A camp director remembers World War II

Camping Magazine, July-August, 2003 by Helen Herz Cohen

Running a camp during World War II took creativity, ingenuity, and some sacrifice. While friends and family were being asked to give their lives for our country, those of us at camp wanted to do our share. We wanted to provide our campers -- eighty girls who were twelve to sixteen years old -- with good memories of their time at camp, but at the same time, we knew it wouldn't always be easy.

Food Rations at Camp

As Americans, we were accustomed to an abundance of food and other goods as a part of our lives, and I think the most obvious adjustment to the war took place in our kitchen and dining room. When restrictions were imposed, we were willing to cooperate and anxious to sacrifice. Early in the war, the Federal War Board placed restrictions on all residents for amounts of sugar, coffee, meat, and gasoline. Every person in the United States was issued an allotment of these commodities in the form of stamps. Before the camp season started, we required each camper and staff member to send us the allotted stamps for the eight weeks of camp -- in those days we had one session that lasted eight weeks -- not numerous shorter sessions. We turned these stamps into the federal agency in charge and were given checkbooks with a total number of credits for all the stamps we had submitted. When we purchased any of these items, we wrote a check for the amount to be delivered.

Obviously, we were restricted in what we served at meals. We understood the limits imposed, and we used our ingenuity to make life at camp as normal as possible. We knew our kitchen staff was honest, but they were often cheated or had their orders changed by the salesmen or the delivery persons. At the end of every week, we would review our remaining stamps and change trips or meals accordingly. And often, we were pressured to break the rules. Among those who pressured us were men involved in organized crime. They tried to bully us into buying meat "under the counter" or gasoline and to have us give them some of our allowance. These were difficult times, and it was truly scary to turn them down.

Campers ate what they were served, and there were no "special" meals for those who had allergies or needed different diets. All the food was made from scratch, and in hindsight I think our girls were lucky that there were no frozen foods available. The counselor at the head of the table served the food, and if you did not like something, you could ask for a "thank you" portion.

The War Effort Meant Beans

As a camp, we were involved in many projects to help the war effort. Every camper and counselor had some relative or good friend who was overseas, and we wanted to feel that we were making a contribution. The first year I tried growing beans in an open field. When I arrived in Maine, the weeds were far healthier than the beans. We gave that up and volunteered our time and efforts by picking beans for local farmers. It was a hot and dusty job. In order to keep the campers working instead of talking, we placed best friends at the ends of the lines -- so that they would want to pick faster and meet up with their friends. The money that we collected from the farmers was sent to refugee camps in Europe.

Sewing Through the War

We had an excellent arts and crafts counselor who knew a great deal about pattern making and sewing. We turned our recreation porch into a sewing room, rented ten sewing machines, and taught the campers how to use them. our patterns for children's clothes, we made cute dresses and overalls to send abroad. Each garment had two pockets, one was filled with a bar of soap and one with a toothbrush. The machines were busy all day long. Every camper gave up at least one period every day to work in the sewing room, and we would regularly ship off six or more cartons with these well-made, wearable garments.

Spotting for Enemy Planes

The four camps in our area cooperated on another war project. We all took part in spotting for enemy planes over Portland Harbor. Early in the season, an officer from the Air Force came to camp for an assembly. He had silhouettes of our aircraft and of the enemy aircraft. Each camp was to take a week on top of Mt. Pleasant watching for enemy planes. This mountain stands alone with a glorious view of the nearby White Mountains on one side and Portland Harbor on the other side. Beneath are the beautiful lakes and streams of the Southern Lake district of Maine. We had teams of six girls each. They climbed Mt. Pleasant with their packs and the food and water that they would need for twenty-four hours. At the end of that time, another group would climb up to relieve them. It was not an easy job.

The job wasn't easy, and neither were the packs to carry. The packs were really bedrolls -- three blankets were stretched on a poncho and folded into an envelope that was held together by large pins, called "blanket pins." Then the bundle was rolled as tightly as possible by a team of two or three girls, and poncho straps were clasped around it. The packs were heavy and clumsy. The thermos jugs we now have were not yet in existence, and most of the water was carried in individual canteens. Although the task was somewhat arduous, everyone pitched in with good humor.