To follow Stan's continuing story click on the links below as they appear

INTRODUCTION

I first introduced Stan Mayes to this website under the link WW2 Convoys because I felt Stan had an interesting story to tell of his wartime experiences. I thought it would strike a chord with older seamen and give an insight into really tough times for our younger colleagues. It will take time for me to enter the whole story but I'm sure it will be well received

When Stan kindly forwarded his hand-written manuscript of the full story I was only too pleased to make it a valued addition to my website.

In particular Stan sent me a photo-copy of his old Identity Card that shows in detail the entries made when Britain was recovering from the after-effects of WW2 and rationing was still in force.

Obesity was not an issue in those days and the Merchant Navy was a vital lifeline for our country. Sadly we are no longer the maritime force we once were and only the stories of men like Stan Mayes will remind us all of what we once were.

Some will argue that when the older generation refer to “the good old days” they tend to look back through rose-coloured spectacles. That may very well be the case, but no one can argue against their claim that the Merchant Navy gave a purpose in life to many a young lad seeking direction to his life.

Men like Stan Mayes look back with pride on their time at sea and are ever mindful of the thousands of shipmates who rest for ever beneath the seas they once sailed on.

Though health is an ongoing problem Stan still proudly lays a wreath at the Cenotaph on Remembrance Day on behalf of the Merchant Navy Branch he helped to found. He speaks with affection of the camaraderie that existed among seamen in dangerous times and looks back with pride and satisfaction on his sea career

Gordon Tumber


WORLD WAR TWO . One by one the dwindling number of survivors fade away and all that will be left will be names and words in history books as no longer will there be men and women who speak from experience of those terrible times at sea.  SHIPS . Those floating masses of metal which in years gone by we called home. Some of those ships were like a second home and a good crew were like another family.  Good old days ? There will never again ever be so much camaraderie in the seafaring world as we experienced, and I feel privileged in having shared these experiences and the comradeship. To write one's memoirs is a vanity, but sometimes a vanity with a purpose, as maybe one day my grandchildren will ask the question "What did granddad do in his life?"

 

THE EARLY YEARS & ODD JOBS

I was born on 29th May, 1921, at 122 Argent Street, Grays in Essex. My parents were Edward George and Victoria, nee Sargent- known as Queenie.

A year later we were living in rooms with the family Pastefield at 3 Roseberry Road, Grays, and at this address my brother Leslie was born on 22nd October 1922.

Another year later my parents became tenants of a new council house in Wallace Road, Grays-No16.

At this address my brother Robert was born on 1st July 1924 and I began my first schooling at Quarry Hill Infant School in Grays.

During 1926 my mother developed tuberculosis and spent a long time in hospital in Black Notley, Essex. While she was in hospital we were cared for by my mother’s sister-our Aunt Gladys.

I was seven years old when my mother died of TB.

My father and we boys then went to live with relatives in the village of Corringham in Essex.

My father, brother Bob and I were accommodated at the home of his sister Alice, known to us as Aunt Lal. She had a daughter-Marion.

Brother Les was cared for by our grandmother Nanna who lived at 24, Digby Road. I attended school in Herd Lane and later to Lampitts Hill school.

On 28th September 1929 my father married a widow Maud Hazell who had a son Harry (Nutty) and a daughter Lillian Rose and we then lived together at 23 Digby Road.

During the 1914-18 war my father served in the Royal Fusiliers and saw service in France and Belgium.

On being demobbed in 1919 he obtained work in a margarine factory at Purfleet, Essex. The factory was owned by Van Den Bergh, Jurgens-later known as Stork margarine.

He worked in the dairy for most of his years.

While we lived in Corringham my father cycled to work daily, a distance of fourteen miles.

He retired in 1964 after 45 years service and sadly he passed away on the 29th September 1979 aged 81.

In 1932 when I was eleven years old I became a paper boy, delivering newspapers and magazines every morning to sixty customers in Ward Avenue\and Bradleigh Avenue.

On Friday evenings I made a delivery of the local newspaper, Grays and Tilbury Gazette-now styled Thurrock Gazette. After the Saturday delivery I made the rounds again to collect payment for the papers, which I entered in a notebook.

