I was a Truby King baby - born in 1947. My mother did breastfeed us, but it was four-hourly from the start, to the minute. She thought she was doing the best for us by giving us a routine, she said. She shared Truby King's idea that too much fussing and cuddling "spoiled" a child, so she rarely cuddled us. We had a good daddy, though, and he was far more demonstrative.
Night feeds were never given, not even to newborns. If a baby woke through the night, the most it would have was a sip of boiled water from a cup. Crying was "good for the lungs", and in any case, a crying baby whose cries are ignored soon learns not to cry.
We were put out in the garden to sleep in the pram - or cry - between feeds, in all weathers (and this was Scotland). Mother used to tell me that my brother would cry furiously, so much so that an elderly neighbour used to come to the door to tell her "the wean's been greetin' for an hour". Mum would tell her that it wasn't time for his feed and that he'd be picked up when it was time. I, on the other hand, "never cried much".
Needless to say, my brother and I have had depressive episodes all our lives. Possibly our mother shouldn't have had children - her own childhood had been tragic and she seemed incapable of putting her babies first. Perhaps fortunately, she started a business when we were tiny, and our care was then left to others, though we really wanted her, despite everything.
Oh, and "holding out". Nappies were a huge chore for a 40s mother, so it was in her interests to prevent as many dirty ones as possible. Holding a baby out (over a potty) after a feed was the norm; if you held the baby long enough, something would be produced. My mother didn't believe in rubber pants either, so we were put in a terry nappy with a muslin one underneath, with a rubber sheet on the cot under the cotton one - I did tell her I thought we must have been soaked through by morning, but she claimed we were fine. Perhaps we were deydrated and therefore not weeing much??
To end on a positive note, my own children have been a joy to me, and proof that you can't ruin a child by loving it. My brother's the same - we used to sit and hold our babies and wonder how our mother could have deprived herself of that pleasure.