The Professor and The Fabled Fifteen


The fighters are first. Their folding wings lock in place, their two thousand horsepower Pratt and Whitney engines rev and kick to life. Behind them the Avenger Torpedoes get in position, followed by the Helldiver bombers.

Singer on deck in his Hellcat

Singer on deck in his Hellcat


Arthur Singer Jr. sits in his plane. His parachute harness tight around his flying suit, the one he had the parachute riggers sew extra pockets on. The propeller blast blows into his open cockpit, the roar of dozens of engines on deck deafen him. The first plane goes, edging down the carrier till it takes to the sky. Singer watches the man on deck, waits for the signal. When he gets it, he speeds down the flight deck, the plane vibrates as it reaches take off speed. He opens the throttle, faster and faster, shaking and rattling till the rumble of the deck is gone and there is nothing around him but air and sea.


The Hellcat drops for moment -a feeling Singer’s felt dozens of times, but one that always gives him a thrill- then it climbs skyward. Singer is twenty-three and handsome. He’s a fighter pilot, an Ace. That means he’s cocky and aggressive with a killer’s instinct. He flamed his first zero off Saipan. He got two more over Rota when he was jumped by four Japanese fighters. The first exploded, the second trailed fire into the sea. On a Photo Recon over Ie Shima he met a squadron of Japanese bombers, he shot down four of them single-handedly.

Arthur Singer Jr.

Arthur Singer Jr.


Singer’s squadron is Fighter Group 15, a squadron of aces. They call themselves “Satan’s Playmates” but they’ll be remembered by another name: “The Fabled Fifteen”.


In ten minutes or so, the whole Air Group is launched. The planes claw higher and higher, till their ship, the USS Essex,looks like a pebble in a desert. They are joined by aircraft from other carriers, till the sky glitters with planes.


Below them is Task Force 38, spread out for miles in all directions. In the center, the most valuable ship, the Aircraft Carrier. Back in 1942, there might have been one or two Carriers but in October 1944 there are six or eight or twelve carriers, and that’s just one Task Force. One group of ships in the most powerful maritime force the earth has ever seen, the United States Navy. The planes climb until they reach twelve or fifteen thousand feet. The ships below grow smaller till they seem to sit motionless on the ocean. The Avengers form in diamonds of four planes, two in front, two split out on the side. Higher up, Helldivers separate into divisions of six planes, split in three plane V formations. On the very top, in Echelon fours, are the fighters, the Hellcats.


Hellcats in flight

Hellcats in flight

The planes circle and wait. Last night, October 24th, enemy ships were spotted. Now on the 25th, scout planes are out trying to find them again. Somewhere out there is the Japanese Navy. Destroyers, cruisers, battleships and aircraft carriers, four of them. One of them is the last remaining carrier from the attack on Hawaii on December 7th, the Zuikaku. The Americans want the Zuikaku; they want to sink the last reminder of Pearl Harbor. The Japanese know what the sinking means for the Americans and they will use it against them. They form Zuikaku and her fellow carriers into their Northern Force. The Northern Force will steam toward Task Force 38 and the 3rd fleet of which she is part of. The Japanese carrier’s mission is not to win. Their mission is to get the American force to follow them. The Japanese know they have no chance, they know they are floating ghosts. If they meet the bombs and guns of the U.S. 3rd Fleet the Japanese will have succeeded. It means they drew the powerful force away from the weak American Invasion Fleet, and the carrier-less Japanese Central Force of battleships can move in and destroy the invasion force before it hits Leyte.

Aboard the Essex heading to the Flight Deck

Aboard the Essex heading to the Flight Deck

At 7:10 AM a scout plane relocates the Japanese ships. The Air Group heads to intercept. Singer knows what combat is like. He’s been in it for almost half a year. He knows how the blue sea gives ways to turquoise reefs, sandy beaches and lush jungle. He’ll go in first, with the fighters. They’ll clear the skies then strafe the ground, open the way for the bombers. If a pilot gets hit, and he’s lucky, it’s quick. He smashes into a pulp and burns to nothing when his plane hits the ground. If he’s not, it takes longer. He’ll trail smoke, losing fuel and oil pressure until he has to bail out or ditch in the ocean. Maybe he’ll be rescued, maybe he’ll be taken prisoner. Or maybe he’ll be alone, drifting for days under the sun with no shelter, living on hope; hope that holds out longer than survival rations or fresh water; hope that keeps a man going until he realizes it’s all a sham, and he disappears without a trace. 

