Yes, We Have No Bananas – Behind the Episode

Continuing our series of blogs called ‘Behind the Episode’. Our resident aviation expert, Kirsty, will be looking further into the real history threaded throughout our audio drama, particularly the aircraft featured in each episode and other aspects of life on the home front.

Whenever discussing life in Britain during WWII with my late Father-in-Law, conversations would invariably centre around three facts; it was dark, it was cold, and everyone was hungry. In the pre-war years the population’s dietary requirements were largely satisfied by drawing on the rich resources of its (then) vast Empire and by taking advantage of reasonably priced goods from other countries. Indeed, two thirds of the Nation’s appetite was satisfied by imports from abroad.

The German Reich was not slow to appreciate this point and from the outbreak of hostilities set about disrupting the flow of goods into Britain with the aim of starving the country into submission. Having clandestinely amassed a large and well-trained U-Boat fleet, the Nazis immediately deployed this lethal force against the vital transatlantic merchant conveys. With the allies limited to rudimentary air cover in the early stages of the war, the submarines were to prove particularly effective. During what became known as “The Battle of the Atlantic”, some 2,600 merchant ships would fall victim to U-boat torpedoes, claiming the lives of over 30,000 merchant seamen. Deprived of its once bountiful supply of goods, Britain had no choice but to introduce a strict system of rationing.

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The rationing of Petrol or Motor Spirit as the Government preferred to call it, came into force as early as 16th September 1939. Coupons were available from the Post Office on production of a vehicle’s Registration Book, the quantity available being determined by the rating of the vehicle. For a small car this equated to about 5 gallons per month. Coupon books were valid for a period of two months and had to be surrendered before a new book could be issued. One was not allowed to hoard coupons; thus, any unused on the book’s expiry would be lost. Anyone using a vehicle for commercial purposes could apply for an additional allowance, but to prevent misuse, the petrol issued was leaded and contained a tell-tale red dye. Needless to say, there were heavy penalties for anyone caught abusing the system. In 1942 the use of petrol for private means was completely prohibited and cars largely disappeared from Britain’s roads for the remainder of the War.

Due to the large number of miners being called up for military service, coal was rationed from July 1941. Shortage of labour became so acute that ultimately mining was deemed a reserved occupation, but there was no let-up on rationing. As most homes depended on coal for both heating and hot water, this was a particular hardship. The use of water was also restricted with a family being allowed just one 5” bath per week, thus bath water had to be shared.
With materials in short supply and most factories given over to war work, from June 1941 clothing was rationed. As with petrol this was done on a coupons-based system with each person initially receiving 66 coupons a year. Each item of clothing had a coupon value; a coat costing 16 coupons, whilst a pair of shoes was 7 and underwear 8. With many women now doing war work, military style uniforms – “Siren Suits” – had become the dress code of choice as they were the most practical for factory work. Frills and lace disappeared from underwear, as did turn-ups from trousers, whilst skirts tended to be worn short, all in a bid to save material.
Later, as the level of supply got even more acute, the yearly allowance was slashed to just 48 coupons. “Make Do & Mend” became the order of the day with the Ministry of Information issuing a useful pamphlet on how clothing might be darned, repaired and recycled, allowing one to be frugal yet stylish during times of austerity. The stylish bit probably required a broad imagination, but the population was ever resourceful, and nothing went to waste.

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Undoubtedly the toughest wartime privation was that of food rationing which was first introduced on 8th January 1940 with restrictions on bacon, butter and sugar. Over the next few years, the net was widened to encompass almost all food items apart from bread, fruit, vegetables and fish although these were invariably in short supply.
To obtain rationed items each person was issued with a coupon book and was then required to register with a chosen shop. Shopkeepers were only supplied with enough goods to meet the needs of their registered customers who in turn had to present their ration books so that the coupon pertaining to the item purchased could be cancelled. The typical weekly ration for an adult was less than generous but its aim was to ensure the fair distribution of available goods throughout the population whilst allowing everyone enough to remain healthy. Those that were able to grow their own vegetables could enjoy a little extra and indeed the entire populace was encouraged to “Dig for Victory”. Very soon allotments, parks and even the grounds of some schools were being used to cultivate valuable extra crops.

Onions were not rationed but were not always available. The thrill of excitement when Mrs Palmer is known to have onions is perhaps typical of that experienced in many little wartime villages when a potential treat was on offer. Ruby’s frustration with Katherine and her determination to go back and queue for them the next day was a scene no doubt played out throughout the country in those dark days.

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The favoured white loaf had given way to the “National Loaf”, a wholemeal variety that was both grey and insipid and gave rise to countless complaints of bad digestion. In wartime a piece of fruit usually meant an apple as items such as oranges, lemons and bananas had all but disappeared. It is no coincidence that the popular 1930s music hall song “Yes, We Have No Bananas” once more became popular.

