A thunder storm was approaching from the west, but if to allow for the greater storm which was to come the rain clouds rolled away leaving the clear air and washed streets for the night's revellers. The first news of course, came to a pressman who after the manner of his kind, deemed it his religious duty to tell everybody else. The red envelope which was known to contain joyous news within was torn open with expectant fingers.

The telegram read "Sydney, 7.15pm. "Witness" Office, Young. (Reuter), Vancouver, Monday, - Paris Official,- Armistice signed,- Reuter. Received at Young 7.30pm."

The mayor with several leading citizens shouted the news from a balcony, but few heard what was said.

Light rain was falling, but nobody sought shelter, soon the din was intense. People on the outskirts of town heard, and soon fathers, and mothers, bringing along the kids, flocked into the town.

By 9.30 the scene "beggared description" if anything in this old town of Young ever did.

The gathering of people must have numbered four thousand. Every second or so there was fireworks or ringing of cowbells, processions came from nowhere.

Led by men and women beating a petrol tin - beat it into the likeness of a concertina.

Every other person let all ages and all ranks, they marched about, singing patriotic songs, waved flags and cheered.

"Tipperary" the marching song of the early days of the war, seemed to be the most popular on Monday night.

It and other patriotic songs were sung in fifty different processions.

In some cases large flags were carried at the head of the procession. The night was one joyous, spontaneous expression of delight.

There had been no rehearsal.

"Isn't it just heavenly?" remarked a voice in a procession of gay young girls.

An explosion at their feet from a cracker thrown amongst them amidst the din of the tin can bands, suggested that it was quite another place beginning with the same alphabetical letter.

"Come on , the bombs won't hurt us tonight," shouted one of them, and the merry faces passed along.

A returned man with a small flag brushed his bit of rag over the faces of everyone he passed.

"It is the flag of peace," he told them and carried on.

News from "The Witness" Office was read from the lamp post when a slight lull took place. Soldiers climbed the post, sang songs, or recited to the approving crowds.

The night mail was met by people who demonstrated at the railway.

Up until 1.00am there was not the least sign of abatement.

The tin can bands, the crackers, the cheering crowds were going strong at that hour. At 2am, another visit was made to the railway station. A train was at the station. Several boarded the engine and the cock-a-doodle-doos which resounded for about 20 minutes are beyond description. Morning come, and still found many of the revellers in the streets.

Tuesday had been proclaimed a public holiday by the federal government. Flags were hoisted on nearly all the public buildings and business houses. Round the town flags waved from the chimney tops, from trees in the garden or decorated verandahs. By order of the mayor, a procession of some thousands of people formed up at the Town Hall.

Everybody was there - old and young, rich and poor, all assembled for the one glad purpose.

The procession spread to the pavement on either side of the street and was about a quarter mile in length. The great throng moved up Burrowa street, via Lynch, Cloete and Campbell streets to Carrington Park where a great service of thanksgiving was held. This articled sourced from the Young Witness, Friday 15 November 1918.