So in all I made eight deliveries each week and for this I received sixpence (two-and-a-half pence). Of this my stepmother claimed three pence.

When I was thirteen I received nine pence (four-and-a-half pence) per week wages.

At age fourteen I left school and reported to the local Employment Office and my first job was with a one-man business.

He owned a large shed at Tyrrells Corner, Grays and we had a contract to clean, maintain and paint a fleet of lorries owned by the Thames Board Mills at Purfleet.

My job was to clean the oil, grease and dirt from the chassis, axles and wheels with paraffin, then wash them with hit soda water. The Boss would then paint them.

My hours were 8am to 5pm Monday to Friday for nine shillings (45 pence). Needless to say, my clothing was a mess at the end of the first day and on arriving home I received a lot of verbal from my irate stepmother. The next morning she accompanied me to work and after a heated discussion with my boss it was agreed that I would receive another shilling per week as cleaning allowance-nowadays termed “dirty money”.

I left that job after a month.

Then came a period of unemployment and during these times I attended for two evenings each week. We were taught a trade and I recall that I became very interested in carpentry.

My next job was in a bicycle shop in Church Path, Grays where the work entailed cleaning, repairing and painting bikes. This paid eight shillings (forty pence) for a 40-hour week, eight to five. I let after a few weeks.

My next employment was in West Thurrock with the Thurrock Flint Company where a dozen lads were employed in sorting and grading flints after their extraction from chalk from the nearby quarries.

On a high platform 50 feet long and 2o feet above ground level, we lads were spaced five feet apart on the platform.\As flints of various sizes passed us on a conveyor belt we sorted and removed them.

The largest stones were removed by the first two lads, the next size by the next two lads and so on.

The flints were dropped toward the ground below us and consequently pyramids of various sizes built up. Only dust remained on the belt at the end of its run and a foreman stood there to make sue all flints had been removed.

At the end of the day our hands were cut and bleeding-work gloves were unheard of.

On the following days we attempted to relieve the damage to our hands by wrapping pieces of\burlap around them. but this was only partly successful.

As it was a job I disliked and was also underpaid I left after two weeks.

Another period of unemployment followed with sessions at night school, but by no means did it worry me as I always found something to do.

A fleet of sailing barges were owned by a Grays company, E.J. & W Goldsmith Ltd and many of their barges were often at anchor off Grays and waiting for work.

When the crews came ashore in their dinghy I would acre for it while they did their shopping or visited a pub. As the river was tidal I would row or scull the boat to keep it afloat.

When the crews returned they usually gave me a few pennies, so I was paid for doing something I thoroughly enjoyed.

I also had a home made wheelbarrow which I took into fields or along the river bank looking for scrap metal which I sold to a local scrap dealer.

On one occasion when I was caring for a boat for a barge crew I took it up river from Grays to an obsolete jetty where some scrap metal was laying.

I began putting some metal into the boat with the intention of selling it but on hearing someone shouting I jumped into the boat and rowed downriver to the causeway at Grays. There I planned to put the scrap into my wheelbarrow which was hidden behind a shed.

Near the causeway I saw a policeman near the shed so I dumped the metal overboard and casually moored the boat.

The officer came onto the causeway and told me I had been reported as stealing the metal, and that he saw me dumping it.

We then remained there for an hour while the tide ebbed, and when the metal was exposed I went into the mud to recover it and put it into my barrow.

I was then escorted to the police station and charged, and later in court I was given two years probation. The scrap metal was returned to the jetty and a p.s to this is that it was taken again a few days later.

On mentioning this incident to the Mate of a barge, he took his boat during the hours of darkness to the jetty-and removed the scrap.

Another use for the barrow was to take it along the seawall to a paper mills at Purfleet. It was Thames Board Mills and much waste paper was always stowed close to the river side, some of which was bundles of newly printed but unsold magazines and comics. I would fill my barrow with these and take them to a stall holder in Grays market and he would pay me for them.

Toward the end of 1935 I began work on a farm at Orsett Heath near Grays. The owner was Hugh Watt.

