On the evening of August 27th, members of the Society learned about a WWI tragedy that sadly was probably repeated in hundreds if not thousands of households across the UK during the years 1914-18. 

 

Vanessa Morgan’s talk was based on letters found by a builder in a box in the attic of a house he was renovating and which he handed over to a friend, a history teacher.  They are the correspondence between Margaret Heywood and her son Fred of Victoria Terrace, Whitby Bay.  Fred was called up in his early twenties to do his bit in WWI and joined the Third West Yorkshire Regiment in March 1917.

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His first letter is dated 13 March 1917.  For most of that year he was in camp and the letters refer to the minutiae of camp life, including an episode in which he was confined to barracks for two days because of appearing on parade in unpolished boots!

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January 1918 saw him in France, however, and his first letter relates how he is getting used to French money.  He always begins by assuring his Mum that he is OK, and praying for her and for his sweetheart Alice. He is a regular and articulate correspondent, writing practically every day; his mother too replies faithfully to all his letters, although as might be expected her replies tend to arrive in bundles. (On January 23rd he complains that he has had no letters, but on January 27th gets over three weeks’ worth of his Mum’s letters all at once.)  He is continually advising her to register packages (apparently he has to collect a registered parcel himself whereas unregistered post passes through the hands of several, sometimes sticky-fingered, individuals). These letters from her to Fred have not survived.

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Money, preferably in francs, is always in demand, as are cigarettes and razor blades.  The tone of the letters on both sides is generally cheerful, but sombre notes do creep in – reflections on religion and life in general, a reference to food rationing at home and so forth.  In February Fred had his first taste of “old Fritz”, which he didn’t like, but which he survived.

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But at the end of March 1918 Fred’s side of the correspondence stops, and his mother’s letters begin to be returned.  In the first of the returned letters Margaret refers to the “Big Push” and to German successes which have been reported.  By March 31st she complains that she hasn’t heard for ten days, although Alice apparently has had a letter. Throughout April she keeps sending cigarettes and copies of the local newspapers that Fred likes to receive. Then she writes to a friend of Fred’s, one Willie Turnbull who is based quite close to where Fred is meant to be. And so it goes on: she keeps telling herself no news is good news, she keeps sending parcels.

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In May 1918 she hears from a Captain Charles McAllister that Fred was reported missing on 28 March, so she writes to the Office of the Prisoner of War Committee; her letter is acknowledged but there is no reference to Fred being a prisoner.  Margaret contacts any of Fred’s friends she can think of, and also the Royal Army Medical Corps to see if he is among the wounded, but no joy.

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The war ended with no news of Fred having been received. On 29th April 1919, however Margaret received formal notification that Fred (20376 Private F Heywood)  had gone missing on 28 March 1918, presumed died on or after that date.

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Margaret herself died in 1943 aged 87.  As Alice was only referred to by her first name, she could not be traced.

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The audience was understandably subdued after the talk, which had been very sad – a tragedy indeed, but one which was no doubt repeated in hundreds if not thousands of instances over the course of WWI.