My Dad, a sense of perspective – 1939 v 2020 (ps - he's the one in the middle)

I thought I would write a short article comparing our current “sacrifices” and fears with those of WW2. Not because I think they’re truly comparable, but because my generation has no other comparative. These are scary times but I think a sense of perspective is useful for all of us.

My Dad, who will be 90 later this year, is a bit of an amateur historian. Moreover, he was 9 when WW2 broke out, and 15 when it ended, and he remembers it well. So, I asked him if he could give me a comparison to back then. My original plan was to bring this together in an article written by me, but on reading his response I’ve just decided to share it, verbatim.

“Sometime in early 1939 at the cinema with Gran, a weekly treat! I distinctly remember this! The Gaumont newsreel came on showing an aerial view of a port, the words “DANZIG” in big white letters was painted on the ground. This was the forerunner of what was to come, the “phoney war”. 

Dad was scared, he was ex-Army, and Mum was too. Over the garden fence chatting and in the shops people talked about nothing else but “the war was coming”, us young one` s were a little bit excited, planes and soldiers were our playthings and now they might be real, I suspect deep down I too was scared stiff!

The Prime Minister came back from his famous meeting with that bloke Hitler, peace he said, waving that bit of paper. The newspapers, so my Dad said, were cautious to believe him; my Grandad who fought on “The Somme” in the “Big War” certainly did not believe him!

 Like everyone is feeling today about this nasty virus thing we were just lacking real information and were just frightened.

There are other comparisons too.

 In 1939..If things are going to get better, why issue gas masks, deliver home assembly type air raid shelters for the garden and put us kids on the footing for evacuation, which by the way was compulsory. No saying we did not want to go, you were sent!

2020… Recalling NHS staff, enlarging hospital facilities, troops on standby (again!), ring a bell?

So as 1939 dragged on towards September! Things warmed up, men of a certain age began to disappear from the community, some were in “reserved occupations” and were needed at home. Ladies began to take over their roles, post ladies, ambulances, fire brigade, the trains, but especially in the factories.

September 1st. My brother and I are evacuated. We stand in the school playground. Gas masks slung, (now issued to everyone), small package in hand, this contains mandatory toilet gear and spare underclothes, no toys!), our coats labelled with our names and date of birth. It is my brothers birthday, he is six, I am nine. Mum stands there with us, just to say a last good bye.

A bus and train journey and we are in the countryside, just twenty miles from an aerodrome where Vickers Wellington bombers are seen parked on the tarmac! We saw them taking off later to drop leaflets on Berlin, so we hear!

We were unhappy, some of us were unwelcomed, and the strangeness of the countryside, seeing funny animals and living in an environment without rows of houses was strange to us.

It was not long before we came back home for a while. London had changed. Food was in short supply, rationing was enforced and queuing was the norm. There were no Supermarkets so the corner shops dealt with food distribution as best they could. Unnecessary travel was discouraged, very few people had cars, and petrol was rationed. Trains, buses and tubes were running when they could but often air raid damage interfered with their timetables. Factories operated day and night so most people used bikes for transport, with restricted lights as the blackout was enforced severely!

At school, pencils were in short supply as was paper, one rubber per classroom. The occasional empty desk when the name of the poor lass or laddie who had been lost during the night`s bombing would be read out during Assembly. We were scared, all of us, as we were growing up we knew the terror off the Germans who were only 21 miles across the Channel (at the time we lived in Wimbledon).

We would all have the fear of imminent death which would be the butt of constant joking. When the siren sounded the first ones down the shelter always managed to fuse the lights, it then became a problem for the teachers, boys sit this side girls that side, it never worked!

Socialising in the home was good. If No 18 was bombed out, very likely they would move into a crowded No 20! People looked after each, even rationed goods were shared and other rarities like soap or candles were often passed between houses. Today`s rarity, toilet paper!! We had newspaper torn up into manageable squares, threaded onto string and then hung up in the loo! What is a Nation coming to that wants such luxuries!

General activities carried on, football matches, cricket, theatre, cinemas, though these could be interrupted or closed by an air raid. Restaurants were open but usually with a restricted menu and some would ask for your ration book so that the appropriate coupons could be marked. Mind you very few people ate out in those days! I was about eighteen before I first had a meal out!

Pubs were the usual gathering places; they were real in those days, smoke and a piano! Beer might be a bit thin and spirits were almost unobtainable. Homemade brew were sometimes sold under the counter. No crisps but big wholemeal biscuits, for us young-uns who had to sit outside!

Having said all this some of the most enjoyable Christmas`s and birthdays I ever had were during these bleak years. My parents and Grandparents and relations always managed to put on a brave face and to make things happen, a lesson to us all.

All in all one could say that the circumstances were different then, I agree.

We were a generation that grew up in the shadow of the depression of the 1930`s and the Jarrow Marches. We knew the war was coming, very little preparation was made, and the “phoney war” was a screen that became a real war.

Today`s current tragedy has hit a generation that, since WW2, in Europe in particular, has grown into a luxurious paradise for some. Many children have not felt poverty or hard living, further, sadly their parents cannot cope with what has now happened.

Harry Summerton”