The end of the War did not bring an end to the hardship, and food rationing was not finally lifted until 4th July 1954. The Government had presented the population with a diet that was limited and austere, but it did at least enable them to remain healthy and carry on. Indeed, the nation’s general level of health undoubtedly improved. There were some side effects, however, the greater level of starch in the diet leading to a remarkable in increase in flatulence!

Put That Light Out – Behind the Episode

Continuing our series of blogs called ‘Behind the Episode’. Our resident aviation expert, Kirsty, will be looking further into the real history threaded throughout our audio drama, particularly the aircraft featured in each episode.

“Put that light out! Put that light out! an enemy plane could see that fire for miles.”
With these caustically delivered words ARP Warden Hodges angrily berated Captain Mainwaring, whose platoon had inadvertently set fire to the church hall chimney, ironically whilst trying to help the wardens. It was a refrain that was to become all to familiar to fans of Dad’s Army, whilst Warden Hodges zealously went about his duty to ensure that not a chink of light was visible in the environs of Walmington-on-Sea in the hours after dark. And it would have been a not dissimilar scene acted out every night throughout Britain in the dark, dark years of WWII.

The Government actually imposed a total blackout throughout the United Kingdom on 1st September 1939, two days before hostilities were declared. As Warden Hodges had touched upon above, the aim was to deprive enemy bombers of anything that might provide an aid to navigation. All households were issued with blackout materials and were required to ensure that all windows and skylights were blanked out after sunset. Typically, thick dark cotton fabric, wooden boards or paint were used to comply with the regulations, with many offices or households fashioning blinds that could be quickly set up and fastened in place.

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To stop light flooding out when one entered a shop, storekeepers were often obliged to install double doors, customers having to ensure that they had closed one door before opening the next. It was a similar situation at cinemas where, because it was so dark at the pay kiosk, seasoned film goers would invariably arrive with the exact fee already counted out. When outside, people were forbidden to smoke, strike matches or use a torch or any other form of light. Needless to say, the lighting of fires was also prohibited.

Initially all streetlights were switched off and cars were only allowed to drive using sidelights. Not surprisingly, in the first few months of the war, the number of road deaths doubled, forcing the authorities to relax some of the regulations. Cars were permitted to drive on dipped headlights but had to be fitted with slit masks, indicators and brake lights had to be dimmed and reversing lights were banned. To make the cars easier to be seen, bumpers and running boards were required to be painted with matt white paint. To assist nocturnal drivers in finding their way about, white lines were painted down the centre of roads and curbs were painted white.
The death toll on the roads continued to be high, forcing the government to reduce the night-time speed limit to 20mph. Pedestrians were warned to keep away from the edge of the pavement and where possible to only cross the road at a proper crossing. Men were encouraged to wear light coloured shirts and keep their shirttails outside of their trousers to aid visibility.

Trains were also completely blacked out to such an extent that it was not always possible to detect the arrival of a train at a platform. With stations in complete darkness, passengers frequently disembarked at the wrong location or even got out at no station at all. Like street curbs, the edges of station platforms were painted white, but the blackout resulted in many accidents.

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It was officially recognised that the dark conditions made young girls and women particularly vulnerable and they were cautioned to take extra care and where possible, avoid being out on their own. Needless to say, the blackout served the criminal fraternity well, with households being particularly vulnerable due to Air Raid regulations. These required all doors to be left unlocked at night so that if a house was bombed rescuers could gain easy access to deal with casualties.

The task of enforcing the rigorous blackout regulations was entrusted to ARP Wardens, like Shuttlefield’s Mr Martin. The Air Raid Wardens Service was established in 1937 when the call had gone out for 800,000 volunteers. Such was the growth in the threat, however, that by the start of the War some 1,000,500 people were involved in ARP services.

Typically, a warden would be allocated to each street and would conduct continuous rounds to ensure that all statutes were being rigorously observed. They were not afraid to angrily identify any household in violation of the rules, so that neighbours were left in no doubt as to who had put their lives at risk. “No. 7, put that light out!”
Those flouting the regulations could expect to face the full force of the law, a stiff fine being the normal penalty. In addition to these duties Wardens were expected to keep a watch out for incendiary bombs and assist with the aftermath of air raids. Such duties included clearing streets where there were unexploded bombs, assisting with the evacuation of casualties from bomb damaged properties, finding temporary accommodation for displaced persons and coordinating the activities of the rescue services. These were dangerous duties and during the War at least 7,000 Wardens lost their lives.

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As to whether the blackout worked, historians now argue that this is unlikely as aircraft were able to navigate by focusing on things like railways, major roads and the reflection off large bodies of water. What it did do, however, was to instil in the civilian population a common purpose and a rule structure that enabled them to cope with privations of that grim time.

The Spitfire Fund: An early take on Crowd Funding – Behind the Episode

Continuing our series of blogs called ‘Behind the Episode’. Our resident aviation expert, Kirsty, will be looking further into the real history threaded throughout our audio drama, particularly the aircraft featured in each episode.

