The letters from Rusthall Avenue, a tale from WW1

It’s a funny thing to feel like you know someone when in fact that someone is a complete stranger who actually died long before you were even born.

This is precisely how my dad feels about a forever-young man named Clive Wailes Taylor, who – aged 24 - left his family home in Bedford Park, West London to fight for King and Country in World War One.

Military history has always been Dad’s thing, so I guess you could call it fate that - almost seven decades later - he inadvertently found Clive… in a shoebox. Enquiring about medals in an antiques shop in Walsall, Dad was asked if he might also be interested in the contents of a seemingly discarded old shoebox, stashed-full of ageing letters and telegrams, postmarked France in 1916 and 1917. Intrigued by the irony of lovingly-kept, yet displaced letters, Dad left the shop with box-in-hand.

Like a dog with a bone, Dad immediately began a quest to find out more about the letters to Rusthall Avenue, Bedford Park. The first in the carefully-chronologised pile was a telegram:

18th November 1916

Regret to inform you that 2Lt C.W. Taylor 17 Royal Fusiliers admitted 14 Gen. Hospital Boulogne November 15 with gunshot wounds –arms thigh and head – severe – will send any further reports.

It wasn’t long before Dad had identified the unfortunate subject as Clive.

Name: Clive Wailes Taylor

DOB: 8th May 1891

Siblings: Esther Taylor, Guy Taylor, Bernard Taylor, Doris Taylor

Parents: W H Osborne Taylor, Annie A C Taylor

Address: 105 Rusthall Avenue, Bedford Park, London

Letters from a Sister E Pilkington follow from Clive's hospital bedside in Boulogne-sur-Mer, Northern France, in which she kindly updates Clive’s family on his condition. An insight into Clive’s character springs from her letters.

25th November 1916

It is a pleasure to do anything for him. He is so anxious you should not be worried about him.

And soon enough, albeit with shaky hand, Clive even manages to pen home a letter himself.

Sadly, Clive’s condition deteriorates in early December and the Taylor family at home in London decide that his sister Esther should travel to Boulogne to stay at a hotel close to Clive, in order that she can comfort Clive in his time of need. Following her arrival, she conscientiously and lovingly writes home every day - often more than once.

When Clive’s condition declines yet further, his mother Annie also makes the cross-channel journey to his bedside. Devoted sister Esther continues to write home to siblings:

14 January 1917

Clive simply gazed at Mother and said he had been longing to see her, but did not want to put her to any trouble.

15 February 1917

I expect you saw in yesterday’s papers that Clive is awarded the Military Cross for displaying great courage… I am sure it will buck him up a little as he seemed to think that what he had done was not of much use.

Any optimism fades as it becomes increasingly evident that Clive is losing his fight for survival. After so much suffering he eventually succumbs to his terrible wounds and dies on 25th February 1917, 101 years ago today. Esther is so distressed, she delivers the news almost evasively, unable to bear to use the definitive word ‘death’.

25th February 1917

My dear Doris. This is the most awful letter I have had to write to you…. We stayed with him all the time… He opened his eyes just before and looked quite himself, so we both kissed him and I think they went with his spirit. I think he knew us and then he closed his eyes and looked most beautiful…. Your loving sister. Esther.

Given that fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers from every street in every town endured agonising and pivotal moments opening telegrams and letters, Clive and Esther’s story is not an exceptional one. Families everywhere clung to their stash of letters as substitutes for their sons and such letters are poignant for their simplicity and humanity.

What is exceptional is that their letters of love have both survived and been treasured by a stranger. I hope that a hundred years on, Clive's family - whoever and wherever they may be - will open these letters once more.

Clive Wailes Taylor is buried in Wimereux Cemetery in Northern France.