'The food isn't up to much and I long to see you again': Poignant letters between mother and soldier son who died in World War One discovered in chest unseen for 100 YEARS
- FEMAIL writer discovers family treasure trove from the First World War
- Her great uncle Charles Harold Reynolds was eldest of Esther's four sons
- He fought at bloody battle of Ypres and killed on 7 August, 1917
- Wrote letters to his 'Darling Mother' from the trenches
- Grief stricken mum kept letters, photos and medals as last link to first born
The small, battered tin trunk wasn't much to look at, with its rusty hinges and dented sides.
But inside were one mother's treasured mementos of the beloved son who got left behind in time having been killed in 1917 during one of the bloodiest battles of the First World War.
The stained, small diary, a caricature sketched in the trenches, treasured photographs and longed-for letters were all perfectly preserved before being packed away and forgotten inside a dusty corner of the attic, unseen for almost 100 years.
The tin trunk was crammed full of personal letters, cards and photographs belonging to Esther commemorating the life of her eldest son, Charles Harold, who was killed in the First World War. Here is a letter addressed to 'My Darling Mother' in which the soldier describes how much he misses her food
Leda's six-year-old daughter Verity peers into the battered tin trunk, which once belonged to her great-great grandmother, Esther Reynolds
Esther Reynolds was already a widow when her son joined the Army to help his mother make ends meet
It was while unpacking boxes following a house move that my six-year-old daughter, Verity, and I stumbled across this treasure trove of memories.
For the trunk had belonged to my great grandmother, Esther Reynolds, whose three sons had dutifully gone off to fight from 1914 to 1918 in the 'war to end all wars' but only two of them had come back, her eldest, Charles, having been killed in August 1917 in Ypres, Belgium.
I had unknowingly inherited the trunk which had been stashed inside an old blanket box belonging to my grandmother, Margaret, which I had just moved between the attics of my various homes.
The chest was the last link a mother had ever had with her son, Charles, who was known to the family by his middle name, Harold.
Carefully bundled together were the letters he'd written to his 'Darling Mother', revealing nothing of the horrors he was facing as a serjeant (sic) with the Royal Field Artillery, but instead comparative trivia such as the food was 'not up to much' and how he longed to see her and eat 'real' food again.
In one of the letters, again addressed to his Darling Mother, he writes: 'I have received your parcel containing pineapple, chocolates, cigarettes and I got it at the time the pineapple was delicious. The banana was crushed but I ate it just the same.'
The stained Soldier's Small Book which had belonged to Harold was found in the trunk
Chatty: In one the letters, Harold thanks his mother for her gift of a pineapple and said although the banana had arrived squashed, he had eaten it
Photographs of Harold were all that Esther had left of her eldest son and even the torn one on the left was among the treasured collection
Referring in the letter to his brother, who was also away fighting, he said: 'I was very pleased to hear that Leslie was alright. It is a very good paper as it tells the truth about the different things that are happening out here.
'I got a letter of the War Budget from Aunt on the same day I got your present. The watch is keeping very good time and is very strong.
'Dear mother, I am still in the best health and hope to remain so and I hope that you are quite alright.
'I hope you will send me that John Bull as it is nothing to write about. Your loving son, Harold.'
There was a photograph of a smiling, handsome man in uniform and I scrutinised the photograph for family resemblances before looking at an accompanying letter from the War Office informing Mrs Reynolds that her son, Charles Harold, had died.
It was a mass produced letter and it showed, with a gap left to insert the name of the recipient. The War Office was under a siege of its own, with inquiries from tens of thousands of frantic mothers, wives and sisters trying in vain to find out why they hadn't heard from their son, husband or brother.
Another letter, obviously in response to a desperate plea for information from Esther, said that Harold had died on August 7,1917, at Ypres, from his wounds and been buried.
The letter from the War Office informing Esther that her son had died from his wounds on 7 August, 1917
The caricature, which was tucked inside the inside cover of the diary, entitled Sonny Jim and signed 'From Archie' and dated 9 February, 1917
The assortment of embroidered remembrance cards, often given to the relatives of those killed in battle, were now the only tangible symbol of Esther's grief.
Having already lost her husband years earlier from pneumonia and with two of three sons - Leslie and Harry (my grandfather) at the Front - her anguish must have been unimaginable.
I wondered, as she must have questioned, whether the irregular, dark brown stain on the cover was Harold's blood.
There was a bronze memorial plaque bearing his name - which I later discovered was issued to all those who had died in the First World War and therefore became known as Dead Men's Pennies - his service medals and bemusedly, an insurance certificate, stating how much Esther would be paid upon his death.
I rang my mother, Margaret, in Lincolnshire to find out what she could tell me. After all, Harold had been her father's brother.
She was amazed at my discovery. 'I didn't know any of this,' she said. 'No one's ever mentioned those letters and things to me.'
