Life On the Homefront During World War Two

Perhaps some of you may remember or be interested in what was happening on the home-front during World War II. First of all, we had rationing - and how! Just a few gallons of gas a week. Even shoes and typewriters were rationed. Meat, butter and sugar were rationed. We didn't even get enough sugar to make any jam or jelly - and in strawberry season! What was a girl to do? When we went in any stores, there was a sign which said, "Take a number and wait your turn." Other signs around town and in the newspaper were asking us "Is this trip really necessary?"

There were so many men called to war that it became necessary for women to take their places in factories. "Rosie, the Riveter" was a popular topic in movies and in stories. Other women were called upon to knit cast socks for sailors in a large navel hospital. The socks had a large hole near the heel for a foot cast to go through. We were instructed to make them black or gray, but we soon learned that the men preferred them in wild colors. I made my share of them.

Our mothers were "Gray Ladies," volunteers with the Red Cross, who went to the hospital and wrote letters for the wounded men, read to them, talked to them or just nearby and held their hand. We gathered old sheets and pillow cases which we cut and rolled into bandages. Many of us women got together and packed Bundles for Britain. They consisted of warm clothes for people who had been bombed out of their homes. We sent a good many packages, hoping they would go to the people who needed them.

We had to save bacon grease in empty coffee cans and take them to a certain store where it was later made into explosives. We got paid a few cents for each pound. Peach pits were also needed to be put inside gas masks. We gathered as many milkweed pods as possible to be used in Mae Wests (life vests). To prevent any gossiping which might find its way into the wrong hands, we often saw the warning "A slip of the lip may sink a ship." Life really was a bit more complicated than you might think. Everyone watched the papers every day for names of the unfortunate soldiers who gave their life for our country.

We had a lot of scary air raid warnings. When the fire siren blew, everyone on the streets hurried to a shelter, usually a school. All vehicles were supposed to get off the streets. People at home had to put dark shades on all of their windows so no light would show through. Volunteer air raid wardens went around to make sure people did what they were supposed to do. My husband was an air raid warden. He tried to enlist for military, but his eyesight wasn't satisfactory. Air raid stations were all around the country with platforms about twenty or more feet in the air. The men who manned them had to know at sight whether it was one of our planes or an enemy plane. When the siren blew again, it signaled the end of the air raid alert and everything could get back to normal. Even false alarms were necessary. Some people built shelters in their basements and furnished them with pillows, water, canned food, medical supplies, flashlights and battery-powered radios.

Houses with large gold stars in the front window signified that a member of the family had been killed in battle. There was one in our window - as the husband of Betty, my youngest sister, had been killed in the Battle of the Bulge on the border of France and Germany. My other sister, Mary, was in the WAAC. She had her basic training in the south and was then stationed in a office in the Pentagon. Later she was transferred to Washington state and eventually married a soldier in the Chapel at West Point. My oldest brother, Robert, served in the finance department in Panama, Spain, England and Australia. Frank, my younger brother, repaired airplanes that had been shot down. He made some beautiful men's rings and ash trays out of the discarded propeller centers.

On VE Day and VJ Day everyone gathered in the middle of town and made a lot of noise. I can still picture my mother standing there pounding on a pie tin.