Chapter 9 - Wartime Experiences

Life during the war had it ups and downs. Mostly down, but the British Spirit shone through.

Christmas 1940 came and went, but the British spirit continued on, getting stronger with each new attack on their freedom and a community spirit blossomed as well, with everyone feeling that they should ‘do their bit for the war effort’.  There was never any thought of defeat at the hands of the Germans, and this dogged determination only became stronger as the war waged on.

We have seen already how children were sent from the cities in the south to safer areas, and soon everyone became used to dealing with such things as air-raid drills, carrying gas masks, black-outs, and reading all manner of leaflets and booklets telling the people how to best cope with the war at home. 

Rationing had already been in force for a number of items such as bacon, sugar, butter and meat, some since 1939, but in 1941 jam, cheese, canned food and other groceries were added to the list of restricted goods. Clothes were rationed from June 1941, but this would not have bothered the likes of Jane, who were quite used to making most of their own clothes in any case.

Other things, whilst not actually rationed were in short supply, such as soap, saucepans, and toothbrushes.  It was reported in America that there was ‘a shortage of everything except courage in Britain’.

The population was also urged to make other economies, such as their usage of fuel and electricity, by taking shallower baths and only turning lights on that were actually necessary.

Perhaps for the first time in the industrial world, recycling became necessary.  People were encouraged  to save waste paper for collection, and also empty jars and bottles.

  

Above all, there was the necessity to carry with you, your clothing ration book, points coupon book (later just called the Ration book), and National Registration Identity Card.  These last of Jane’s are reproduced here, although they are the ones we had in our possession when we eventually left England for sunnier climes.  I believe they were meant to be handed in, but by that time, who cared?  Not us.

For a number of reasons which can only be speculated upon, the flood of letters slowed somewhat from 1942 on.  This may have been due to a number of factors;  the fact that Jane got busier (if that was at all possible!) or the letters simply weren’t saved quite so assiduously by the family in Australia.  What is certain is the fact that they all got handed around, and everybody read each others’ letters.  It is perhaps not surprising then that some went missing.  Whatever the reason there are only twenty-four letters for the entire 1941 year, plus a couple of telegrams.  But more about them in due course.

Jane was always something of a Royalist at heart, and we start to see some of the glimmerings of that in her next letter. It would be fair to say that the Royal Family were treated somewhat more respectfully than they are today, and there were very few people who did not look to them for guidance, an example of how to behave; people respected them for what they represented, and the media treated them accordingly, with love and reverence. It is a shame that this is not still the case. But maybe there is a case for the cost of keeping up appearances....

It is June 1939, not long after Jane and Eric moved to Glasgow, and Jane had this to report:

 

I hope I write a sensible letter, but I doubt if I will, because I am listening to the arrival of the King and Queen at Southampton. It is very moving, I can assure you, with such cheering as I have never heard. I feel very British today, for a variety of reasons, and am just as excited as anyone else in the country, about the return of Their Majesties. They really are greatly loved and admired here, and there is always a loud cheer in the cinemas whenever they appear in a newsreel. I like them myself, though I haven’t ever seen them  yet. Well, now the commentary is finished and I can think more betterer.

 

And later, in March 1941: 

 

Such a thing happened yesterday �" I went to the dentist, and when I came out there was a crowd of people waiting all up and down the road, a couple of policemen directing the sudden rush of traffic (mostly prams) and lots of little flags in evidence.  I hung about waiting to see what was to happen, and then somebody mentioned the King and Queen!  So I hung about even harder, and sure enough two police on cycles then two enormous cars full of enormous policemen then a slightly less enormous car with the King and Queen in.  The King was looking most resplendent in Naval uniform, but I have never seen such an exhausted-looking man in my life.  He couldn’t even summon up the strength to smile and wave at the cheering people, but just gestured occasionally and nodded.  The good little Queen made up for it by smiling and waving vigorously all the time and seemed to include even the most distant people in her glance.  What a wonderful pair they are, dashing all over the country on tours of inspection and whatnot, and keeping in residence at Buckingham Palace despite the Blitz, and never ceasing to perform every possible and impossible kind of job.  Everyone is filled with admiration for both of them, and quite rightly so, too.  Specially me.  I gave a terrific cheer (quite the loudest of them all) and waved a very dirty hankie, then rushed off home filled with the desire to write and tell you, and large tears came pouring out for no known reason.  Snow came pouring down too, so I was able to bustle along with my head well down so no one could see me weeping like a silly a*s.  Heaven knows why because I was perfectly happy and excited about seeing the King and Queen like I’ve always wanted to.  It was very thrilling, I can tell you.

 

But wartime was not all standing about watching the King and Queen sail past.  There were things that happened of a much more sober nature, such as this episode in March 1941: 

 

We’ve had a nice quiet week, except for a few daytime warnings for reconnaissance planes.  There was a merry to-do today when a plane came snooping over to take photographs.  It was just at two, when I was getting Richard’s lunch, and there was no warning of any sort and suddenly the guns near the house started banging away in fine style.  The plane was brought down not far off, after I’d put Richard to bed I went to bring in the nappies from the line in the back green and found one on the ground.   I whisked it up and found a whacking great piece of shrapnel tangled up in it, and a jagged tear in the nappy.  It was lucky that only a nappy was hit, because I had my newest blue frock and the newly embroidered cushion cover on the line too, and they would have been a sad loss.