My job entailed the delivery of milk to customers in Horndon on the Hill- a village three miles from Grays.

I had a trade bike to which a crate of milk bottles was attached to the front, and another to the rear.

Another dozen milkmen were employed at the farm but the deliveries were made by a horse-drawn milk float-no mechanically driven floats in those days.

I liked this job while the weather was fine and I would make an early delivery of milk from 6 a.m, then go on the round again with butter, cheese, margarine and chocolate

bars.

I knew which customers were potential customers of the products and I received commission on sales.

My day's work ended before noon so I had the rest of the day to mess about in boats or whatever.

1936 began with severe weather-snow, ice and freezing fog all through January, and with theseb adverse conditions I found myself pushing the bike for most of the round. Consequently it took much longer.

One morning I left the farm for the early delivery and had to push the bike through deep snow in the country lanes. Crying with the cold and one mile from the farm I suddenly decided I'd had enough. I pushed the bike with its full load into a shallow roadside ditch.

I then ran back to the farm and reported to Mr`Watt that I had skidded on ie and fallen of me bike.

The farmer and I then returned to the scene in a horse-drawn float to salvage the bike and the milk.

As we lifted the bike from the ditch an elderly woman from a nearby cottage called out that she had seen me deliberately push the bike into the ditch.

Without my having a chance to make an excuse or denial, the farmer gave me a slap across the face and told me I was sacked.

Thinking back on those work conditions I don't suppose I was upset at being unemployed again.

My next employment was at a fish and chip shop in Chadwell St Mary near Grays.

The hours I worked would nowadays termed as unsocial. I started at 9.30 a.m and peeled a sack full of potatoes in preperation for making chips.

Potatoes were put into a large drum which was turned by hand until the peel was removed. I performed this work until 11.30 a.m and then began delivering fish and chips to customers homes on my bike.

Customers had regular orders for certain days, and while making these deliveries I would call out 'fish and chips' as rode through the streets. If I received an order it was fulfilled in a few minutes.

I was paid a small commission for gaining extra orders.

In those days the fish and chips were wrapped in old newspapers, and sixpence would buy a large piece of cod and a generous portion of chips.

I worked there for about two months and by that time I was unhappy with the hours which were 9.30\a.m to 1 p.m and then return 5 p.m to 9 p.m. Saturdays was two hours 11 a.m to 1 p.m.

I took more sessions at night school and then I go a job on a farm in East Tilbury-St Clere's Farm.

My day began at 4.30 a.m when I helped the two cowherds to bring in the cows from the fields for milking. They were put into a cowshed for this, and the milk was then passed through filters and into large churns.

A mile from the farm was a recently built shoe factory owned by Bata , and a four-storey accommodaion block had also been built'. This was known as Bata Hotel.

Hundreds of workers were accommodated there and many were from the deprived areas of the North where unemployment was high.

A large canteen occupied the ground floor, and at 7 a.m each morning I would deliver churns of milk to the canteen in time for breakfast.

The cows were later turned out into the fields again and the stalls would be cleaned.

I left this employment after a few weeks, possibly because it was too early a start and was seven miles from home.

Again without a job my barrow came into use again.

One morning I was at the paper mills in Purfleet and loading comics into my barrow when a young lad of my own age came by and called me a thief.

We were soon fighting but were separated by a man who was the father of the boy' He asked me why I was taking the comics.

To this I replied that was unemployed and hungry and would sell them to be able to buy food.

The man Mr Harris told me he had a painting business with a dozen painters on contract work. At the time they were painting the mills internally and the cranes on the wharf.

He offered me a job as tea boy to his gang which I gladly accepted. I was paid 17 shillings (85p) a week which was almost double any previous wages.

As tea boy I would make a large urn of tea for the breaks and also buy loaves of bread, cheese and cooked meats for sandwich making.

We also had a portable cabin for our use.

The painting contract at Purfleet lasted for a month and during that time I became pals with the son of Mr Harris-also named Stanley.

On completion of the paper mills contract the Boss told me he had a contract to paint a newly built power station at Portishead, near Bristol. If my parents consented I could go with them.

. . . .continue


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