I think the prevailing ethos was to keep a stiff upper lip and carry on as best you could without complaining. My father was killed on active service when I was a baby, and apart from a few photos I never knew him. It was over 50 years later before I found out what had actually happened to him, when my mother had died and her best friend since before WW2 told me about it. As a child I always sensed that it wasn’t a good idea to ask my mother questions about him, and consequently there were a lot of gaps left unfilled. One of the few belongings that were returned to my mum was his mouth organ - I suppose on board ship there wasn’t enough room for a larger instrument. At primary school we were enrolled in a programme of finding pen friends from other places, and we had to write a letter about ourselves and our families. One of the questions you had to answer was ‘What does your father do for a living?’ (Not a very sensitive question in about 1948, I think.) I didn’t know what his job had been in the Navy, so on the basis of the mouth organ, I deduced he must have played to the other sailors to keep their spirits up in battle, so I put Bandmaster, - this being what was painted on the mouth organ! My mum was quite upset when she somehow found out about this, but it sticks in my mind because after all, I was only filling in a gap that she might have done for herself.