The American Air Group flies onward. On the horizon are small shapes that get larger with each passing minute. Long block-like objects, big and small, surrounding four flat ones, aircraft carriers. There are more shapes in the sky above, enemy planes. The Japanese fighters peel off and head for the American Air Group. They go for the Helldivers, dropping in from 9,000 feet above them. Machine gun and cannon fire racks the formation. The Hellcats rise to meet the Zeros, breaking them up.

Arthur Singer Jr.'s Flying Suit

Arthur Singer Jr.’s Flying Suit

Aerial Combat is not pleasant. It’s like a roller coaster, only there’s no rail and you’re going over two hundred miles an hour. Singer’s head snaps back and forth as he twists and dives. He downs a Zero, flame streaks from its engines as it falls. He sees another, making a rising turn, he shoots and pieces fly off it as it screams by. Singer doesn’t have time to chase it, his wingman spots four other Japanese and they go after them. Tracers fly under Singer’s wing. He snap rolls right, but the Zero is still with him, he twists and turns but the enemy follows his every move. Another Zero comes to join the hunt, sensing blood. For an instant, the second Zero passes before his sights and Singer lets off a long range deflection shot. Smoke pours from the Zero but Singer can’t watch, the first Zero is still stuck to his tail. The pilot is good, Singer can’t shake him. The nimble zero turns with the Hellcat, matching it move for move. The Japanese gunsight inches onto the American, it won’t take long before it passes him with enough lead to open fire on a moving target.

Singer slams his controls forward, his plane goes in a dive:7,000 feet, 6,000 feet, 5,000… The Zero follows, waiting to open up with its machines guns to get the range, then start with the large wing mounted twenty-millimeter cannons. The stick goes hard in Singer’s hand, the engine whines as momentum increases. The plane vibrates as it goes straight down towards the water. 4,000 feet, 3,600, 3,500, 3,400… at 3,000 feet Singer pulls out and jerks the stick right. The sudden change of direction yanks him in his seat. The windshield fogs up in the warmer lower altitude. Singer looks behind, above, to his right and left. Nothing. Maybe he lost the Zero in the dive, but he doesn’t think so. The pilot was too tenacious, too good. He looks again, all over, then he catches a glimpse of something moving through the thawing edges of his windshield. It’s the Zero. It comes head on, wings spitting fire. Singer pushes his trigger, the Hellcat vibrates as its machine guns empty their load. They catch the Zero as the two meet, the Japanese airplane explodes almost on top of him.

Singer after combat with a bullet hole in his windshield

Singer after combat with a bullet hole in his windshield

When October 25th is over, the
Zuikaku is underwater. All three other carriers in the Japanese force, the Chiyoda, Zuiho and Chitose also sink. The last of the ships that were the pride of the Imperial Navy are below the waves. But they did their job. The lured the U.S. 3rd fleet away to attack them. Their loss allowed the Japanese a crack at the unguarded American Leyte Invasion Force, who by luck and determination held out with the loss of a carrier, two destroyers and a destroyer escort.


In their six month tour of duty VF-15, Satan’s Playmate’s, shot down 310 enemy planes in aerial combat, the highest scoring Fighter Squadron in US Naval history for a single deployment. Twenty-six of them became aces. Arthur Singer Jr. finished as a double ace with ten victories, one of only sixty-five men to reach that status in the entire U.S. Navy.

Aces of VF-15. Singer in back row second from left

Aces of VF-15. Singer in back row second from left

When peace came, Singer put the war behind him and moved on. He earned a PhD. and became a professor at San Diego State University. The man with a killer’s instinct for combat spent the rest of his life teaching education. He became a member of the Council for Exceptional Children and the California Faculty Association. When the Professor died in 2004 his obituary made no mention of Arthur Singer Jr., Ace pilot in the Navy’s premier fighter squadron. It made no mention of his air battles in the Marianas and the Philippines with the Fabled Fifteen. The obituary only made a brief note that “he served as a Naval Aviator in World War Two” then went on to the important things, what made Arthur Singer Jr. more proud of than his kills in the air: his academic accomplishments, his teaching and professorship, enriching lives rather than taking them.

Arthur Singer and his wife

Arthur Singer Jr. and his wife


Happy 2014

Happy New year to everyone. I appreciate your reading and apologize for lack of recent posts. I hope to add a lot more in 2014.
I look forward to reading your work and hearing from you as well!

