Post by Matt James on Apr 16, 2009 12:44:38 GMT
Hi All
From 1940 to 1943 I served as a Boy Messenger at Saffron Walden, a small market town in Essex. At that time the population was approx 6000, now very much more
It’s quite a story how I came to get the job in the first place.
With my twin brother (sadly no longer with us) I left school at the age of 14 in March 1940
I managed to get a job at the local workhouse as a junior clerk working in a typical Dickensian office with all old people. A miserable job.
Peter, my twin brother was still looking for a job and one came up for ‘Telegram Boy’ at the local Post Office.
Father promptly took Peter down for the interview with the Postmaster (He always said) “get a job with a pension” Post Office or Railway) and this was.
The Postmaster measured his height and said I am sorry Mr Mann he is an inch too short to reach the pedals of the bicycle.
Not to be outdone, fathers words were “I got another one at home” meaning me and so when I got home to lunch father explained the position to me and asked if I was interested I said yes of course and so I was taken down and got the job. Fate.
I have often wondered what I would have done in life if Peter had been an inch taller He eventually had quite a successful career in Insurance.
And so it all started, I was kitted out with a uniform, boots, shoes, gloves, pill-box hat with peak. pouch for telegrams and of course the, Heavy red bicycle. No nice shiny motor cycle as your web site shows.
There were two of us, I was Number 2. This number was on my brass cap and chest badge which we had to keep clean with Brasso every day.
We had a small room at the rear of the building and were summoned by bell to go to a small hatch in the telegraph room to pick up telegrams for delivery.
The room was very small and there were always lots of people in it, particularly in the winter when we had a large open fire to dry off our clothes in wet weather. It was very popular with the Telephone Engineers who shared the site. For a while also we shared the room with members of the Army Field Postal Section set up to serve the many army camps in the area.
Being a telegram boy during the war was not very pleasant as we had the very unpleasant task of delivering priority telegrams informing next of kin of casualties etc. People must have dreaded seeing us enter their gates.
I delivered many and was always warned of the content which made it worse by the fact we had to stand and wait for the contents to be read.
I can never recall anyone breaking down or being hysterical.
I often look at the names on the War Memorial remembering it was me who delivered the telegram
Many of these were friends, and on two occasions the telegrams reported the deaths of two young men who only a few months previously were telegraphist giving me telegrams to deliver.
We had our lighter moments, like many Post Offices a Home Guard platoon was formed. The Postmaster (a very military looking man) was the C.O. he had the revolver. Somehow he never really looked the part, his ankle putties never looked right
The head postman was a Sergeant with other ranks being given according to seniority. Looking at the Dad’s Army TV programs now makes it seem even funnier
The head postman was in charge of stores and with his other duties he was responsible for issuing clothing, cleaning materials, soap etc and he was very careful and looked upon it as a highly responsible job.
Lamp batteries were in short supply and he would issue us with carbide for our cycle lamps
Anyone who has had experience of carbide will know that it can be a little unstable.
I remember one night during the blackout my front lamp exploded in the middle of the High Street causing people to run outside to see what had happened. I thought it was quite funny.
We had to deliver to the various villages and military establishments outside the town and on one occasion my colleague was travelling to deliver a telegram to an RAF Airfield 4 miles away. He was caught up by one of the telephone engineers on his motorbike and side car and offered to tow him the rest of the way.
A metal pole blocked the entrance into the camp with a large piece of concrete on the end: the sentry standing by would operate this.
The engineer has since told the story that at the time they were travelling at about 30mph and shout to Sam to let go which he did, swinging across the road but did not give the sentry time to put the barrier up and he went straight over the top
He was very lucky to get away with it, finishing minus two front teeth and the cycle written off.
On another occasion I had a telegram to deliver to the same camp during the Battle of Britain and came across a ju88 across the road and the RAF personnel would not let me pass and directed me on a four-mile detour.
At this time an air battle was going on above me, and spent ammunition was falling all around and so decided to take refuge with my bike in a deep ditch until it subsided. I then carried on to find the Airfield had been bombed with several casualties.
We worked two shifts: one was 8am to 5pm, the other a split shift, 9am to 1 pm and 5pm to 9pm. I didn’t like this one because if a telegram came through at 8-55pm I had to take it out however far away it was. The clerks didn’t like it either as they had to wait for our return before they could go.
At the end of three years I had to decide if I wanted a career on the Postal side or Post Office Telephones and I opted for the latter and although it meant going to Norfolk in lodgings and spending the next three years digging trenches and climbing tall telegraph poles I have never regretted it.
After 2 years in the Royal Signals (that’s another story) I returned to Post Office Telephones and finished my working life as a Planning Engineer with B.T.
