Monument to the Women of World War II
The Monument to the Women of World War II stands on Whitehall in the heart of London, a striking and deeply moving bronze sculpture that pays tribute to the seven million women who served Britain during the Second World War between 1939 and 1945. Unveiled on 9 July 2005 by Queen Elizabeth II, the memorial was commissioned by the Trustees of the Memorial to the Women of World War II and sculpted by John Mills. It occupies a prominent position along one of London's most historically charged avenues, surrounded by the great offices of state and other national monuments. The memorial is remarkable in that it honours not just women in uniform but all who contributed to the war effort, whether in factories, on farms, as nurses, code-breakers, or in the hundreds of other roles women took on as men went to fight. It is considered one of the most important war memorials added to the national landscape in the early twenty-first century.
The monument takes the form of a tall bronze plinth from which hang seventeen sets of clothing — uniforms, overalls, and working garments — each representing a different role women performed during the conflict. The coats, jackets, caps, and aprons hang empty and lifelike, as if their wearers have just stepped away, a deliberately poignant artistic choice that simultaneously evokes presence and absence, sacrifice and service. The sculpture stands approximately six metres tall, and its surface carries the rich, dark patina typical of aged bronze, giving it gravitas and permanence. The empty garments are not idealized or romanticized but practical and worn-looking, which gives the memorial an immediacy that more conventional statuary often lacks. There is no face to identify with, no named hero — instead, every visitor is invited to imagine the woman who wore each garment, which makes the tribute universal and deeply personal at the same time.
The campaign to build the memorial was a long one, driven largely by Baroness Betty Boothroyd and other advocates who felt that the extraordinary contribution of women during wartime had been chronically overlooked by official commemoration. Fundraising began in earnest in the late 1990s, drawing contributions from thousands of individual donors, veterans' organizations, corporations, and the government. The decision to place the monument on Whitehall rather than elsewhere in London was significant, as Whitehall is the symbolic spine of British governance and military memory, its verges lined with monuments to the wars of the twentieth century. Positioning this tribute there placed women's service firmly within the mainstream of national remembrance rather than at its margins.
Whitehall itself is one of the most atmospheric streets in London, and visiting the monument means walking through a corridor of history. Looking north from the memorial, one sees the Cenotaph — the nation's principal memorial to all who died in both World Wars — just a short distance away. Downing Street lies nearby, as does Horse Guards Parade, the Ministry of Defence, and the entrance to the Cabinet War Rooms where Churchill directed much of Britain's wartime strategy from underground bunkers. The area has a formality and grandeur that feels appropriate for reflection, though it is also one of London's busiest thoroughfares, with the sounds of traffic, tourists, and the occasional clip of horses' hooves from the Household Cavalry forming a constant backdrop.
The physical experience of standing before the memorial is quietly powerful. Visitors often pause and walk slowly around it, studying each garment — recognising a nurse's uniform, a land girl's breeches, a WREN's tunic. It is not uncommon to see elderly visitors in particular standing in long silence, and flowers or small personal tributes are sometimes left at its base around anniversaries and Remembrance Sunday in November. On grey London days, the dark bronze seems almost to absorb the light, while on bright mornings the metal catches the sun and the garments appear almost animated. The inscription on the plinth reads simply: "The Women of World War II."
Getting to the monument is straightforward. Westminster and Charing Cross are the nearest Underground and rail stations respectively, and Whitehall is readily accessible on foot from both. Numerous bus routes run along Whitehall and Parliament Street. The monument is on a public pavement and is freely accessible at any hour of day or night, with no entrance fees or barriers. It is well suited to visitors with mobility considerations as it sits on level ground beside the road. The best times to visit for a quiet, contemplative experience are early morning or on weekdays outside of tourist season, as Whitehall can become very busy with sightseers and government workers during peak hours.
One of the more fascinating aspects of the memorial is how deliberately it resists the conventions of heroic public sculpture. There are no figures in triumphant poses, no commanding generals, no allegorical female figures representing Victory or Britannia. The decision to render clothing without bodies was not just artistic — it was philosophical, an acknowledgment that these women were not mythological figures but ordinary people who did extraordinary things and then, for the most part, stepped quietly back into civilian life when the war ended. In that sense the empty uniforms are also a comment on erasure, on how history has so often failed to preserve the stories of women's wartime labour as vividly as it has preserved those of men in combat. The monument, in its quiet, purposeful way, insists on correction.