On the night of 11 December 1940, air-raid sirens blared out over the Essex town of Southend-on-Sea. Newlyweds Stan and Doris King had returned from the sweet factory that they owned to their home on Mount Avenue. But there was little time to head for safety before an enormous explosion was heard.
A bomb had dropped just yards from their home. Miraculously, Stan and Doris survived and none of their neighbours was hurt. Stephen King is their youngest child, and he is fascinated with his parents’ war. “Stan and Doris never talked about the Second World War,” he explains. “They were positive, cheerful people who enjoyed looking to the future.
“I became interested in the war about 10 years ago and started researching its effect on Southend, where I was born in 1947. I was at the Essex Record Office in Chelmsford one day and the archivist showed me a ‘bomb map’. This fascinating record marked the location of every one of the 800 bombs that had fallen on Southend during the Blitz.
“I studied it and was shocked to discover that bomb number 333 exploded near 44 Mount Avenue, where Mum and Dad lived at the time. I was amazed that they had never mentioned it. Suddenly I realised that there was a whole period of my parents’ lives that I knew little about. It was too late to ask them, because they had both passed away, but my curiosity was awakened.”
In a labour of love, Stephen has spent five years researching his father’s wartime service and his mother’s challenge to run their confectionery business and raise a young family. “I started writing up my research for my relations, and self-published it as a book.”
Humbugs and Doodlebugs: A Wartime Story of Seaside Sweetmakers offers a fascinating insight into an era that many of our parents and grandparents lived through. It is also a tender homage to a remarkable couple.
Stanley George King was born in 1911 in Middlesex. Forty years earlier, his grandfather Sam had opened his first sweet factory in Holborn and it became a thriving business. Sweets had historically been the preserve of the wealthy, but in the late 19th century cheap sugar imports made confectionery available to the masses.
Stan trained to be a mechanic and also worked for the family business in South London. In 1936, he met Doris Cockshull at a local dance hall and they started courting. “Dad had a car, an Austin 7 Convertible, and he used to take Mum for days out at the seaside in Southend. It must have become a special place for them.”
In 1937, Stan set up his own confectionery business in Southend with his brother James: J&S King Ltd. They set to work with sugar-boiling equipment, ingredients, sweet moulds, boxes and labels.
Stephen explains, “It was a production line of Black Jacks, seaside rock, humbugs, nut-rock bars and ‘cokernut’ toffee. I remember helping in the sweet factory as a boy and watching my father boil up huge pans of toffee. The smell was amazing.” Demand for seaside treats made the ‘Sweet Kings of Southend’ a thriving concern, and orders flooded in from confectionery shops located across East Anglia, Kent and Sussex.
“It was a production line of Black Jacks, seaside rock, humbugs, nut-rock bars and ‘cokernut’ toffee"
Stan and Doris married in 1940, and set up home in Southend. The area was at risk of invasion, and only residents or those with official permits could enter. Bombs raids were a frequent occurrence, and Spitfires and Messerschmitts fought the Battle of Britain overhead.
After a short spell at the Ford Dagenham motor plant for war work, Stan enlisted in the Royal Army Service Corps (RASC) in 1941. This was the Army’s main transport service. Doris worked hard to keep the confectionery business going with help from Stan’s father Samuel.
Wartime brought desperate tragedy to Stephen’s family. “As a child, I had visited my Uncle James’ grave with my parents and grandparents,” he says. “All I knew was that he had joined the Royal Artillery, and died in a train crash during the war.”
Stephen began researching online, and horrific details emerged. James was killed in a rail disaster on 11 February 1942 at Beighton Station near Sheffield. A troop train carrying 170 sailors and 90 Royal Artillery soldiers was travelling at night. A goods train transporting a massive steel plate had been shunted into a siding and, unknown to its driver and guard, the plate had slid out of place to protrude over the main line. As the troop train sped past the siding the steel plate sliced through three carriages, killing 14 soldiers and injuring many more.
“It was heart-rending to read the old newspaper articles and crash-investigation reports. It brought it all home to me because my middle name is James, after my uncle.
“I can’t imagine the suffering of my parents and grandparents when they were told of his death.” What’s worse, Doris and Stan had to grieve separately because at the time Stan was on an engineer fitter course in Wiltshire.
Stephen was keen to discover more of Stan’s Army service, but all he had to go on was his Army paybook and a letter that gave his RASC regiment number: 486.
A visit to The National Archives at Kew resulted in a huge breakthrough. Records for 486 company were marked “Confidential until 2045”, but Stephen was allowed to read and photograph them.
“A letter Stan sent home told us that he was in the ‘workshop’ group of the 486 because of his mechanical expertise. Finally, I could identify him to a group of about 50 men out of an army of four million, and follow his wartime service across Europe.”
After weeks of gruelling training, Stan was based in barracks across the south and west of England. He saw little of Doris during this time, with just a few weeks’ leave each year. Her life must have been lonely and hard, since there were few relatives living nearby.
In 1942, Doris gave birth to a son John. Having a baby during the war held considerable risk, Stephen reveals: “During air raids, women on the labour ward were told not to get out of bed but to pull meal trolleys over their heads. Bombs could fall at any moment in the hospital grounds, blowing the windows in.”
There were few people to support Doris, and Stan had to wait five weeks to meet his son. “Mum and Dad were a very loving, supportive couple – they wrote to each other almost every day. He was always more worried about the danger to his family than he was for his own safety.”
By 1944, Doris was pregnant again and Stan applied for leave, but it was refused because D-Day was imminent. He wouldn’t get to meet his son Michael until he was 10 months old.
“After the first landings on 6 June, Stan sailed to France a few days later, landing on Juno Beach. He would have driven his lorry off a landing craft onto the beach amid soldiers, vehicles and military equipment. They were still in range of the German artillery, and would have heard battle raging in the distance.
“After the first landings on 6 June, Stan sailed to France a few days later"
“Fortunately, I had a first-hand account of the action 486 company saw, which was given to me by the curator at the Royal Logistics Corps Museum. The book describes how Stan and his comrades worked on the frontline, going ahead of infantry units to repair roads and remake or build bridges. They were just a few hundred yards from the enemy, and often under fire from mortars and shells. Landmines were a constant danger too.”
Stan served in northern France, Belgium and Holland during the war, travelling though smashed-up villages and towns. “He always remembered how skinny the Dutch children were. This was one of the sights that upset him the most.”
By March 1945, Stan was in northern Germany, supporting tanks that on 15 April were part of the task force that liberated Belsen concentration camp. “Dad was two and a half miles from the camp, and would have heard first-hand accounts of the atrocities from other soldiers. I wonder if he ever saw the camp himself?”
Stan was awarded home leave in May 1945 and could finally hold baby Michael. He continued to serve in Germany until 1946, and was promoted to the rank of sergeant. His military conduct was rated “excellent”.
“I can understand now why Stan didn’t want to talk about the war,” says Stephen. “It must have brought back awful memories for him. Mum was fighting her own war at home, trying to run the sweet factory and raise young children amid the constant threat of bombing raids.
“They were a very close and loving couple. I imagine the most challenging part of the war for them was their separation. Discovering more about their wartime experience has been emotional at times, but so rewarding. It has made me appreciate and admire them all the more.”
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