Born in 1890 in Leicester, William Faulkner Taylor was the second son of William and Emilie. In 1906, the whole family apart from the eldest son, George (usually known by his middle name of Harold), emigrated to Canada. They settled in the prairie town of Senlac, Saskatchewan and established themselves as farmers. Ten years’ later in 1916, William Faulkner Taylor, now 26 years’ old, enlisted with the 46th Battalion of the Canadian Infantry (Saskatchewan Regiment) and set sail for England. By August, after a few weeks in a training camp in Hampshire, he was on his way across the Channel. I’ve already posted one of the first letters he sent “home”, to his brother, Harold, in England. However Harold was soon also to enlist – in the Royal Engineers – and William began writing instead to Dorothy, his sister-in-law.

Belgium, August 29^th

“Dear Dorothy,

Just a few lines to let you know that I am alright, we came out of the trenches last night, after an eight days [sic] stay there, we have been to the trenches twice now the first time we were only there for two days, we are out behind the lines now in a rest camp for a little while. It was fairly quiet while we were in the trenches all but one day & then it was rather interesting for a while. Fritz kept us busy dodging a few things that the boys call rum jars but I didn’t think there was much rum about them. I got a letter from Sis the other day & one from her intended & I got one from Laura since I have been over here. Tell granddad I will write to him soon & tell Harold to send me his address will you, well I think this is all now so good by

Will”

 

Sis, more properly known as Frances, and Laura, were Bill’s sisters, back home in Canada. This is the only letter, at least that I have, in which Bill signs himself “Will”. Maybe I’m being fanciful but it’s tempting to imagine the young man who had so recently exchanged the green prairies of Canada for the devastated, shell-swept farmland of northern Europe trying out a new nickname to fit his new reality.

France, Sep 25/16

“Dear Dorothy,

                        I received your welcome letter last week, just about half an hour after I posted that last letter to you. Well we are in a different part of the country now, we were on the march the last three days of last week & we are away from the trenches now, we are billeted in a little village, this is a fine country & all the people around here are fine, different altogether to where we were before. You were pretty lucky to be able to go & stay close to Harold it would be quite a holiday. Well Dorothy I want you to do something for me if you will please, I am enclosing a ten shilling note & I would like you to get me two dozen Gillett safety razor blades & send them to me as soon as you can, we never get into a big enough place to be able to get them over here. I think this is all now so good bye

                                                                                                                        Bill

PS You asked me what kind of tobacco I smoke so that you could send me some, thanks very much but I get all the smokes that I can use mother sent me some & we get issued every week with tobacco [sic] & cigarettes, but I wouldn’t mind if you would send me a cake or something like that.”

France,

Dec 6 / 16

“Dear Dorothy,

This is the first time I have had a chance to write to thank you for the pipe  & watch. I got them about ten days ago. When we got them we were living up to our knees in mud, but we are alright now, we have been on the march for eight days & we are billeted now in a small town quite a way from the trenches & believe me it’s great to be back in something like civilisation again. We were just seven weeks on the Somme & I don’t want to go there again.

Well Dorothy, that pipe you sent me is a dandy, I couldn’t have got one to suit me better if I had picked it myself & the watch is doing fine, so I am very much obliged to you. I am going around town tonight to see if I can’t get you an Xmas present.

We were all going to get leave, we heard, about a week ago. One man out of our section did go, & now we hear today that it is cancelled, so I am afraid I won’t be able to see those three girls, that’s tough luck, eh what.

Tell Harold when you write to him that he hasn’t reached the limit yet by a long way, sleeping in a wagon under a tarpaulin is quite comfortable to what he will get when he gets over here.

I don’t know what’s happened to the mail. I haven’t heard from home for three weeks, but I might get some letters any time now that we are settled for a few days.

My chum got badly wounded the last afternoon we were in the trenches, he was only about two yards from me when a bullet hit him, went in his shoulder & out through his back. It broke his collar bone & his lungs were touched. I haven’t heard anything about him yet whether he lived or not. He was a Sheffield boy.

Well I think this is all this time so I will close with love

Bill

PS A merry Xmas & a happy new year.

I have just been around town trying to find something to send to you & I couldn’t find anything just to suit me. I wanted to get a silk apron but they were all sold out so I decided to buy you enough silk goods to make a blouse. I hope you will like it, I had some time around town in the shops. I went into quite a few before I got suited. You ought to have seen some of the things those girls fetched out for me to look at. At last I found a place where the girl could sling a little English& there was a fellow with me that could sling a little French so we got on fine & this silk is what she persuaded me to buy.

I have just had a letter from Harold & one from mother. All the folks at home are quite well. Mother says she hasn’t heard from you for a long time. Well this is all now. Good by dear.

Bill” 

France Dec 11/16

“Dear Dorothy,

Got your letter yesterday, & posted one to you the day before, as usual. Some lecture you gave me, but don’t worry dear I’ll be good. Say I hope you are right about someone waiting for me & I hope she is just like you.

Bill”

The short note above was written inside a hand-stitched Christmas card. I can’t imagine where he got it from or how he kept it safe. And I wish I knew the history behind these three sentences.