waiters into the street with trays full of food for anyone who wanted it. Liquor flowed freely, and everyone with a glass had it refilled all day long. Thousands of flags, mostly French and American, fluttered and snapped and waved. Jeeps overloaded with soldiers and civilians made their way slowly down the street. Children perched on their parents’ shoulders, while adults scrambled up lampposts to get a better view of the scene. Single flowers were handed out to passersby at random. The men, for the most part, wore coats and ties. The women, in the fashion of the day, wore short skirts and platform shoes, piled their hair on top of their heads, and used bright red lipstick. Everybody put their inhibitions on hold. “That was an experience out of this world,” Bouchereau says. “I have seen a lot of celebrations to compare it with. But there was nothing like Victory in Europe Day. The French treated every American soldier like he had personally won the war. Their gratitude, their enthusiasm, their exuberance—1 will never forget it. We were the heroes of the day. There was no doubt about it.” Veterans of World War I donned their old uniforms and shook hands with the new generation of soldiers. Teenagers strutted down the street in formation, arm in arm, 25 abreast. French men, Bouchereau says, would stop him, slap him on the back and thank him: “Merci, merci.” But today, it is the young women of Paris Bouchereau remembers best — the chic young women who walked up to him, kissed him smack on the lips, and then moved on, 1 after another. “They were young and beautiful,” he says, “and they felt we had won the war just for them. Their eyes were shining – bright and shining. And the expression on their faces: They were so happy this war had come to an end. It was one wild day.” Goldfarb spent most of the day at the parade, arriving midmorning about the time it began. At the head of it were the Free French – underground workers who had resisted the Nazis and continued to fight even after the German occupation. They were followed by scores of units, French and American, marching in precision in their dress uniforms. Between them marched flag bearers and bands playing martial music. As the parade got going, the crowd did, too. “The crowd just got bigger and bigger and thicker and thicker and louder and louder,” Goldfarb says. But the high point of the parade was reached when a single open vehicle carrying French General Charles de Gaulle (November 22, 1890 – November 9, 1970), Chairman of the Provisional Government of the French Republic, and United States Army General Dwight D. “Ike” Eisenhower (October 14, 1890 – March 28, 1969), Commander of the Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force (SHAEF), drove into view. “They were bigger than life,” Goldfarb says. “Sort of majestic. Impressive and military and straight-up. They looked very much like leaders. There he was, Le grand Charles-waving, waving, gesticulating, once or twice saluting. And, of course, Eisenhower, the commander of all the Allied forces. The crowd was tumultuous when they came by. Ecstatic. You heard a lot of ‘Vive de Gaulle, Vive Eisenhower, Vive la France, Vive l’Amerique.’ It was a thrill.” Finally, at the end of the day in Paris, after all the parading, kissing, drinking, dancing, and delirium, there was the moment the lights came on. “We had climbed to the top of the Arc de Triomphe — I think there were two hundred and sixty-one steps,” Scalia says. “And you could see almost all the city. It’s like seeing a map of Paris. The crowds stretched all the way to the Concorde, as far as you could see. And there were fireworks on the Seine. Looking back, it was one of the pivotal points of my life. I cannot think of another thing that compares to it.” Neither could Goldfarb, who completed the day with a fine French dinner at an American officers’ club in the heart of the city. And neither could Bouchereau, a combat veteran who felt, more than anything, a sense of relief. “I was alive!” he says. “And I was going to stay alive. Before that, I never knew when it would all be over for me. Now I knew I had it made. I knew what I had been through, what the whole world had been through. I recognized this was a historic day. Probably the most historic day I would ever experience. I knew this was the high point of my life.” Photo by Associated Press photographer Henry L. Griffin (May 19 1916 – August 22, 1992). He accompanied the 1st United States Army troops into Berlin. Griffin accompanied American Ambassador Arthur Bliss Lane (June 16, 1894 – August 12, 1956) and his wife, Cornelia Thayer Baldwin Lane (March 20, 1892 – November 18, 1994) with United States Army officers as they inspected the wrecked city of Warsaw. The entourage visited the former United States Embassy; its “shell splattered” walls were all that remained. Griffin flew in an aircraft over the area of the Warsaw Ghetto, and the only recognizable landmark was Kościół Swięty Augustyna w Warszawie (“Church of Saint Augustine”) a Catholic Church that was within the confines of the Warsaw Ghetto. It was the only building the Nazi Germans left standing. He later fell from United States President Harry S. Truman’s (May 8, 1884 – December 26, 1972) Douglas VC-54C Spymaster “Sacred Cow” breaking 6 ribs. When Truman asked if he needed anything, he asked for beer in his hotel room. This began a lifelong friendship between the 2 men. | |
| Image Filename | wwii0894.jpg |
| Image Size | 888.25 KB |
| Image Dimensions | 3000 x 2336 |
| Photographer | Henry L. Griffin |
| Photographer Title | |
| Caption Author | Written or Adapted by Jason McDonald |
| Date Photographed | May 8, 1945 |
| Location | |
| City | Paris |
| State or Province | Île-de-France |
| Country | France |
| Archive | |
| Record Number | |
| Status | Caption ©2026 MFA Productions LLC Please Do Not Duplicate or Distribute Without Permission; Image in the Public Domain |
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