One could be forgiven for thinking that the idea of crowd funding is a relatively recent phenomenon. In fact, it is a concept that has been successfully employed for many centuries to raise money for projects that might otherwise not have seen the light of day. Amongst other things, crowd funding has been used to aid the publication of books, to fund music and the arts, to pay for worthy civic projects such as the plinth for the Statue of Liberty and by the use of War Bonds, even to finance military conflict. And it was an idea that was to be used to great effect when, in May 1940, Lord Beaverbrook was appointed Minister for Aircraft Production.

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Photography by Tom Barker

Still reeling from the aftereffects of the First World War and the Great Depression, Britain was in a poor financial state as, for the second time in a generation, it embarked upon war with Germany. Fiscal constraints had left its armed forces ill prepared and ill equipped to take on the massive demands now being placed upon them. The Royal Air Force had been particularly hard hit, a lack of funds for new equipment forcing it to retain many obsolete aircraft in frontline service. The Luftwaffe, on the other hand, had enjoyed massive investment and had been able to gain invaluable combat experience by its involvement in the Spanish Civil War.

The no-nonsense, bombastic management style of Canadian media tycoon Lord Beaverbrook was exactly what was needed to ramp up aircraft production. Immediately upon his appointment he set about cutting through red-tape and streamlining working practices in order to derive the maximum efficiency from the factories. Many existing managers were dismissed and replaced by foreman and engineers recruited directly from the shop floor. At the end of his first week in office he broadcast an appeal to all aircraft factory workers to accept new rotas which called on them to work both day and night shifts on a seven-day week. He also appealed for redundant garage workers to come forward and join the cause. These actions had the desired effect and within several months monthly production had increased by 200 aircraft. Air Chief Marshall Sir Hugh Dowding, head of Fighter Command during the Battle of Britain, would later comment that these extra fighters were the difference between victory and defeat.

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Photography by Tom Barker

The British public had taken the Spitfire to their hearts from the outset and as war ramped up there were numerous unsolicited enquiries as to how additional aircraft might be financed. Lord Beaverbrook was not slow to recognise that a Government endorsed fund-raising scheme would be a great way to both raise morale and unite the public in a common cause. Thus, the rallying cry went out and the Spitfire Fund was born.

Government Propaganda set the tone; posters adorned with slogans such as “A Spitfire a day keeps the Nazis away”. It also became the custom to inscribe the engine cowlings of aircraft so financed with names chosen by the benefactors, the inscriptions being in 4″ yellow lettering. Whilst most names would reference the village or town who had raised the funds, various sponsoring companies or organisations gave rise to some ingenious names. Woolworths, with their policy of nothing in store costing more than 6d (2 ½ p in today’s money), raised funds for two Spitfires; “Nix Six Primus” and “Nix Six Secundus” whilst the Kennel Club had “The Dog Fighter” (Mrs Holt would be pleased!)

Anxious not to price the aircraft beyond the reach of most respective fund-raisers, Beaverbrook listed the cost of a Spitfire as being £5,000. In reality, the actual cost was closer to £12,000. It is a problem that Katherine Winters touches upon in a conversation with her sister Ruby:
“Cost of fuselage, two thousand five hundred pounds; cost of engine, two thousand pounds; wings, one thousand eight hundred; undercarriage, eight hundred; guns, eight hundred; tail, five hundred – Propeller, three hundred and fifty; petrol tank (top), forty pounds; petrol tank (bottom), twenty five pounds; oil tank, twenty five pounds; compass, five pounds; clock, two pounds, ten shillings; thermometer, one pound, one shilling; sparking plug, eight shillings – So even if we raise the grand total of, what was it – one hundred pounds? We can donate just under one third of a propeller”.
Fortunately, most fund-raisers did not break it down in these terms and were quite unfazed by the challenge.

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Photography by Tom Barker

The call had gone out to individuals, towns and businesses alike and many came up with ingenious ways to fund their own Spitfire. In the Wiltshire village of Market Lavington a life size silhouette of a Spitfire was painted in the square and residents were challenged to fill it with coins, a task that was completed in a matter of days. Numerous raffles and sponsored events were held throughout the country with local communities outbidding each other in their attempts to raise the most. Many campaigns were backed by the local newspaper, a fund launched by the Midland Daily Telegraph on 5th July 1940 raising £18,000 in just three weeks, enough to pay for three Spitfire Mk. IIa aircraft. The first of these, christened “City of Coventry I” would serve throughout the war before succumbing to the scrap man in 1946. The other two, “City of Coventry II” and “City of Coventry III” would be less fortunate and would be written off when they collided with each other over Edenbridge on 28th November 1940, sadly claiming the life of one of the pilots.

As to the success of the scheme, depending on whose figures you believe, enough money was generated to pay for approximately 2,600 aircraft, although all donations would have gone into a common government pot rather than paying for a specific Spitfire. It is questionable whether it made any difference to the outcome of the war but it undoubtedly did much to unite the nation in their hour of greatest need.