Civilians took the lead in protecting London; many joined paramilitary organizations such as the Home Guard.

Many civilians slept far from their homes and commuted long hours each day.

Stoically. During the V1 & V2 blitz on London, we 'lived' in the Anderson shelter, and it was difficult to go back into the house to prepare any hot food. (I was five a couple of days before war was declared, evacuated for a year, but taken home by my mother, owing to neglect.) My brother and I kept watch whilst the neighbours in our row of terrace houses in Plumstead left their shelters, and when we saw a buzz-bomb approaching, with its murderous trail of flame, we sounded an old motor-horn and our neighbours rushed back to their respective shelters. My mother passed the time in the shelter by getting us to recite our multiplication tables, and tested our spelling, both of which are still excellent! The V1's were psychologically worse than the V2, as they would cut out overhead, and one would start counting the seconds until they crashed. The almshouses to the rear of our house were completely obliterated. Kings Warren School, which I eventually attended after the war, had the end section destroyed and it was many years before it was rebuilt. We survived on very little food, as it was so difficult to get enough into the London area to feed the population. My grandmother worked at the Woolwich Arsenal and survived a direct hit on her place of work by diving under a metal table - most of her fellow workers died. Her sister, my great auntie Bridgie, was killed using an indoor shelter in her own home - they were useless against a direct hit. My grandmother's cat, called Ginniepuss (he was ginger) was killed by a piece of shrapnel which embedded into his head.
The sky was filled with barrage balloons, searchlights, dog-fights, bombers passing to and fro, and the house was shaken by the boom of guns being tested in the Woolwich Arsenal - a mad mad world - we were deprived, cold, tired, hungry, but oh so stoic!