What was it like living in Europe during WWII?

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

My mother was a kid here in the US during WWII, so I’ve heard all about the rationing and the stars in the windows. My Grandfather served in the South Pacific, and his brothers served in Europe, so I’ve gotten the first hand combat stories. I’ve watched the war movies, and seen the History Channel shows. However, I don’t know that I’ve really heard any good stories of what it was like to be a civilian in Europe during WWII.

What was it like? Did they live in fear all of the time? Could kids go to school? Was food readily available? Was there any semblance of normality?

I hate that I’m so ignorant of this. Anyone care to enlighten me?

2

Depends who and where you were. If you were Jewish, gypsy, or a political dissident you were under tight control and ultimately destined for death camps. If you were an ordinary person who kept his head down, you had rationing, ID checks, etc, but life went on - schools, factories, farms etc all functioned, subject to Nazi direction. W European countries under Nazi occupation were treated better than Eastern, Slav communities. If you lived near military targets (or not, in some cases), you had US/UK bombing raids. Obviously, when the initial invasion took place and when the allies invaded back, all bets were off. There was famine and economic chaos. When the Russians invaded, huge numbers of refugees fled west, and German and other civilians were raped and massacred.

An uncle of mine lived in France during the time. As an enemy national, he was under a sort of house arrest, but was treated decently. My grandparents got a bill from a German army hospital via the Swiss Red Cross for his appendectomy.

Interesting tidbit - I read somewhere that the diet of UK children during WW2 under fairly heavy rationing was significantly healthier than the diet of today.

3

The experiences will vary greatly - some countries were occupied, some were neutral, some didn’t had land battles on their soil etc.

My mother grew up in England during the war. She lived on the outskirts of an industrialised area, so there were plenty of airraids, but the place where she lived wasn’t a target, and only one bomb dropped there. However, Birmingham, where she often travelled to, was heavily bombed.

Children from heavily bombed areas were often evacuated to the countryside. For some it was a positive experience, others hated it.

Children continued to go to school. They carried gasmasks, but these were never needed.

Food and clothing were rationed. There was hardship, but the rationing system helped to ensure as fair a distribution as possible.

There was a great deal of propaganda, aimed at stirring up patriotism, and making sure everyone “did their bit”, such as “digging for victory” (growing vegetables), or making sure they observed the blackout (fines could be imposed for those allowing light to shine through their windows).

Streetsigns were removed in order to confuse the ememy, should they land.

It was frighening at times but also exciting. Families would gather round the radio to hear the latest reports (always positive, of course). Plus mother has positive memories of American soldiers and their generosity with candy and gum !

4

There is a great filme called Hope and Glory about living in England during WWII. What I love is that the movie is from the point of view of a young boy. So he and his friends play in bombed out houses and think it’s fun.

5

I just wrote a book about someone who grew up in London during WWII and was briefly evacuated to Scotland as well. I interviewed her sister and some friends from that time and place . . . They were kids, so they thought of it all as very exciting, a new adventure—Kim (the woman I spoke to) said that they just never thought the bombs would fall on them, even if they’d just hit the next street over.

Rationing was a bitch—she and her sister would trade rations and coupons for things they liked. And after dark, there was nothing in the way of public transport or lighting, and you had to shine your torch (flashlight) down to the ground to avoid being seen from the air.

The sisters also joined ENSA (the British version of the USO) and boy, the stories she had to tell about that!

6

My MIL grew up in England. She was never supposed to have children (she had three) since due to her mother’s poor diet from rationing while she was pregnant my MIL was born with a twisted uterus.

I think it’s more psychological. My MIL always has a full pantry and freezer, even though it’s just her and my FIL now. She buys pounds and pounds of food, enough that she gives some away to her kids.

She also doesn’t eat much. A story she likes to tell about the damn Yank she was dating (and later married) was how he came in the house and ate an entire pint of ice cream, which was supposed to be for all five family members. He felt so badly he ran right out and bought each family member their own pint.

7

My father grew up in Wales during WW2. They were pretty poor to start out, but food rationing hit them hard. I think he’s spoken about being allowed only a certain number of eggs a month, and having coupons. He and his brother would trap birds and rabbits for extra protein, as well as fish and skates in the ocean. To this day he’s very conscious about food consumption, on saving leftovers even to the point where they’re not edible anymore. He hates to see food go to waste. My father told me a story once about a U-Boat that was torpedoed somewhere off the coast, and all sorts of detritus–including dead German soldiers–washed up on the beach. He went through all the packs and things looking for food and whatever else could be scavenged.
My father also remembers American soldiers in some kind of parade after the war, tossing out sweets and stuff to the crowds. He caught a pouch of something, and without thinking he tore it open and stuffed a handful in his mouth and swallowed. It was chewing tobacco. He says he’s never been sicker in his entire life.
Incidentally, Zebra, my father says that Hope and Glory is pretty accurate from his point of view. And everyone should see it.

8

Thanks for the movie tip. I’m going to have to go rent it now.

Eve where can I get your book? I’m intrigued.

Thanks for the stories folks. I hope there are going to be more!

9

It should be out in early September. With the Mods’ permission, I’ll plug the living bejeebus out of it then . . .

10

A German Story in Three Parts:

My husband’s Oma ( grandma) was raised east of Berlin. Married young, as they did then and had a little girl ( my mother in law) shortly before her husband went off to fight. German Army. A cook. Never saw any action except with a potato peeler and he was damned happy about that.

