WWII: The Home Front
I was 5 years old when the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor occured. I remember being in church and hearing about it. I'm not sure if it was on the Sunday of December 7th, 1941 when the news came to us; or Monday, December 8th which was a holy day and a church day for us Catholics. Whichever it was, it was at church where my memory places me.
The biggest change that happened as far as my family was concerned was that we could no longer send or receive mail from our relatives in Germany. In my collection of letters, I have mail that was returned to us after December 1941. Though Europe had been at war since 1939, we had continued to receive mail from our relatives in Germany. This ended when the USA joined the conflict. My parents spent the war years worrying about family who were soldiers in the German army; just as American families worried about their sons and daughters in the services.
On the homefront, rationing of food, clothing, cigarettes, gasoline, tires, etc. was put into effect. I remember the rationing books with little coupons that had to be torn out when buying these items. I remember my Dad trading some of his coupons for more sugar and maybe, coffee and meat. It was against the law to trade these coupons but this law was probably honored more in the breach.
Air raid drills became a part of everybody's life. Everyone had to buy window shades that sealed the house lights from being seen on the street. There was an air raid warden in each neighborhood who patrolled the streets. He would knock on doors to alert homeowners when any glimmer of light was seen.
Everyone was encouraged to save; whether it be tin cans or foil or whatever, for the war drives. This emphasis on saving and reusing things still has reprecussions in my life today, sixty-some years later. How many times has Jimmy groaned when I wanted to reuse a piece of foil or washed plastic zip-lock bags to use again or to refill an empty bottle of water!
I remember when the time came for Freddie and me to buy new shoes, we ended up with some ugly brown oxfords because that was all the shoe store had at the time. We used to buy our shoes from Cheatwoods in Barton Heights. I loved to go there to buy shoes because Mr. Cheatwood had one of those machines that xrayed one's feet to show whether the shoes fit properly or not! Kids loved to look in the peephole and see their bones in the shoes! Little did we realize how dangerous those machines were!
I remember going to the movies with my parents and watching Movietone newsreels of the war in Europe or the Pacific that were shown before the feature film. I can still hear the patriotic sounding announcer acclaiming our victories overseas. I don't remember seeing any of the carnage that our men endured.
When I finally started school, we were encouraged to buy war bonds and stamps. We gave our pennies as often as possible; just as we gave them to the foreign missions to save little babies. One experience at school has stayed in my memory. One of the boys in my class, George Crone, started calling me a Nazi! I was devastated! Of course I knew we were German; but we were not Nazis! I went home and told my Dad what had occured. He wanted to know who had called me a Nazi. When I told him, he just chuckled and said that he knew George's grandparents. They were German also; so I should not worry myself about the name calling.
I remember hearing Hitler's voice over the shortwave radio in our living room. In many parts of the country, Germans were not allowed to have shortwave radios and probably not in Richmond either but I know my parents had a console radio that was not hidden. I remember my Dad searching the short wave band to find the news coming out of Germany. I couldn't understand the words, but I remember Hitler's shrill and maniacal voice.
When the war started, my parents wisely cut off any connection with Richmond's Gesangverein. In many parts of the country German clubs, especially the Bund, had become very political and nazified and were eventually banned. My parents were never ones to join organized groups anyway. I really don't remember going to any of their functions. My parents had a small group of German friends whom they visited regularily during those years. I grew up with the children of those friends; and those who are left are still my friends today.
I was almost 9 years old when President Roosevelt died. I remember being across the street at Barbara Mason's house when the news bulletin came on the radio. I remembered running home to tell my parents.
As patriotic little children, we played at war, reflecting what we heard on the radio and at the movies. I would build little forts in the roots of the trees lining our street; make little roads for my cars and then bomb them with clods of dirt or rocks. Most of the kids' serials we listened to on the radio each day and the comic books we read, had heroes who were battling the Nazis or the Japanese.
