Remember When: Shortages and restrictions of World War II

The joy of an evening of Bingo some 75 years ago proved short-lived for local folks a few days later when they opened their mail.

It was World War II, and they’d been docked vital gasoline ration points for having driven to the Bingo hall. Unbeknownst to the players, federal agents were descending on parking lots at clubs and other venues to check license plates and see who’d been using their rationed gasoline for pleasure instead of work.

People are searching through history today to find parallels to the almost daily tightening of society’s rules as the nation grapples with the coronavirus threat. Some say the best analogy would be the Spanish flu pandemic of 1918.

The World War II period of 1941 to 1945, though, offers parallels of its own, as well as some thought-provoking differences.

Shortages: Whatever we are seeing today, those of the war era were worse. So far, our shortages are minor and temporary, with store shelves quickly restocked as needless panic-buying subsides. Those beginning in 1942 were necessary and more severe.

Because of the military’s great need for rolling stock, Luzerne County was allocated just 840 tires for civilian vehicles in 1942, with coal miners and clergy getting top priority for purchase. Household items – sugar and meat, for instance – could be bought only in the small quantities specified by the books of ration coupons and stamps families were issued. So far, I think we have it way easier.

Government control: Here’s where a loose parallel kicks in. Our news media quickly report mandatory shutdowns of everything from pizza parlors to exercise studios to furniture stores, actions that just a few months ago were on no one’s radar screen.

Wartime diversion of resources from civilian to military brought a parallel effect. The automobile industry in 1942, to cite one example, quickly converted to building tanks and trucks for the military. Food production and distribution were controlled by federal boards, with the military’s needs first – hence the civilian rationing.

The reasons, of course, differ, but in each era the level of government control proved startling to people accustomed to doing pretty much what they wanted when they wanted.

Light Amid Darkness: Wartime restrictions didn’t stop Cole Bros. or Ringling from bringing their circuses to Wyoming Valley in June, 1942, or the Bach Society or the Notre Dame University Band from entertaining local folks that year.

We’re allowed fewer diversions. Our movie theaters, concert halls, libraries, gyms and club rooms are dark because of fear that the coronavirus will spread from the too-close contact of crowds. Score one for the war years.

A Sense of the Heroic: War time brought hard fighting, and tragic loss of life and limb. Home folks knew fear when they huddled together during blackouts or awaited the dreaded telegrams from Washington. But they put stars in their windows and took immense pride in all the service people.

Today, we cannot help but feel the same awe when we see medical personnel rush to the aid of coronavirus victims, knowingly exposing themselves to illness or worse, with no vaccine in sight. We also have to admire the restaurateur and others who adapt to a new reality, no matter what the difficulty.

Comparing eras is always imprecise, especially when a new and threatening reality is still unfolding. About all we can do is what our predecessors did – carry on unflinchingly, knowing that history will say “they did what they had to do – let’s act that way too.”