As A Kid WWII

Being born during WWII meant that the fear of invasion was something you lived with. My uncles who came to visit, wore rough kakhi clothing and you felt its roughness when they hugged you hello or goodbye. They were late getting into the end of the war and didn't go overseas, but they had the boot camp training and took it without complaint. Complaining which is a daily news event these days, was unheard of then. The matter of war was always at the back of everyone's mind. It was the first piece reported on the radio and when you went to movies if you had enough rationing stamps to get gas and go there, you saw the first hand film of what was happening "overseas". The little books of rationing stamps for food and fuel, were valued and protected. We kids saved our pennies to buy war savings stamps at school and proudly put them into our stamp booklets. We all knew about margarine that was white and because it was rationed, not having too much sugar or butter and donating all the "silver paper" we could collect for the "war effort". Socks were knit for soldiers and boxes of food were sent to war torn countries. Today we buy poppies to remember the wars and the sacrifice of those who died in them, but then, we lived war every day - and night. When we said our prayers before bedtime we always put in our wishes for the troops and for ourselves, a safe night. Women went off to take jobs hitherto unknown to them and did it without complaint. We did without a lot of small things for the "war effort" and did it because we knew people who got one of those terrible telegrams that no one wants ever to receive. None of us were spoiled about having to do and wear and eat things that we didn't particularly like. No one was spoiled or demanding. The fear of possible invasion kept everyone from being "spoiled". My mother and her sister worked for a time, taking a "man's job", in a plywood plant shuffling around huge sheets of the stuff with their bandanas tied around their hair. My dad, who was too old to be "called up", was with his friend at night after work, on Air Raid runs on their bicycles up and down the streets to make sure the Blackout rules were carried on properly. In our homes, we had to hang blankets over the windows to be sure not to show any light that might possibly be seen by enemy bombers. My dad's friend was the neighbourhood Air Raid Warden. He was a British expat and knew all about the terrors of bombing. WWII was reality, not a movie but movie theatres showed glamorous Hollywood pictures to help everyone have a way to lighten up in the dark days. In 1945 and I was ten years old, when it was announced that the war was over, it was a gigantic weight lifted from the shoulders of everyone and with a magical joy, we all went down to the main street of town and joined the joyous crowds of people who were hugging each other and waving flags and celebrating the end of fear and tragedy and things that made us very sad. I remembered seeing former soldiers with missing limbs and still wearing their uniforms. Women and men who lost family members cried and shouted with joy all at the same time. And then after came a sobering and sometimes confusing, period of what to do next and all that it meant. But the great WWII fear was over.