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Times Square, when I ascended to it with my fellow subway travellers ( all dressed as if for a huge wedding in a family of which we were all distant members ), was nearly impassable, the sidewalks swarming with celebrants, with bundled up sailors and soldiers already hugging their girls and their rationed bottles of whiskey.

Heavy-coated, severe-looking policemen sat astride noble horses along the curbside to prevent the revellers from spilling out in front of the crawling traffic.

The night was cold but the crowd kept one warm.

The giant electric signs and marquees were lit up for the first time since blackout regulations had been instituted, and the atmosphere was alive with the feeling that victory was just around the corner.

Cardboard noisemakers, substitutes for the unavailable tin models, were being hawked and bought at makeshift stands every few yards along Broadway, and one's ears were continually serenaded by the horns' rasps and bleats.

An old gentlemen next to me held a Boy Scout bugle to his lips and blasted away at every fourth step and during the interim shouted out, `` V for Victory ''!!

His neighbors cheered him on.

There was a great sense of camaraderie.

How did one join them??

Where were they all walking to??

Was I supposed to buy a funny hat and a rattle for Jessica??