Three days of Christmas on the Western Front
Posted on 21 December 2018
Lawrence Rowntree in 1917.
On his third Christmas away from loved ones, Lawrence Rowntree– grandson of Joseph Rowntree, the philanthropist and founder of a chocolate-making dynasty - wrote to his mother of his longing for family festivities.
But the Christmas reunion he yearned for was not to be. Twenty two year–old Lawrence, or Laurie to family and friends, died just short of Advent on 25 November, 1917, at Passchendaele.
Archivists at the University of York’s Borthwick Institute for Archives have been piecing together Laurie’s life from a collection of more than 600 of his letters – previously not known to have existed – which were gifted to the University by the Rowntree family last year.
Laurie’s first two Christmas Days on the Western Front were spent as a medical volunteer for The Friends’ Ambulance Unit – a Quaker organisation for conscientious objectors. After wrestling with his conscience over what his contribution to the war should be, he spent his last Christmas back on the front line as a 2nd Lieutenant in the Royal Field Artillery.
Laurie’s mother Constance cherished all of her son’s letters, which were carefully arranged and tied into bundles. The letter in which Laurie explains his reasons for joining the army was left loose at the top of the pile, its worn folds bearing the signs of a letter that had been returned to many times over the years.
The first day of Christmas
“Laurie joined the Friend’s Ambulance Unit as soon as the War broke out in 1914”, explains Archivist Sally-Anne Shearn from the Borthwick Institute. “He was part of the first cohort of volunteers and after training he was sent to Dunkirk to treat the wounded in October 1914, following the collapse of the Belgian army.”
The box of letters contains a keepsake from that first Christmas – the only known surviving Christmas menu from the Friends Ambulance Unit.
Signed by all Laurie’s comrades and written in a mixture of English and French, the menu promises a Turkey “with borrowed feathers”, potatoes “grown in ankle boots” and cigarettes “all the way”.
But despite the humour, the menu also contains references to the horrors Laurie and his companions faced from their arrival in Dunkirk. The weeping turkey sketched on the front cover wears a bandage used to support the heads of dead soldiers and there are doodles of ambulances driving through the exploding bombs of Ypres.
The second day of Christmas
Laurie stayed in service with the Friends Ambulance Unit for two years, writing in December 1915 that, “Christmas day went off as well as we expected. Luckily we didn’t expect much because we didn’t get much”.
After Christmas that year, Laurie’s niggling doubts about how best he could contribute to the war effort were becoming harder to ignore. “I’ve been feeling more and more lately that I ought not to be here”, began the letter than would change Laurie and his family’s lives forever.
“Back at home Laurie’s cousin Arnold, an MP for York, was campaigning for the rights of conscientious objectors to abstain from the war, so the Rowntree family were really a microcosm of the range of views that were held by members of the Quaker community at this time,” says Sally-Anne. “It’s a religion that’s all about your personal conscience so while some Quakers refused to fight, others signed up,”
The letter in which Laurie explains his reasons for joining the army.
“We don’t know how Laurie’s mother reacted to his letter explaining his decision not to carry on as a conscientious objector, but she must have been supportive because in his next letter Laurie calls her ‘an absolute brick’ for being so understanding,” Sally-Anne adds.
Laurie signed up the following month, but he clearly carried a heavy burden of guilt for his decision and its impact on his family, writing: “I am different to what you want me to be I know. I’m frightfully sorry, because I know it is an awful disappointment to thee, & I have tried to fall in with what you would like, but the call is too strong. It doesn’t go against my conscience: I wish it did, for thy sake, & if it did I would sooner die than do it.”
Laurie with his fiancée Dorothy who he also wrote to as often as possible.
The third day of Christmas
Now a soldier, Laurie’s letters from the front line continued to be as lively and humorous as always, but his characteristically close relationship with his mother also allowed him to share some of the horrors of life in the trenches. He writes of the fatigue, the terrible smells and the discomfort of lice, trench foot and having to sleep in a gas mask.
After one turn of duty he confides that, “it has been so bad that it was really impossible to write. I have practically done without sleep and altogether done without any sort of a wash.”
For his much-loved little sister, Jean, however, Laurie kept a much more upbeat tone. Keen to help the war effort, the 11 year-old Jean had requested a cross-bow for Christmas that year so she could shoot down German zeppelins from the roof. Laurie had bought her an air rifle as a compromise.
Penning Jean a letter from the front line just after Christmas 1916, Laurie writes: “You warned me not to eat too much turkey. Unnecessary, madam, for there was no turkey to eat. But you didn’t say anything about goose, so I ate too much of that”.
A 16 year-old Laurie (centre) with his family on a ski trip to Switzerland in 1910-11.
Laurie's legacy
In the weeks following Laurie’s death, Constance received over 130 letters of condolence. Almost all pay tribute to Laurie’s fun-loving, kind and caring nature.
Constance kept this image of Laurie’s war grave in France with his letters.
The full catalogue of Laurie’s letters, which tell the story of his life in his own words from the age of six, will be available via the Borthwick Institute in the New Year.
“Laurie wrote with an extremely lively voice and his letters are full of warmth and humour”, says Sally-Anne, “this extraordinary collection really brings his personality to life”.