Authors: Mike Brown
The maxim ‘Eat, drink and be merry – for tomorrow we die’ was very much the case for many in the Second World War. Barbara Courtney from Nunhead fondly remembers the parties they had: ‘We used to have parties at the weekend all the time – people brought whatever food they could get – drink too, they got somehow – we often had them at my Nan’s – we were just glad to still be alive.’ All over the country, especially at Christmas, children’s parties were organised by the ARP, the police, or other local services.
There was one high point most families could look forward to. George Parks remembers his older brother coming home on leave:
When Harry came home we always had a party; relatives and neighbours would come round, not so much his friends, they were all in the forces too. I used to go around with him when he let me – he’d be in his uniform and the other kids were so jealous. This was only a few times though; they didn’t get that much leave.
Celebration of Guy Fawkes Night disappeared during the war. Fireworks were impossible to come by – all gunpowder production was obviously reserved for the war effort – and even had they been available, letting off fireworks or burning bonfires at night were both banned as part of the blackout regulations. Besides, for many people the sights and sounds of a fireworks display were far too like those of an air raid to be seen as enjoyable at the time. Fireworks, like street-lights, took on the mantle of the fruits of peace – things to look forward to once the war was over.
The first Christmas of the war was almost the same as those of the pre-war era, but as time wore on and shortages began to bite, wartime Christmases became ever more ‘makeshift’ affairs. Toys were hard to find in the shops, decorations and trees were scarce, so once again it was time to ‘make do and mend’. Sylvie Stevenson recalls Christmas in wartime Chingford: ‘I remember watching my dad working on these things in the shed. Then at Christmas all the kids got these ducks he’d made, you put them on a slope and they waddled down it.’ Barbara Courtney: ‘At Christmas we used to make all our own decorations, we cut them out of cardboard and sweet papers, stars, elephants, all sorts of shapes, Chinese lanterns as well. Dad always managed to get a tree somehow. If you didn’t have a fairy, you used a small doll, or cut out a star.’
And food rationing, even though the government increased the rations over the holiday, meant the usual feast had to be cut back. The Ministry of Food and the writers of other wartime recipe books did their best to find substitutes, with varying degrees of success, as these Christmas recipes demonstrate:
A Wartime Christmas Pudding (Food Facts for the Kitchen Front)
This pudding was made in Canada during the last war [the First World War].
Mix together 1 cupful flour, 1 cupful breadcrumbs, half a cupful suet, half a cupful mixed dried fruit, and if you like a teaspoonful of mixed sweet spice. Then add a cupful of grated raw potato, a cupful of grated raw carrot, and finally a level teaspoonful of bicarbonate of soda dissolved in two teaspoonfuls of hot water. Mix all together, turn into a well-greased pudding bowl. The bowl should not be more than two-thirds full. Boil or steam for at least 2 hours.
Emergency Cream (1942) (Ministry of Food)
Bring a half-pint of water to blood heat, melt a tablespoonful unsalted margarine in it. Sprinkle 3 heaped tablespoonfuls household milk powder into this, beat well, then whisk thoroughly. Add 1 teaspoonful sugar and 1 teaspoonful vanilla. Leave to get cold.
Christmas Fruit Pies (1942) (Ministry of Food)
This mixture is a good alternative to mincemeat.
Warm 1 teaspoonful marmalade (or jam, but this is not so spicy) in small saucepan over tiny heat. Add a quarter-pound of prunes (soaked 24 hours, stoned, chopped) or other dried fruit, 1 tablespoonful sugar, 1 teacupful stale cake crumbs, or half cake, half bread crumbs, half a teaspoonful mixed spice. Stir together until crumbs are quite moist. Remove from heat, add 1 large chopped apple; also some chopped nuts if you have any. Make up into small pies, or large open flans. The mixture keeps several days in a cool place.
Christmas Cake with Holly Leaf Icing (1945) (Ministry of Food)
T
HE
C
AKE
4 ounces sugar, 4 ounces margarine, 1 tablespoonful syrup, 8 ounces flour, 2 level teaspoons baking powder, 1 level teaspoon cinnamon, 1 level teaspoon mixed spice, 2–4 eggs (reconstituted), 1 pound mixed fruit, half a teaspoonful lemon substitute, pinch of salt, milk to mix (about one-eighth of a pint).
Cream sugar and margarine, add syrup. Mix flour, baking powder, salt and spices together. Add alternately with the egg to the creamed mixture and beat well. Add fruit and lemon substitute and enough milk to make a fairly soft dough. Line a 7-inch tin with greased paper, put in the mixture, and bake in a moderate oven for 2 hours.
H
OLLY
L
EAF
I
CING
For this you will need: 4 ounces soya flour, 2 ounces margarine, 2 ounces sugar, 4 tablespoons water, almond essence to taste, few drops of green and red cookery colouring.
Melt margarine and water together, stir in the sugar, then the essence. Divide about a quarter of the resulting liquid into two cups, a little more in one than the other, and keep warm. Stir about three-quarters of the soya flour into the bulk of the liquid, turn out, knead the paste thoroughly, pat to about one-eighth inch thick, press on top of cake and neaten edges. Put a drop or two green colouring into cup holding most liquid, stir in flour and treat as for plain paste. Cut into leaf shapes, mark veins with a knife, pinch round edges to form ‘prickles’. Put red colouring into other cup, treat as before, form red paste into tiny balls. Arrange leaves and berries on top of cake in wreath shape or sprays, as you fancy.