Charles, who was known to his family as Harold, circled, enjoys a meal with his Army friends in Hyderabad Sind, India, in 1913
A programme of events for an evening out in Hyderabad Sind, dated 25 September, 1913 and an old cigarette card were wrapped around a photograph of Charles
The bronze death plaque bearing Harold's name was one of millions sent to the families of soldiers killed during the Great War quickly earning it the name Dead Men's Pennies
Inside the chest, here was also a boxed medal commemorating the sinking of the RMS Lusitania, which was issued to stoke up anti-German propaganda after the ship was torpedoed.
With a bit of detective work, and the ever fading memories of my mother, herself now 82, I began to piece together the importance of the chest, the contents of which had probably not been seen for almost 100 years
Esther had been widowed when her husband, Harold, had died after a long fight with pneumonia.
With four young boys to care for, she had done the best she could, teaching them all to read music and play the piano, her own father having been a musician.
However, struggling to make ends meet, as soon as Harold was old enough, he joined the regular army and gave her money to help her buy food and clothing for his brothers.
The letter detailing Harold's inclusion in an insurance scheme
With amazing forethought for a 19-year-old man in those days, he also took out a life insurance policy, ensuring that should anything happen to him, his mother would receive a payout.
Her middle son, Leslie, had been wounded three times and sent back to the Front before being invalided out, and, Harry, a dispatch rider, had ferried important messages back and forth before suffering a shattering leg injury. Only the youngest, Norman, was left at home.
Charles was killed at Ypres, having apparently died from his wounds in a field ambulance. He had been a member of the Royal Field Artillery, and as a driver, would guide the horses hauling the heavy guns which blasted holes in the landscape.
Pictures of Harold's younger brother, Harry, as a nine-month-old baby (left) and as a 16-year-old (right) were also in the chest
An anti-German propaganda medal, to mark the sinking of the RMS Lusitania in 1915, was also among Esther's treasured items
The mud was so deep and thick, the guns often became bogged down, and waist deep in the quagmire, they would have to heave and dig them out, always keeping a look out for German snipers.
He was buried at the Menin Road South Military Cemetery in Belgium which is kept in pristine condition by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission.
My mother knew Esther well and adored her grandmother who always underlined the importance of family.
What she didn't know was how she must have gone about collecting other family photographs to put into the chest.
A whole family tree was unfolding before my eyes. Birth, marriage and death certificates of generations of people all linked to Esther.
But what made it even more unique, was the fact it also contained family photographs of her daughter-in-law's relatives too.
Harry had married Margaret Bryan, my grandmother, and inside the chest were pictures of Margaret aged around 16 outside a wallpaper shop in Birmingham.
Among an assortment of photographs in the box were pictures of Harold's maternal grandparents, however only Eliza Batty, Esther's mother, is named on the back of the snap, which is believed to date from the 1850s
A letter to Esther informing her that Harold had been awarded the 1914 Star medal for his services to the Army between the outbreak of war and midnight on 22/23 November.
A letter from Evelyn Cecil of the British Red Cross informing Esther of the 'melancholy information' of the whereabouts of Harold's grave on the Menin Road, South Military Cemetary, Ypres
There were also photos of Margaret's grandfather, Walter Halfpenny, outside his shop in Bromsgrove High Street and perhaps even more amazing was a picture of her own mother, Eliza, which must have been taken in the late 1850s when Queen Victoria had only been on the throne for around 20 years.
Carefully putting the things back into the chest as I'd found them, I lingered over Harold's diary. Opening it, I began a forensic search when I noticed something tucked inside the cover.
It was a folded piece of paper which I opened very carefully. I was amazed at what I saw. With colours as bright as if it had been drawn yesterday was a caricature of someone with short trousers and a turned up nose, walking with an umbrella from which dangled a Christmas bauble. It was dated 9 February, 1917 and signed 'from Archie'.
I will never know who Archie was, just as I can never be sure who so meticulously named the back of many of the photographs in the chest. Was it my grandmother? My great grandmother?
I do know that while real gems and jewels can trade hands for millions of pounds, no one can put a price on my family's box.
One day, as I pass this chest on to Verity, I hope that she will also realise just how valuable it, not in monetary terms, but to all of us, past and present, and a perfect demonstration of how a mother's love lasts forever.
A Christmas card was among the collection which Esther had sent to Harold after his death
Esther's careful, neat handwriting showing that although her son was now dead, he was not forgotten at Christmas
The battered tin trunk belied its contents of treasured family memories
A close up of the caricature, which was tucked inside Harold's little diary
On the back of the caricature were some scribbled notes, which look like battle co-ordinates
The only medal in the box, although a letter informing Esther that Harold had been awarded the 1914 Star was among the collection
A series of other photographs from the Victorian and Edwardian eras were also among Esther's collection
A picture of Charles Harold Reynolds's grave at the Menin Road South Military Cemetery in Ypres, Belgium, as taken by the War Graves Photographic Project
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