Limy,
You have a very valid point in what you say, I was born in February 1939, and strange as it may seem I have some memories of 1943 on wards, What I can recall is the basic and pretty bland rotten food, I guess we were lucky living about one mile out of town, and so we could get the occasional eggs, potatoes, milk and cheese from a local farmer friend , add to that occasional bags of coal from an old owner of a local coalmine All on the hush hush.
Heavens knows how the folk in the large cities managed I will never know, With rationing everyone was pretty well kept to the basic minimum The situation in Europe must have been dire especially for the souls in the occupied territories.
About half a mile above the family home, the municipal gas mains for the supply of town gas stopped , Looking at that facility now with adult eyes that was an unusual situation, I can only surmise it was to supply the lighting in a big local municipal water pumping station ( quite a grand old place) I can remember my old maiden aunts going to work in the war supply factories, father also , and he seemed to me to be way from home every day for a long time , some days I never saw him at all, Mother used to complain about the gas pressure on our cooker, it was cut back to conserve energy by the gas company Thinking now it was well down on the safety parameters normally set.
Up from the family home was a big anti aircraft gun, as a kid I remember it firing a few salvo's on a couple of occasions and I was terrified, Heavens knows how the kids in the inner cities were coping with bombs dropping around them and the grim destruction which ensued.
Everything was pretty drab, clothes were utility brand, As a kid one did not know any different, Some people were damned swines , home guard types and civil defense "Wallas" puffed up with their own importance, Father told me of an occasion many years later when I could understand human nature, He was coming home from his workplace on the bus,
When one of these guys who believe it or not had been at school with him, came along the line of passengers demanding all and sundries identification papers, He came to my dad and dad said "Hello Bert" to which dad recieved a snappy Identification papers now!, The reply was "Go to Hell if you know what is good for you" The ensuing raucous which followed resulted in our man being flung off the bus, His silly little uniform and all by the munition workers and my father.
At the outbreak of the war he told me of another fun occurrence, In which he recieved through the post his civil defense fire watching papers + another set for a sewcond member of the family, ( We will come to that person later!) Strange to say he recieved fur sets of papers for areas all one, to one and a half miles from each other, Well being a rebellious old soul ex 1914-18 war, he threw them into a drawer and put the matter to the back of his mind, The war went into fifth gear, and again he was returning home from work in his bus journey, He did not seem to have much fun with that bus! When one of these jumped up officials approached him and said "You are going to be made a proper example off !" He just managed to keep his cool , He arrived home to find a summons to appear before the Chief Constable on the Saturday morning approaching.
Came the Saturday morning he brushed his boots to a real gloss finish best coat and cap, picked up his large portfolio of instructions and it would seem took me along with him as well, He arrived at the great mans office at the appointed hour and proceeded to explain his long list of fire watching locations, The Chief constable eventually used his common sense to instruct him, Should the exigency occur, To have a look for burning streets in the hamlet in which we lived and also around the factory location if he was on nightshift All was going swimmingly wonderful till the old boy asked dad what about this other member of your household ? to which Dad said "That is him lying sleeping on your other chair" I was by this stage six months old __ Pretty Smart Kid!
Our high official never said anything else he was dumbfounded, With what dad told me years later, He quietly picked up his phone, And then bellowed into it to the sub office which issued the instruction, "Get over here now!" The row was as big as a flitting, These inept persons had to apologize to Dad And me , I do not know if I was happy with their apologies
Guess in a war time, cognisense has to be taken as to any strangers who might be fifth columnists, to protect the security and safety of all the citizens of the country , I guess all the folks in the British Isles banded together to save the country being over run by the axis forces and worked pretty hard in frequent unpleasant dumps of factories, The banding together also consisted of helping your fellow citizen to get through As a little boy I liked mechanical things and I well remember Dad and his old farmer friend on a Saturday afternoon carrying out repairs to his machinery with pretty basic tools and equipment
Fortunately we lived on a fairly busy road from Glasgow to Edinburgh, By that time it had become a secondary road , It was a busy artery for some large items of machinery and supplies to be transported , In the North end of Glasgow on London Road was the yard of Pickford & co heavy haulage contractors, And I can remember this firms big Diesel tractor units and flat low set trailers trundling up the steep hills with marine engines as a cargo I guess as to me they were big, in the scheme of things the were likely little trawler engines proceeding from the various Clyde works en route to the East Coast of Scotland shipbuilders.
WE also had about five miles from us a large prisoner of war camp, holding German P.O.W's I remember these men working in the fields, They were always most polite and their guard usually had his rifle perched against a tree and was working along with them, My mother saintly soul, said "They are some other poor woman's sons" caught up in a bloody war caused by a megalomaniac.