Happy New Year!

Side Effects


In 1942, as war entered American life, a non-profit, government funded group called the Council on Books in Wartime was created and staffed by some of the largest names in the publishing business. The Council’s aim was to maintain the will to fight through information, printing books about how the war was being won and about the enemy. Books, the council felt were the “Weapons in the War of Ideas”.

For men and women serving overseas boredom was a more persistent enemy than the Germans or the Japanese. The Council on Books in Wartime felt reading was the perfect solution and endeavored to get books to soldiers. Believing in  the patriotic and generous American spirit the council organized book donation drives. Americans responded, donating thousands of books. The drive was a great victory but the victor was the American public.

Emblem of the Council on Books in Wartime

Emblem of the Council on Books in Wartime

Although the Council netted large numbers of books, the majority of tomes would put a strain on a soldier’s attention span. The Council book drives had given the public a chance to pass on volumes no one would want to read while feeling patriotic about doing it. In May of 1943 the Council decided “American soldiers were going to have books, even if the Army had to buy them itself”. A plan was drafted to purchase an initial 50,000 books for the armed forces. But this plan was not a solution.

Even with reading material available, soldiers weighed down with army equipment did not have room to carry a hardbound novel, even paperback books were not pocket sized. The Council decided the best answer to the problem would be to print the books themselves. Using magazine rotary presses thousands of books could be made to give to bored soldiers. From a business standpoint, it gave publishing houses a cheap, easy way to expose a captive new market to reading. The solution seemed obvious but there was one problem—money.

The problem wasn’t finding the cash to print the books or distributing them. The problem was if popular books were given away, who would buy them after the war? Publishing houses would be flooding the market with free books that could be taken home and sold second hand when the boys came home. Companies would be giving away millions of dollars worth of a reusable products, cheating authors and booksellers out of business by a good but unsound patriotic deed. The problem was solved in two ways: one, books for the armed forces would only be available overseas, not competing with the US market. And two, they would be printed on cheap paper that would fall apart with multiple readings.

Actually printing the books proved challenging. The rotary printing presses available were designed to print magazines not books. To navigate around this problem, two separate books were printed as one, magazine size, one on top of the other, then cut in half. Short paged books were printed in Reader’s Digest size and long volumes in pulp magazine size resulting in books measuring 5 1/2 by 3 7/8 inches or 6 1/2 by 4 1/2 inches respectively. The books were sold to the military at cost of about six cents per volume plus ten percent overhead, with authors and publishers receiving a half cent each per book.

Soldier on a troopship reading an Armed Service Edition book.

Soldier on a troopship reading an Armed Service Edition book.

Inside cover of an Armed Service Edition book

Inside cover of an Armed Service Edition book

Armed Service Edition books

Armed Service Edition books

Titles were decided upon by a committee that tried to cater to “all levels of tastes within reasonable limits” and had to be acceptable to both the Army and the Navy. Minor disagreements arose between the committee which wanted to print serious literary works, and the Army that wanted popular best sellers, westerns and mysteries, while the Navy held opinions somewhere in between the other two. Works deemed anti-democratic, offensive to an ally or religious or racial group were excluded.

Starting in September 1943, Armed Service Edition books found their way to the front line in the Pacific as men traveled from island to island before entering the combat zone. In England in June 1944, each soldier boarding an invasion ship for Normandy was given an Armed Service Edition book. Newspapers reported at the time that, although many things were found discarded from soldiers packs before going into D-Day, not a single book was left behind.

From 1943 to 1947 nearly 123 million copies of 1,322 different titles on all subjects were printed and became the only type of book reliably  available to service personnel overseas. Authors received hundreds of letters from people who before the war had never finished reading a single book. Some would meet ex-servicemen years later telling them how they had read their book in a foxhole in France, in some Pacific jungle, or in a frigid Alaskan or Icelandic outpost. The most reprinted book was Webster’s New Handy Dictionary, a book that depression kids with little education wanted to help them understand the new written world given them.

The men and women of World War Two came home with something other than memories of war, they came back with educations in history, the arts, poetry, science and popular fiction, all from little books named Armed Service Editions, a side effect of a war.

