Have you eaten any home grown vegetables lately? I must admit that I haven’t. After trying to grow my own tomatoes two summers in a row, I conceded to the huge green larvae in our back yard.

During World War II, home grown vegetables were a major part of the American diet. With

war rationing, those on the homefront were strongly encouraged to grow their own “victory

gardens.” An estimated 20.5 million victory gardens produced at least one third of all the

vegetables consumed in the United States in 1943. Men and women on the homefront liked

feeling they were part of the war effort and were often creative in their selection of victory

garden locations. Gardens could be found on rooftops, in parking lots, and even at gas stations!

Listen to Sheril Jankovsky Cunning tell about her family’s victory garden in the book The

Homefront:

“We had the most miserable, hard-as-cement, three-by-five-foot plot of ground, and grew

radishes and carrots as our contribution to the war. But radishes weren’t anybody’s mainstay, and our carrots never got bigger than an inch. Yet we all wanted to do our part for the war. You got caught up in the mesmerizing spirit of patriotism. There was a huge neighborhood lot on our block where many people grew things. You could hardly walk in that plot. There were a dozen different kinds of squash, corn everywhere, beans growing on poles taller than my head. As a child it seemed like the Garden of Eden. Community spirit always ran high. Everybody grew

something different and traded around.”

Like Sheril’s family, even soldiers on the homefront participated in the victory garden

movement. My great grandfather, Willis C. Barry, farmed for the soldiers at Fort McClellan for

fifty cents an hour. He grew corn, tomatoes, beans, onions, and more for the soldiers. What have you grown lately? Ready to grow your own victory garden?

“So, you’re the one who’s going to attend to our little victory garden here,” the

soldier said and extended his hand. Carson met it with his own.

“I suppose so.”

The older man was about his height, wore thick glasses, and was slim. He

looked more like a banker than a soldier and didn’t match any of Carson’s

preconceived notions about what men in the Army should look like.

Songbird, Chapter 19