We faced a bitter winter. 1941-1942 was a particularly arctic cold period and worse still the war took on a new intensity. Our newspapers were censored by the Germans and were filled with stories of successful German military campaigns around the world. This news and our private troubles made our already low morale even lower. All we wished for was an end to the war, an end to the food shortages and to be freed from the oppressive presence of the enemy. By then it was clear to the population that there was an evil, menacing element hiding behind the outwardly civilized and disciplined German force. Particularly the SS troops and the Gestapo were feared as stories of their atrocities circulated among the Belgian people. However the full truth of the atrocities perpetrated by the Nazis was not fully understood until it was exposed at the end of the war.
As winter approached, a hard frost set in and it was bitterly cold. Fuel was almost unobtainable and the scanty monthly ration we were allocated was hardly sufficient to provide heat for one week. We had to be very sparing with our supply, saving as much as we could for the weekends when my brothers came home. We kept out coats on in the house to keep warm when we returned from work and went to bed immediately after our evening meal. As in every emergency, again we found an answer to the problem. With friends, we set up a rotation to spend evenings in each others' homes on alternate nights and thus to share the warmth of one family’s fuel ration. This also alleviated the dullness of our lives. The gatherings were cosy and enjoyable. We played cards and games, and exchanged stories. We started hobbies. People discovered dormant talents they did not know they had. With so many commodities in short supply, all kinds of materials were put to good use. Old clothing was unpicked and new garments sown from them. Old knitwear was unraveled and knitted up anew. Nothing was wasted; everything possible was made use of. We still had my father’s old khaki greatcoat; it was unpicked, and the parts washed and dyed chocolate brown and turned into a fashionable warm coat with a pale blue lined hood. It was one of the best coats I ever had.
We became very inventive and resourceful and all sorts of objects were made with amazing ingenuity. For example, at the paper factory where I worked, we could buy reels of cellophane paper strips. From this we crocheted attractive and durable handbags and shopping bags. They came in all colours and sizes. Soon they were so popular we could not make enough of them. We sold them for a small profit which provided very welcome pocket money. Sometimes a lucky finder would come into possession of a silk parachute, found hidden or buried somewhere. They made lovely garments and sold for a lot of money. If someone got near to a crashed or shot-down aeroplane they could procure a piece of aluminum or Perspex from the wreckage. This was used to make rings, bracelets, medallions and so on. These became collector’s items in the years after the war. These combined activities brought some light relief to the community. The only thing our hospitality to one another could not provide, apart from warmth and an occasional drink of “Ersatz Coffee”, was something to eat. No one could spare even a crumb. It became customary for visitors to bring their own refreshments. On rare occasions, if someone did have a windfall of some extras to share out, this was indeed a special treat.
To supplement our meagre coal ration we used to go to the factory where I worked. There were heaps of ashes piled up high outside the furnaces. In the bitter cold it took us several hours to collect maybe a bucketful of ashes. We mixed the ashes with our coal to make it go a bit further. Whenever a stick of wood could be found to provide a bit of warmth, it was taken. There were nightly wood chopping raids by gangs of men who slinked out in the night with chainsaws and axes. Nothing was sacred. There must have been some beautiful trees felled, even in public parks. Entire trees were dragged, pulled, rolled and transported home somehow. The resulting fire logs were sold on the black market. If you were caught there was a heavy prison sentence.
The severe winters we endured during these years were compensated by glorious summers. I remember endless days of blue skies and warm sunshine. Everything seemed brighter then. The food situation improved during the summer months. The fields yielded potatoes and vegetables in abundance. There was plenty of fresh fruit, apples, pears, plums, cherries and so on. If freezers had existed then they would have been filled to capacity to see us through the winter months. In those days we preserved food the old fashioned way. Green beans were salted in crock pots. Peas were dried. Jam making was difficult as there was no sugar and using saccharine was not very successful. Our rationed bread was made from a mixture of grains, some of which was normally used as animal feed. We also used ground horse chestnuts or conkers, which gave the bread a bitter taste. It was an awful, heavy, sticky doughy texture which did not properly dry when baked. When you cut it with a knife it stuck to the blade. The ration ran to only four slices each per day. We would cut it the night before consumption to give it a chance to dry out. The bread was so indigestible and heavy we would get terrible stomach cramps after eating it. Some people developed stomach ulcers which may have been caused by the poor diet.
Sometimes the lengths people went to in search of food were almost bizarre. People with pets learned to keep them indoors. Cats were used for a stew that some people said was indistinguishable from rabbit stew. Dogs gradually disappeared from the streets and my mother was convinced that our local butcher sold “dog sausages” on the black market. After the war was over she could never bring herself to buy anything from his shop again. She detested the man.
We are all products of the age in which we live. Today’s generation who have been raised in a time of affluence and have been well fed can not understand what it is like to be in a perpetual state of unsatisfied hunger. They have never come home from work to walk into an icy cold house and have no fuel to light a fire. They have never had to climb into an ice cold bed and lay awake for hours unable to sleep as they shiver with a cold back and freezing feet. The hardships we had to endure left a lasting impression that conditioned us for the rest of our lives. It was a hard schooling. I could never again tolerate waste of any kind. I can barely throw away a crust of bread. Whenever there is a threat of economic decline I know my experience with shortages will prove useful. I wonder sometimes if the younger generation will have to learn these hard lessons.
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