 

This was the time of The Blitz, and Jane’s letters had plenty to relate regarding air-raids and such: 

 

At this moment we are being blitzed a trifle, and still going merrily along after two hours of it.  The noise is very tiresome, and I shall be glad when it stops.  It is long past the Luftwaffe’s bedtime, anyway.  I’m almost alone, as Eric is out fire-watching, and I could wish he wasn’t. Christine (the Nanny) is asleep on the couch in here and I’ve just this minute wheeled my son’s cot into the sandbagged bedroom.  I don’t find this at all funny, especially as we had arranged to bathe and retire early tonight after a couple of late nights.  Last night Mrs Kreis (upstairs) came down to mind the family while we went out for a while.  Her husband was on duty (he’s in the RASC) and her radio had expired, so she was quite glad to come down.  I’m glad this fun and games didn’t start while we were a long way away.  I was round at Mrs Fraser’s, 2 streets away, when it started but ran home in 5 minutes, just in time to get in before the guns started spraying shrapnel all over the place.  Mr Fraser went off to hospital today.  He’s been planning the visit for a long time, and he says Mrs Fraser is directly responsible for the raid, because she kept saying that the minute he went away the raids would start again.  This is the first we’ve had for some weeks, and the moon is full and the weather fine, so I’m not surprised.

Now the lights have gone out, so I am writing by the firelight and sitting on the fender getting much too hot, so I think I’ll stop on this page.  It is after twelve now and I am fed up with this, I hope Eric is not getting too cold or anything out there.  Damn this business, and now the lights have gone I can’t do much.  I’d better get the candles and do a bit of knitting or something.  Here’s Eric now.

Now it’s one o'clock and I’ve made tea for the fire-watchers and drunk 3 large cups myself, and I feel all right again   When I went and opened the front door to call Eric to his tea when it was ready, the door was snatched briskly from my hand a smacked smartly back against the wall.  It has a big glass panel in it, but luckily it wasn’t broken.  I’ve got three candles and a little paraffin night-light all ranged along the mantelpiece and the fire is flaring up brightly, so I can see fairly well.  The noise is less intense now, so I have hopes of getting to bed some time or other �" maybe.  It seems I speak too soon, I can hear a fresh horde of blowflies arriving.  They come in waves, because we are too far from Germany for any planes to do more than pay a fleeting visit.  It strikes me that Hitler must have a terrific number of planes in the air just now, considering the ones that have been, are here now, and are coming in a minute.  May God strike down the whole blinking lot so that they never get back again, the dirty sweeps.  They seem to fancy Pollockshields just now.  I do hope you don’t mind me wandering on in aimless fashion, I find it so encouraging, and more absorbing than knitting or something that only uses half one’s mind.  There’s a lot of machine-gunning going on, but who’s doing it I can’t tell.  I rather wish Eric was in the house instead of out in the close.  It’s a sort of hallway from the street to our front door and the stair well, and not what I’d call a haven of refuge.

You know, it’s rather funny, but I never suppose for one moment that any of these missiles will ever hit this house.  All my speculations are engaged in figuring how I’d set about rescuing folk from the building opposite if it was hit, and where I’d put them.  Why this house isn’t being hit this very minute, I can't imagine, it seems as if everything is coming down our street.  Heigh-ho, it’s a merry life.

 

A few days later, and Jane was feeling a bit frazzled. She explains: 

 

This will not be a very long letter because I’m very tired and a bit ‘heady’ owing to having so little sleep the last three nights.  The blitz kept me up all night on Thursday and Friday, and although last night was quiet, I just couldn’t sleep, so I got up at twelve and had some cocoa and a read by the fire until nearly two, then I went back to bed and slept at last.  On Friday night I had Mrs Fraser and her little girl round here to take refuge in our sandbagged room, because they live in a top flat, which isn’t very safe.  Unfortunately Mr Fraser went into hospital on Thursday, so Mrs Fraser had no-one to support her during the blitz.  It lasted nine hours and was pretty fierce, so as soon as it was over I bathed and fed Richard and dashed round to see how Mrs Fraser was.  Irene had been a bit hysterical, and Mrs Fraser had sat bolt upright in a neighbour’s cold front hall all night, without so much as a rug or a cup of tea, and she was so shaken and wretched next day, that I told her to bring Irene and her rugs and pyjamas round here, and I’d put them both up. I’d spent the night making cupsa for the men who were fire-watching and dashing in and out with trays of nourishment.  It did me good to keep busy, so I wrote to Peggy and knitted in between times.  Sure enough, on Friday night Mrs Fraser had to come dashing round, so I put Irene in with Christine, and made up the camp bed for Mrs Fraser, and what with our beds, and the baby’s cot the place looked like a dormitory.  The room is less noisy because of the sandbags stopping the window from rattling at every bang, and Mrs Fraser had a good bit of sleep while the children slept right through it, I was up getting tea for the men, and it was three o'clock before the all-clear sounded and I got to bed to sleep.  I was up at 8.30 the next morning, but left Eric sleeping while I put on fires and made a huge pot of porridge and tea for everyone.  Mrs Fraser was so grateful for the rest and the company, and gave me three eggs which was very generous of her.  My grocer wouldn’t give me any this week, though the woman standing next to me at the counter got some, and I could spit in his beastly eye for being so mean.