In all I spent 46 years with the Post Office and BT and enjoyed it
Paul Mann
From 1940 to 1943 I served as a Boy Messenger at Saffron Walden, a small market town in Essex. At that time the population was approx 6000, now very much more
It’s quite a story how I came to get the job in the first place.
With my twin brother (sadly no longer with us) I left school at the age of 14 in March 1940
I managed to get a job at the local workhouse as a junior clerk working in a typical Dickensian office with all old people. A miserable job.
Peter, my twin brother was still looking for a job and one came up for ‘Telegram Boy’ at the local Post Office.
Father promptly took Peter down for the interview with the Postmaster (He always said) “get a job with a pension” Post Office or Railway) and this was.
The Postmaster measured his height and said I am sorry Mr Mann he is an inch too short to reach the pedals of the bicycle.
Not to be outdone, fathers words were “I got another one at home” meaning me and so when I got home to lunch father explained the position to me and asked if I was interested I said yes of course and so I was taken down and got the job. Fate.
I have often wondered what I would have done in life if Peter had been an inch taller He eventually had quite a successful career in Insurance.
And so it all started, I was kitted out with a uniform, boots, shoes, gloves, pill-box hat with peak. pouch for telegrams and of course the, Heavy red bicycle. No nice shiny motor cycle as your web site shows.
There were two of us, I was Number 2. This number was on my brass cap and chest badge which we had to keep clean with Brasso every day.
We had a small room at the rear of the building and were summoned by bell to go to a small hatch in the telegraph room to pick up telegrams for delivery.
The room was very small and there were always lots of people in it, particularly in the winter when we had a large open fire to dry off our clothes in wet weather. It was very popular with the Telephone Engineers who shared the site. For a while also we shared the room with members of the Army Field Postal Section set up to serve the many army camps in the area.
Being a telegram boy during the war was not very pleasant as we had the very unpleasant task of delivering priority telegrams informing next of kin of casualties etc. People must have dreaded seeing us enter their gates.
I delivered many and was always warned of the content which made it worse by the fact we had to stand and wait for the contents to be read.
I can never recall anyone breaking down or being hysterical.
I often look at the names on the War Memorial remembering it was me who delivered the telegram
Many of these were friends, and on two occasions the telegrams reported the deaths of two young men who only a few months previously were telegraphist giving me telegrams to deliver.
We had our lighter moments, like many Post Offices a Home Guard platoon was formed. The Postmaster (a very military looking man) was the C.O. he had the revolver. Somehow he never really looked the part, his ankle putties never looked right
The head postman was a Sergeant with other ranks being given according to seniority. Looking at the Dad’s Army TV programs now makes it seem even funnier
The head postman was in charge of stores and with his other duties he was responsible for issuing clothing, cleaning materials, soap etc and he was very careful and looked upon it as a highly responsible job.
Lamp batteries were in short supply and he would issue us with carbide for our cycle lamps
Anyone who has had experience of carbide will know that it can be a little unstable.
I remember one night during the blackout my front lamp exploded in the middle of the High Street causing people to run outside to see what had happened. I thought it was quite funny.
We had to deliver to the various villages and military establishments outside the town and on one occasion my colleague was travelling to deliver a telegram to an RAF Airfield 4 miles away. He was caught up by one of the telephone engineers on his motorbike and side car and offered to tow him the rest of the way.
A metal pole blocked the entrance into the camp with a large piece of concrete on the end: the sentry standing by would operate this.
The engineer has since told the story that at the time they were travelling at about 30mph and shout to Sam to let go which he did, swinging across the road but did not give the sentry time to put the barrier up and he went straight over the top
He was very lucky to get away with it, finishing minus two front teeth and the cycle written off.
On another occasion I had a telegram to deliver to the same camp during the Battle of Britain and came across a ju88 across the road and the RAF personnel would not let me pass and directed me on a four-mile detour.
At this time an air battle was going on above me, and spent ammunition was falling all around and so decided to take refuge with my bike in a deep ditch until it subsided. I then carried on to find the Airfield had been bombed with several casualties.
We worked two shifts: one was 8am to 5pm, the other a split shift, 9am to 1 pm and 5pm to 9pm. I didn’t like this one because if a telegram came through at 8-55pm I had to take it out however far away it was. The clerks didn’t like it either as they had to wait for our return before they could go.
At the end of three years I had to decide if I wanted a career on the Postal side or Post Office Telephones and I opted for the latter and although it meant going to Norfolk in lodgings and spending the next three years digging trenches and climbing tall telegraph poles I have never regretted it.
After 2 years in the Royal Signals (that’s another story) I returned to Post Office Telephones and finished my working life as a Planning Engineer with B.T.
In all I spent 46 years with the Post Office and BT and enjoyed it
Paul Mann