During the time he was away, Oma had to earn money. Ends up some how as a cook for a Count ( or Baron, I forget) who had a large mini-castle/manor style home. Oma cooked for everyone. At 18 or 19, this was an immense task cooking all day to feed all the workers this man employeed but she was more than happy to have a job, money and roof over her head for herself and an infant.

Then one day word quickly spread that the Russians were coming. The Count went around and said good bye to all his workers, packed up all the valuables in a horse & wagon ( strict fuel rationing prevented him from taking one of his many vehicles) and he and his family left. The count was very fond of Oma and wished her well.

The workers really did not know what to do. The count could not stick around because the russians would have killed him, being a very wealthy land owner and minor aristocrat, so the workers kept working and hoped that the Ruskies would go about their way and leave them alone.

Well, as fate would have it, the Russians decided this place would be *perfect * for them for the time being and stayed their I don’t know how long. They were nice to the workers and just did their stuff. Oma cooked for more people than ever before and the soldiers took turns playing with her infant daughter.

Then one night they raped her. A bunch of them. To her knowledge no other woman on the property was attacked.

I don’t know if the men who did it got in trouble, probably not, but she never forgot or forgave them. And she had to go on and continue to cook for them until she could get away from them.

Eventually she did move and ended up in a small farming community south of Hamburg, east of Bremen. They never heard any bombings, but heard the planes flying over head and the occasional tanker going by.

What they did see but had no control over was the trains. The cattle cars of humans heading to Bergin Belsen. They usually came through at night and stopped in this town for water, I guess. Every once in awhile there was shouting then gun fire. At mornings light one or two dead bodies would be found near by of a prisoner escaping one death for another.

The community buried these souls in a mass grave and after the war put up a momument.
My Husband’s Father side was originally from Prussia. His Grandmother ( Oma Herta) was the mother of 6 small children 9 on down to infant ( the youngest was my future father in law) and once again, word spread that the Russians were coming and they packed up everything of value and fled with other across the frozen body of water ( which the name escapes me right now ) that in the morning when the sun rose, everything melted through for the spring thaw. This was April of 1941, or possibly April 42, I can’t remember. Had they tarried one more night on what to do, they would have been in some shitty situation with the Russians in their town. ( They went back to the old neighborhood for the first time about ten years ago. Some of the old neighbors were there and the horror stories they told scared them silly.)

Meanwhile, FIL’s dad had gotten himself drafted by the Germans into their Army and sent on his merry way to kill Russians. Yeah. Leaving his wife alone in a new country with six kids one can only imagine how well that went over. I don’t even think they had a house.

Oma Herta had to grow all her own food to survive the winters because they had no money and no car.

Opa ended up getting shot in the arm and weak from loss of blood. The Russians, being all things not warm and fuzzy, were walking through the slaughterfest that had just happened and shooting german soldiers in the head. Opa laid there, scared to death, pretending to be dead. The gun was put to his head and " Click" . The Ruskie was out of bullets. He was left for dead.

Some time passed and the American’s came through. They ended up patching up Opa ( his arm had to be amputated below the elbow.) and I don’t recall what happened after that in how he got home or if he were a prisoner. ( He died before I met him.)

My FIL has stories of growing up with a British/American tank base right in their home town and how all the kids would sneak on the base and steal whatever they could, mainly petrol, because of shortages after the war. The officers at the base all knew my FIL who was always stealing petrol cans.

My Old Boss was in Bremen during the bombings. Polly, dear god she was as deaf as a door knob and frugal as, well, a German.
Her family was once very very affluent. Her father was a banker and took a transfer from Holland somewhere to Bremen because Holland was in such hot water. Who knew that Bremen would get the snot bombed out of it?

To make a long story short, Daddy had paid and conned some big who-ha’s to put his only son in a cushy desk job in Paris for the remainder of the war. Son bored of desk work and transfered himself up to see some action. One week later the son was dead. When the father heard the news, he died on the spot. Right there. Bam! So, her mother lost her only son, but her husband within one week. And then they lost their fortune and their house.

The three sisters supported each other with jobs. Polly went on to work as a secretary for the US Army, where she met her future husband, John before moving to the US.

I asked Polly, before she met any Americans, what was her impression of yanks.

" I thought zhey were all gum chewing, feet on the desk cowboys. Ach!"

When she met her husband, he was chewing gum and, yep, had his feet on the desk. He was no cowboy, he was an accountant. They were married over 50 years.
I also asked her once why did she not join the HJ’s ( Hitler Jungens or Hitler Youths) as it was cited, at the time, to being like the boy and girl scouts. She was the right age when it was at it’s peak, I said, hoping to find out if she were a closet Nazi.

“Because.” she said in quick reflection, " I thought their uniforms were ugly. Brown was a terrible color with my red hair."

So, there you have three sides of the Kraut Connection.

11

My Polish grandparents both spent WWII in German labor camps. My grandfather was rounded up with the men and boys when the German took over his village. He spent the entire war in a camp. He doesn’t talk much about it, but he did tell us about seeing a childhood friend being worked to death. They had to push his body out of the way and keep working. He also talked about how thin they all were from the poor diet and hard work.

My grandmother was in another camp and because they knew she was raised on a farm she was selected by two officers at the camp to care for and groom their personal riding horses. She said if any little thing displeased them about her work, or if the officers just felt like it, she was beaten. She has said she was terrified everytime she laid eyes on them.

They met after the war while living in Germany as displaced persons with little opportunity. They married, had two kids (including my mom) and were sponsored by a church group to come to America with groups of other Poles. My grandfather said if they hadn’t been able to come to the US, they would have immigrated to Australia, when that nation was recruiting people to come after the war.