Germany surrendered on 7 May 1945, and the next day was declared VE (Victory in Europe) Day. Up and down the country street parties were organised, although the food shortage meant that the food was somewhat restricted. Many people have vivid childhood memories of this time.
Charles Harris: ‘On VE Day we had a party, we held it in the Reliance Garage because it was pouring with rain. Every house gave what they could, jellies and things, junket. I won a packet of tea!’
Derek Dimond: ‘On VE Day they set up a street party in the road outside the Dog and Duck – I remember we had jelly, which was a real treat. On VE Night they set up searchlights in the Square in Stanstead and people danced in the street. I remember watching the moths fly into the searchlights.’
Sylvie Stevenson: ‘I shall never forget VE Day – we went over the fields to the shelters. We said “We won’t need these any more”. They had a corrugated iron escape hatch, we were all jumping on and off. I caught my leg on the edge – it cut me to the bone – I’ve still got the scar.’
David George from South Ealing clearly remembers VE Day: ‘They had a street party down the corner from where we lived, they brought out all the Morrison shelters and made one long table with them. People knew the end was coming and had been saving up their rations – for the first time in ages we had toffee – suddenly there was uproar, one girl was in floods of tears – her mother and father took her home – she’d pulled out a tooth on one of the toffees.’
Japan fought on, but after the Allies dropped atomic bombs, first on Hiroshima, then on Nagasaki, they also surrendered and 15 August was pronounced VJ (Victory against Japan) Day. The Second World War was finally over. Christine Pilgrim from Peckham clearly recalls her feelings: ‘VJ Day – what a relief it was – I know it sounds cruel now, but those atom bombs falling – everyone cheered, they just wanted to finish it off. The jubilation was huge.’
R.J. Holley: ‘I was at the Duke of Beaufort’s estate, for VJ Night, and the Duke had a barbecue, cooking a deer on a spit.’
The war was over and the fathers who had gone to serve were coming home, although not always to the welcome they were expecting from their children. Elizabeth Brown from Walthamstow remembers her husband’s homecoming:
My husband, Len, had joined up in 1939, and my second child, Carole, was born in 1942, after he’d been on leave. When Len came home, late in 1945, Carole didn’t know him, and when he first came in she ran and got behind the door – to her he was a stranger. She was so jealous – she’d had me all to herself before – if he was going out and came over to kiss me goodbye, she’d come and push herself between us. She was also jealous of her older sister, Patsy. Patsy was born in 1936, so she remembered Dad – she was all over him, and this made Carole worse. It took Carole ages to get used to him. My Mum lived two doors away, so if Carole saw Dad coming home, she used to go to Mum’s – luckily Len understood.
Also coming home were the evacuees. Some found their houses gone, others that their families had abandoned them or refused to have them back, but for most it was wonderful. Christine Pilgrim went home to Peckham: ‘We came home again in May, at the end. I was so thrilled, it was like belonging again. We’d been in Bournemouth, at a sort of children’s hostel called “House Beautiful”, the staff weren’t very beautiful – they didn’t like the children much, and we didn’t like them. You should have heard the rudeness that came out when we knew we were going home!’
The war certainly affected every British child, but in different ways. For a few, it was a great adventure, for others, a waking nightmare, but for most it was a mixed experience. In
William Carries On
published in 1942, Richmal Crompton gives some of the pros and cons of a wartime (country) childhood:
Certainly the war seemed to have altered life considerably for William. Sometimes he thought that the advantages and disadvantages cancelled each other out and sometimes he wasn’t sure. . . . Gamekeepers had been called up and he could trespass in fields and woods with impunity, but, on the other hand, sweets were scarce and cream buns unprocurable. Discipline was relaxed – at school as the result of a gradual infiltration of women teachers, and at home because his father worked overtime at the office and his mother was ‘managing’ without a cook – but these advantages were offset by a lack of entertainment in general. There were no parties, summer holidays were out of the question because of something called the Income Tax, and for the same reason pocket money, inadequate at the best of times, had faded almost to vanishing point.
Vivien Hatton: ‘I was moved around so much during the war that I finished up with a lack of confidence and a great deal of insecurity. It was all so frightening.’
Barbara Courtney: ‘Of course you hated the war just because it
was
a war, but you did have great friendships because of all the sharing.’
Christine Pilgrim: ‘I hated the war – I couldn’t watch any of the 50th anniversary VE Day celebrations – I hated it all so much – just little things like you never knew whose dad was going to be killed next.’
Sylvie Stevenson remembers the war with a child’s practical eye: ‘I was only 4 when the war started so I didn’t really know any different – it wasn’t particularly enjoyable, there was too much destruction. Later on, when I was about 12, I looked back and thought, “I missed so many things – especially ice cream.”’
The war was at an end: evacuees and troops were returning home, the blackout was over, air-raids and V weapons a thing of the past. Yet some problems lingered on: shortages got worse and rationing was to remain until 1953, while bomb sites continued to be a feature of the landscape of many towns into the 1960s. Now little is left, street shelter signs are a rarity, ephemera and artefacts are keenly collected, but what does endure are the memories of those who were there.
It had been a war that had affected civilians as never before, and children perhaps most of all. In Germany the last defenders of the Reich had been the old men of the Volksturm and the boys of the Hitler Youth. Millions of British children had been evacuated, their education had been disrupted, their family life turned upside down by the absence of fathers, and even mothers. For a great number of them nightmares and nervous problems would haunt them for years. In so many ways, it had truly been a child’s war.
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Sew and Save
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The City That Wouldn’t Die
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Cooking in Wartime
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William and the Evacuees
, Newnes, 1940
——.
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Food Facts for the Kitchen Front
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Front Line
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