Ink for Ammunition

Mr. Hook

Mr. Hook

In 1942, Henry K. Ketcham was sworn into the Naval Reserve. Henry was from Washington State, where he had dropped out of college in his freshman year.  He had hitchhiked to Los Angeles, California in 1938 where he lived until he joined The Navy.

Navy poster with artwork by Henry Ketcham

Navy poster with artwork by Henry Ketcham

Mr. Hook eyes his target after coming home rich on war bonds

Mr. Hook eyes his target after coming home rich from investing in war bonds

The War brought thousands of men like Henry together; Americans who were ready to serve their country in its time of need. Henry was going to fight the Japanese and his weapon would be his pen.
Henry was an animator. He had worked on Woody Woodpecker films until he made it to the big show at Disney, working on films like Bambi, Pinocchio and Fantasia. Studios such as Disney and Warner Brothers threw themselves into supporting the war effort by designing insignias and creating military films.

Many of Hollywood’s best and most talented men served their country in the Armed Forces. Henry’s job was to make war posters. He came up with catchy slogans mixed with funny pictures: A fat sailor eying a curvy beauty is told to  “Watch your own waistline”  being reminded that “Food is scarce, don’t waste it on your waist!”. Cartoons were a fun and innocuous way to teach and indoctrinate. It gave Henry an outlet for his humor and creativity. He created Half Hitch, a comic strip about everyday navy life.

He also worked on propaganda films for The Navy. He created a character named Mr. Hook,  a sailor who fought treacherous, buck-toothed Japanese. Henry wrote four short films with titles like “Tokyo Woes” and “Take heed Mr. Tojo” featuring Mr. Hook  winning his battles by using war bonds.  Henry reminded the viewers to “Sink the Rising Sun with war bonds as your gun. War Bonds are ammunition!” and “Be a hero down a Zero with war bonds”.

Ketcham at work for the US Navy

Ketcham at work for the US Navy

Henry also appreciated women and the roles they played in providing humor for a male audience. Wolves were a common way of depicting overactive and excited males. One of Henry’s works of this period was entitled “COMWOLFPAC STAFF” a play on navy acronyms of “Com” short for “Commander” and “Pac” for “Pacific”. One wonders how much of Henry’s art imitated his own life.

Henry served in The Navy until 1946 when he returned to being a civilian. He married and had a son.  He changed his focus from animation to comic strips. He started to sign his work “Hank Ketcham” and in 1951 created a character based on his son entitled “Dennis the Menace”.

Zero being attacked by War Bond in "Take heed Mr. Tojo"

Zero being attacked by War Bonds in “Take heed Mr. Tojo”

Ketcham's "ComWolfPac Staff"

Ketcham’s “ComWolfPac Staff”

Henry’s four years in World War II continued to find it’s way into his work.  Dennis the Menace’s father Henry was a navy man and Henry’s wartime character Half Hitch was revived into a comic strip in the 1960’s.

Though The War was just an interlude in his career, Henry Ketcham and many other talented young men and women served their country in its time of need, using their wit as a weapon and ink for ammunition.

Casualties of War

Blue and Gray symbol of the 29th Infantry Division

Blue and Gray symbol of the 29th Infantry Division

When John Gallaher McConnell was old enough to go to war his father told him two things: one, he would be going to England for the drive on France, and two, be careful of Scots, they anger quickly.

John’s father, Alfred, was a coal miner who had experience with Scots. He had married one. Together the elder McConnells raised John and his three older brothers in Moundsville, West Virginia. The town was tight knit, and diverse. Native West Virginians lived with and intermarried people from Germany, Austria, Poland and Hungary.

John's letter to his mother January 2nd 1944: Dear Mom, If you do not get this letter let me know and I will mail it. I cannot tell you where I am because I am not there. I can't tell you where I am going because I haven't gone yet. I am not back yet because I haven't gone yet. I don't know what I am going to do because I haven't done it yet. Well all joking aside, I am in New York City on a pass. I am stationed at Camp Shanks N.Y. and don't know where I am going nor when. I hope I go where Paul is but I am not that lucky

John’s letter to his mother January 2nd 1944:
Dear Mom,
If you do not get this letter let me know and I will mail it.
I cannot tell you where I am because I am not there. I can’t tell you where I am going because I haven’t gone yet. I am not back yet because I haven’t gone yet. I don’t know what I am going to do because I haven’t done it yet.
Well all joking aside, I am in New York City on a pass. I am stationed at Camp Shanks N.Y. and don’t know where I am going nor when. I hope I go where Paul is but I am not that lucky

When John joined the army he was sent to the Infantry. He spent New Year’s 1944 in New York City. By February he was sailing overseas. John’s father’s guess was correct. John went to England. John wrote his family. He saw his brother in London and experienced the wartime blackout. He sent his money home and invested in war bonds. He wanted the money to start his own small business when he was back in West Virginia. He wrote his father asking him join him in business. He didn’t want either of them to worry about someone else telling them what and how to do things anymore. The nineteen year old had  plans for his future. He just had to survive until he could make them happen.