The war didn't impact our household as much as it did so many others. My Dad was too old to be drafted into the service and my brother was too young. Thus we were spared the worry and despair that so many families faced when death claimed a father or son.
The biggest change that happened as far as my family was concerned was that we could no longer send or receive mail from our relatives in Germany. In my collection of letters, I have mail that was returned to us after December 1941. Though Europe had been at war since 1939, we had continued to receive mail from our relatives in Germany. This ended when the USA joined the conflict. My parents spent the war years worrying about family who were soldiers in the German army; just as American families worried about their sons and daughters in the services.
On the homefront, rationing of food, clothing, cigarettes, gasoline, tires, etc. was put into effect. I remember the rationing books with little coupons that had to be torn out when buying these items. I remember my Dad trading some of his coupons for more sugar and maybe, coffee and meat. It was against the law to trade these coupons but this law was probably honored more in the breach.
Air raid drills became a part of everybody's life. Everyone had to buy window shades that sealed the house lights from being seen on the street. There was an air raid warden in each neighborhood who patrolled the streets. He would knock on doors to alert homeowners when any glimmer of light was seen.
Everyone was encouraged to save; whether it be tin cans or foil or whatever, for the war drives. This emphasis on saving and reusing things still has reprecussions in my life today, sixty-some years later. How many times has Jimmy groaned when I wanted to reuse a piece of foil or washed plastic zip-lock bags to use again or to refill an empty bottle of water!
I remember when the time came for Freddie and me to buy new shoes, we ended up with some ugly brown oxfords because that was all the shoe store had at the time. We used to buy our shoes from Cheatwoods in Barton Heights. I loved to go there to buy shoes because Mr. Cheatwood had one of those machines that xrayed one's feet to show whether the shoes fit properly or not! Kids loved to look in the peephole and see their bones in the shoes! Little did we realize how dangerous those machines were!
I remember going to the movies with my parents and watching Movietone newsreels of the war in Europe or the Pacific that were shown before the feature film. I can still hear the patriotic sounding announcer acclaiming our victories overseas. I don't remember seeing any of the carnage that our men endured.
When I finally started school, we were encouraged to buy war bonds and stamps. We gave our pennies as often as possible; just as we gave them to the foreign missions to save little babies. One experience at school has stayed in my memory. One of the boys in my class, George Crone, started calling me a Nazi! I was devastated! Of course I knew we were German; but we were not Nazis! I went home and told my Dad what had occured. He wanted to know who had called me a Nazi. When I told him, he just chuckled and said that he knew George's grandparents. They were German also; so I should not worry myself about the name calling.
I remember hearing Hitler's voice over the shortwave radio in our living room. In many parts of the country, Germans were not allowed to have shortwave radios and probably not in Richmond either but I know my parents had a console radio that was not hidden. I remember my Dad searching the short wave band to find the news coming out of Germany. I couldn't understand the words, but I remember Hitler's shrill and maniacal voice.
When the war started, my parents wisely cut off any connection with Richmond's Gesangverein. In many parts of the country German clubs, especially the Bund, had become very political and nazified and were eventually banned. My parents were never ones to join organized groups anyway. I really don't remember going to any of their functions. My parents had a small group of German friends whom they visited regularily during those years. I grew up with the children of those friends; and those who are left are still my friends today.
I was almost 9 years old when President Roosevelt died. I remember being across the street at Barbara Mason's house when the news bulletin came on the radio. I remembered running home to tell my parents.
As patriotic little children, we played at war, reflecting what we heard on the radio and at the movies. I would build little forts in the roots of the trees lining our street; make little roads for my cars and then bomb them with clods of dirt or rocks. Most of the kids' serials we listened to on the radio each day and the comic books we read, had heroes who were battling the Nazis or the Japanese.
The war didn't impact our household as much as it did so many others. My Dad was too old to be drafted into the service and my brother was too young. Thus we were spared the worry and despair that so many families faced when death claimed a father or son.
posted by mary ann at 9:20 PM
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