When catastrophic World War Two finally ended in 1945, much of Europe, North Africa, and Asia lay in ruins.

Infrastructural devastation apart, millions of people had been killed or maimed. Hope was in short supply.

Britain, which entered the war as the world’s foremost imperial/colonial power, was, like the rest of Europe, struggling to cope in the aftermath of the most horrendous conflict in human history.

Crucially, rebuilding was very difficult because of extreme labour shortages.

That’s how it was that Great Britain turned to its colonies, importing hundreds of thousands of people from its vast empire in quest of a rebirth of sorts.

Blacks and browns, from Jamaica, the wider Caribbean, Africa, and Asia, flocked to the unknown. Unfazed by the prospect of hard work — much of it menial — they yearned for a better life, not just for themselves in a new land, but for relatives left behind.

Starting in the late 1940s, that mass migration to Britain lasted through the ’50s, ’60’s, and even into the ’70s.

The newcomers, mostly from warm climes, struggled to find comfort in a mostly frigid place. Perhaps understandably, their white hosts were often not welcoming.

Ignorance and racism are bedfellows and the migrants felt the brunt, not least in woefully inadequate housing.

Many, if not most of the newcomers, were poorly educated, so their stories were not routinely told. British media, sometimes hostile, showed minimal interest.

To survive, the migrants overcame language and cultural barriers to embrace and support each other as best they could. Recognising, perhaps unspoken, that without joined hands defeat was inevitable.

Those from Jamaica and the wider English-speaking Caribbean who crossed the Atlantic over those first 20-odd years became known, over time, as the Windrush Generation.

The name references a ship, MV Empire Windrush, which docked at Tilbury, England, on June 22, 1948 with hundreds of people from Jamaica and its Caribbean neighbours.

Much, but certainly not enough, has been written and said about those courageous pioneers who braved the unknown, facing down revulsion and hostility, to play their part in the construction of today’s Britain.

We say ‘nuff respect’ to Trinidadian researcher Dr Rachel-Ann Charles of Birmingham City University in England who is striving to contribute to the story of the Windrush Generation by sourcing letters written decades ago to family and friends in the Caribbean.

Her desire is to give “insights” of “hard-working individuals, often holding multiple jobs” in service to their adopted country, countering British media portrayal at the time of Caribbean people as a burden on society.

Dr Charles’ example reminds us of the responsibility of local university researchers and journalists to play their part in that story telling.

Though disappearing fast with the passage of time, some of those pioneers are still with us — some having invested life savings to spend their final years in the land of their birth.

Those among us with the relevant skills, including journalists and researchers, should be telling those stories.

Of course, migration in search of greener pastures didn’t begin with Britain. Going back in excess of 150 years our people have travelled in droves to Central and South America, Cuba, and, very importantly, North America. Our mark is indelible far and wide.

Sadly, far too much has never been told. This generation should correct that.