Private McConnell was assigned to Company C, 175th Infantry Regiment of the  29th Infantry Division. They wore a blue and gray yin-yang symbol on their shoulders and helmets. The blue and gray represented the Union and Confederate background of the states from which the men came. The 29th Division had been in England since 1942. The 29th impressed the generals in training enough to be picked for the first wave of the D-Day assault. The generals weren’t worried about the beaches anyway. The navy and air force would destroy any defenses before the men got there. The tough battles would be inland.

John McConnell landed on Omaha Beach on D-Day plus one, June 7th. The 175th was the reserve regiment. They had waited offshore as other two regiments of the 29th landed on June 6th. The day after D-Day Omaha Beach was still not secured. Machine gun and sniper fire came in on the men and landing craft exploded when they hit underwater mines. The shore was covered with metal remnants from the invasion. Bodies floated in on the tide and littered the shore. The dead were 29th Division men. Men who had trained two years to fight and died within minutes. They lay in contorted forms in their own blood. The only thing the men of the 175th could do for their comrades was try not to step on them.

The helmet John McConnell wore through the war

The helmet John McConnell wore through the war

In Normandy, the nineteen year old from Moundsville was thrown into small towns like Gruchy and Isigny.  He fought his way across the Aure River. As the army advanced from the shore towns to the hedgerow country, the terrain changed to sunken lanes and massive walls of brush that blocked out the light. Dead cattle lay bloated in the sun alongside bodies of soldiers. The Germans waited in the hedgerows until the Americans were at point blank range before opening fire. The 29th took heavy losses; some companies losing almost every man within weeks of the invasion.

29th Division men rest during the battle for Brest, France

29th Division men rest during the battle for Brest, France

John learned how to act in combat. He learned the hard way: making assaults on towns and flanking farmhouses through open fields under machine gun fire. He learned to kill or be killed. He survived. By July he was promoted to Private First Class and took part in the attack on St. Lo. He fought in the French port of Brest in September. By October he was a Staff Sergeant, one of few original men left. The kid whose brothers used to tease him about being a brat was a squad leader. The “brat” now commanded men in battle.

On November 19th, 1944, the 29th Infantry Division was fighting through West Germany. The 175th was attacking the town of Schleiden. John’s Company C gave fire support to other 175th men who moved forward with chemical mortars and tanks. The enemy was not eager to surrender. It had taken two days of killing before Schleiden was in U.S. hands. The town was no different than the dozens of small towns the 29th had gone through in six months of fighting. It cost the lives of friends and exterminated those of the enemy. The shattered streets and smashed houses held mangled bodies or death from a hidden enemy. Schleiden was no different from the towns before and the towns after. They all smelled of death.  For Staff Sergeant McConnell, Schleiden was the last fight. After six months at the front he was labeled a non-battle casualty and was sent to a hospital off the line.

GI's advancing in towns walk by dead comrades

GI’s advancing in towns walk by dead comrades

When the war was won, John went back to Moundsville, West Virginia. He got married and took a job at Columbia Southern Alkali. America was entering a new age of prosperity but John McConnell had a hard time settling down. Maybe he had trouble at home or perhaps he could not forget what he had seen and did as a nineteen year old in Normandy, Brest, Northern France and the Rhineland. In 1952, at age twenty seven, John McConnell hanged himself.

A picture of John's captioned "My Squad"

A picture of John’s captioned “My Squad”



The war was almost over. Germany in March 1945 was cold and crisp, with a pale gray tint over the ruined countryside. It was quiet as Lieutenant Hecker’s jeep drove down the road. Europe was a hulk of shattered cities. The Third Reich was in ruins, its soldiers surrendering by the thousands to the American Army, but still Germany fought on. Lieutenant Hecker rode with his men, Private First Class William L. Piper and James Wardley.  They had been together through Northern France, the Hurtgen Forest and the Battle of the Bulge. Now they drove in the enemies heartland. Hecker knew the end of the war was in sight. He knew all they needed to do was stay alive a little longer. What he didn’t know was his jeep was driving toward a buried land mine.

