From 1939 till 1945 beer maintained the morale of Australians serving on all fronts in World War Two. In The Sunburnt Country, Russell Braddon wrote:

"The first sound heard from any Australian convoy arriving in any foreign port will always be the cry, ‘How’s the beer?’ If the beer is bad, then that particular country will be an unpopular one, and should the beer be non-existent, then that country becomes anathema.  …

Without any doubt at all, the most debated aspect of logistics with the Australian garrisons in Tobruk, Palestine, Malaya, New Guinea … was not the supply of guns, vehicles or ammunition. It was the guaranteeing of a minimum number of bottles of beer per man per month."

A man serving in the hot North African theatre, fighting against the Germans, Italians and (Vichy) French was entitled to a ration of 3/5ths of a bottle a day (when available). These blokes from a unit based in North Africa arranged their empties to show the folks back home what a man needs most when living on a front where every day could be his last:

On the homefront, there were shortages of beer throughout the war. Publicans charged exorbitant prices and only US servicemen were said to be able to afford bottled beer. Home brewing was still illegal but become very popular and its prevalence continued to grow after the war. Cyril Pearl describes the semi-clandestine acts of civil disobedience in Beer, Glorious Beer:

"[T]he shortage of beer during and for some years after World War II led to a big revival of home-brewing in Australia. Kerosene-tins, of four gallons capacity, were the standard vessel for brewing in, and the wash-house or garage (with the door discretely closed) the most popular site for the operation. … It was said that the smell of hops and malt which hung perpetually and pervasively over the [Sydney] peninsula was so strong that ferry-boat captains crawling up the Harbour on dark nights could navigate by it. … This boom in home-brewing led to a great demand for the vital ingredient, malt. [M]ost wash-house brewers, including myself, compromised with malt extract, a commodity stocked by chemists, and intended, I understand, to promote the health and happiness of infants. It certainly promoted the happiness, if not the health of my neighbours. Astonished chemists were unable to keep up with the increasing demand for tins of malt extract, a demand which at first they attributed to a surprising rise in the local birth-rate. … In the early days of home-brewing, it was possible to buy a billycan of brewer’s yeast [from the breweries]. … This, is like malt extract, was allegedly consumed therapeutically. It was said to be a specific against eczema, pimples, blackheads, acne and other unpleasant and anti-social skin conditions. The breweries must have become suspicious when streams of young men and women, all with radiantly healthy complexions, queued up day after day for their shilling’s worth of therapeutic yeast."

Of course, much has happened since the war, and we are busy documenting it for your pleasure.  

To be continued!

Take a break from drinking like the author of this article did - Read why and how in his book Between Drinks: Escape the Routine, Take Control and Join the Clear Thinkers