While browsing through a flea market about a decade ago, a document datelined 1945 from the Hopewell Township Public Schools in Pennington, New Jersey, grabbed my attention.

The supervising principal, William S. Twichell, was writing to parents about the district’s revised plans for victory celebrations to mark the end of World War II.

The letter stated that if confirmation of the end of the war occurred during the night, there would be no school the following day and that a student celebration would be held in the auditorium on the first day back.

“Please join with us in warning the children of the necessity for extreme caution in crossing streets and walking along the roads on V-E Day, the principal advised. “There will undoubtedly be a great increase in traffic and there may also be some irresponsible speeding.”

Last weekend was the 75th anniversary of V-J Day, marking both the surrender of Japan and the end of World War II, the most destructive war in history, which claimed more than 400,000 American lives and an estimated 65 million people worldwide.

Outside of Fox News, the major networks and newspapers gave the landmark anniversary little attention.

When then President Harry Truman announced the acceptance of Japan’s surrender on the evening of Aug. 14, it sparked an emotional tidal wave across the nation. Life magazine reported that Americans celebrated “as if joy had been rationed and saved up for three years, eight months and seven days since December 7, 1941.”

Historian Donald L. Miller reflected that trying to assess the impact of World War II “was too much death to contemplate, too much savagery and suffering; and in August 1945 no one was counting.”

After the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, which forced the Japanese military to accept unconditional surrender terms on Aug. 14, Americans were euphoric that the carnage was suddenly over. An anticipated invasion of the Japanese mainland by war-weary veterans of the European theater was estimated to cost thousands of American lives and millions of Japanese.

Americans were also relieved that Japan’s surrender meant an end to rationing of everything from gasoline to food and there would be no more blackouts or round-the-clock watches for enemy planes or submarines. The nation’s factories, which had retooled to turn out bombers, tanks and rifles for the war effort, could now reconvert to producing the automobiles, household appliances and televisions, products that would make America the envy of the industrialized free world.

Small towns across America celebrated with marching bands, fireworks, confetti and impromptu parades down Main Street. Citizens waved their flags, relishing the moment Americans had hoped for since the attack on Pearl Harbor.

In contrast to what we’re seeing today, large cities were caught up in a patriotic fervor.

• In New York City, 2 million people squeezed into Times Square and after the announcement flashed across the electronic ticker, a “victory roar” erupted that lasted for 20 minutes. Music and dancing broke out in the streets, sailors climbed lampposts, unfurling American flags as confetti rained down upon the throngs gathered to celebrate.

• In downtown Chicago, a half-million people crowded into the Loop, singing and dancing down the main streets. One reveler climbed a ladder to light an 18-foot-tall solid wax victory candle that had taken three months to make. In the Chinatown district, a ceremonial dragon dance marked China’s liberation from a long, brutal occupation.

• In Washington, D.C., crowds gathered to congratulate President Truman and paraded around town.

These celebrations of August 1945 marked an unparalleled time of national unity and patriotism.

According to the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, an estimated 300,000 U.S. World War II veterans are still alive today, a drastic reduction from the 939,000 who were with us in 2015.

These men and women who fought so hard to protect our cherished liberties are called the “Greatest Generation” for good reason.

There was no contempt for the U.S. flag or for authority and the rule of law. “Political correctness” was an unknown phrase, its ugly appearance in the American lexicon still a half century away.

By Jim Zbick | tneditor@tnonline.com