Norbert A. Hecker

Norbert A. Hecker

Norbert A. Hecker was a not a soldier by trade. He hadn’t planned on knowing things like range, targeting and trajectory. He was a clerk who compiled reports on factory labor costs and production. When  he graduated college he thought he would be behind a desk not leading men into battle. He entered the army in 1942, and was assigned to the 8th Infantry Division’s 28th Field Artillery code named “Gunshot” .

Lieutenant Hecker was a Forward Observer. His mission was to report where artillery strikes landed and find new targets to attack. Forward Observers had a short life span on the front lines.  It wasn’t just the enemy that was dangerous, if the observer made a mistake and the coordinates were wrong, or someone else was careless, the called in artillery could land short, right on him.

When the 28th Field Artillery sent out fire, they radioed “Gunshot on the way!”. “Gunshot on the way” was friendly artillery that stopped the advancing waves of enemy armor and infantry, “Gunshot on the way” took out gun emplacements slaughtering pinned down American GI’s. It was that call that could make the winning difference on the battlefield. It was men like Norbert Hecker who brought the gunshot down on the enemy. He knew men were counting on him, that he must complete his mission at all cost. His radio calls could mean dozens or hundreds more men going home alive. It was men like Norbert Hecker who made small towns all over the United States proud of their boys.

Lieutenant Hecker in Dress Uniform

Lieutenant Hecker in Dress Uniform

In Hecker’s home town of Menasha, Wisconsin, the local paper followed news about its 1,384 residents serving in the World War. The daily paper got the residents atuned to where its boys were fighting and what they were doing. It gave folks the little picture they wanted to see of the big show; the news about the boys they used to see on the streets and in church. The paper spread news of men and women who had been promoted or seen action in big battles. When a local boy got a medal for heroism, the whole town knew. They also heard when a man was wounded, or when a someone’s son would not be coming home.

If Norbert Hecker and his men had been walking, they would have been safe. The mine in their path was a teller mine; a circular, anti-tank device filled with five and a half kilograms of TNT. It had a high pressure fuse and needed a vehicle to set it off.

Hecker’s jeep exploded when it ignited the weapon.  James Wardley, by some miracle, was unhurt. Bill Piper, was wounded but alive. They found Hecker covered in blood with his eardrums blown out. But he was breathing. The three men helped each other up.  Hecker’s helmet had a huge dent on the top from the exploding debris. Their jeep was destroyed and two of them were wounded. Hecker put his helmet back on, looked at his men, and they continued to the front.  The war wasn’t over yet. Until it was finished, Norbert Hecker would see his mission to the end.

Norbert A. Hecker's wartime mementos.

Norbert A. Hecker’s wartime mementos.

The dent on Lt. Hecker's Helmet

The dent on Lt. Hecker’s Helmet

Eating like there’s a War on


On December 11th 1941,  rubber tires were the first item to be rationed in the United States.  By 1943 almost all consumer goods were rationed including typewriters, gasoline, bicycles, footwear, silk, Nylon, fuel oilww1645-33_500, stoves, dairy products, margarine, processed foods, dried fruits, canned milk, firewood and coal.

In 1942, people at home were encouraged to limit themselves to  2.5 pounds of meat per week or 130 pounds a year. By 1943 meat was rationed and became scarce. Beef in particular was in short supply. The law of the markets clashed with government regulations. Military necessity took precedence for supplies, but the civilian market was hampered by poorly conceived Government Price Administration regulations. Beef, for example, was priced too low for meat packers to make a profit. Meat growers had a supply available but could not get it packed for the consumer. Available meat was not worth the effort of packing for the prices allowed.

A black market for meat not inspected by the government appeared. Farmers who slaughtered their own animals also exempt from the rationing quota.

Meat that did reach the consumer was used to get the maximum benefit  from the limited supply. People were reminded not to waste anything. Special wartime recipe books were written to help families cope with the lack of ingredients and smaller available amounts.

For those who would like to try, here are some wartime recipes. (Click on them to enlarge)

027 (1200x731)021 (1200x831) (2)017 (1200x791)

011 (1200x877)009 (1200x808)004 (1200x807)