The Moth and the Mountain

by Ed Caesar

  The archivists at the National Archives in Kew helped me discover not only the details of Maurice Wilson’s service and fight for an army pension, but the previously untold story of Victor Wilson’s heroics at Bullecourt, Victor’s postwar trauma, and the fate of the Wilsons’ neighbors on Cecil Avenue. I am also grateful to the history department at the Bradford Grammar School, who researched the lives of many Old Bradfordians who fought in the First World War, many of whom were known to the Wilsons. The West Yorkshire Archive Service in Bradford was another rich resource, and its helpful staff directed me to the archives of Wilson’s secondary school, as well as to more general information about Bradford before, during, and after the First World War. Glyn Hughes at the Alpine Club showed me Wilson’s diary and provided fascinating supplementary information. The India Office archive at the British Library was another rich seam of material about Wilson’s flights, and his fights with the civil service.

  Understanding Wilson’s itinerant postwar years was a challenge: this project’s slippery North Col. In New Zealand, I am grateful to Jane Tolerton and Redmer Yska for explaining the country’s archive system, and for introducing me to resources and people who helped me enormously. Gábor Tóth, a historian for Wellington City Libraries, unearthed swathes of new information about Mary Garden, and a wedding picture of her and Wilson. Wellington is lucky to have such a rigorous steward of its history. Fiona Kidman, author of The Infinite Air, was also kind enough to share with me some pages from Jean Batten’s unpublished memoir, Luck and the Record Breaker, which helped me understand her time at Stag Lane airfield. Thank you to Matthew Sweet and Rob Baker, with whom I discussed the nightclubs of Wilson’s London. The de Havilland Moth Club were kind enough to invite me to an air show, and I am particularly grateful to Stuart McKay, Dennis Baldry, and David Cyster, who all shared with me their experiences of flying Moths.

  In 2018, David Morgan, DSC, took me for a flight in his Tiger Moth on a beautiful summer’s day in Dorset. Morgan was the most accomplished fighter pilot of the Falklands War, and it was an honor to be flown by him, and to receive his patient instructions when I had the controls. I will never forget the terror of the barrel roll and the loop the loop David executed. I’m also enormously grateful to four wonders—Chris Craig, CB, DSC, Daphne Craig, Peter Lambert, and my mother, Janie Caesar—for organizing the opportunity.

  I don’t know how to thank Peter Meier-Hüsing, author of Wo Die Schneelöwen Tanzen (Where the Snow Leopards Dance), which was published in 2003 in Germany. When he was researching Wilson, he corresponded with Dennis Roberts, the author of I’ll Climb Mount Everest Alone, to ask about any original materials Roberts might have retained. Roberts eventually sold Wilson’s letters to Meier-Hüsing. When I contacted Meier-Hüsing, more than a decade after that deal had been struck, he was happy to hand over this precious resource for free. He didn’t mention that he’d paid Roberts for the letters until much later. Meier-Hüsing was simply happy somebody else was going to write the Wilson story. Peter and I had a most convivial lunch in Bremen together, and I will never forget his kindness.

  Thank you, too, to Derrick Carter, Maurice Wilson’s great-nephew, who answered my call, and allowed me to reproduce treasured family photographs. It was thrilling to meet you and to read your trove of Wilson’s documents.

  The best thing about being a writer is the other writers. A few of my friends read my work before it goes near an editor. I remain in the debt of Lauren Collins and Tom Williams, two dear friends who have both performed first-reader duties for many years with great insight and a gentle bedside manner. A recent addition to the stable, Mark O’Connell, read several drafts of this book and was kind enough to offer his serious, funny, and sensitive judgments. Parker Henry checked the book for mistakes; the errors that remain are my responsibility alone. I am proud to be a visiting teaching fellow at the Manchester Writing School, and I am grateful for the support of Adam O’Riordan and his colleagues. Many other writers have been kind enough to encourage me, console me, feed me, house me, and champion me. I am sure to forget someone important, but thank you to Patrick Radden Keefe, Colum McCann, Dexter Filkins, Kathryn Aalto, James Jones, Sam Knight, Andrew O’Hagan, Elizabeth Day, Ben Taub, Alex Bilmes, Jonathan Heaf, and James Rebanks—heroes all.

  Thank you to everybody at The New Yorker. The magazine brims with talent, and I am so proud to have joined the team. Thank you to David Remnick, to Pam McCarthy, to Dorothy Wickenden, and to Daniel Zalewski—my brilliant and guileful editor, who makes every story better. Thank you, too, to the joyful gang at Esquire (UK), who make a beautiful magazine, throw wonderful parties, and treat me like family.

  My agents—Karolina Sutton at Curtis Brown in London, and Sloan Harris at ICM Partners in New York—have been staunch champions of this project and of my work in general. When I experienced occasional gloomy moments in the writing of this book, both Karolina and Sloan ushered me toward the light. I couldn’t have asked any more of them. My excellent film agent, Luke Speed, has lived up to his name. Tom Killingbeck, my British editor, inherited this book recently, when he took a new job at Viking, but has embraced it with gusto. I thank Tom and his predecessors, Jack Ramm and Joel Rickett, for their enthusiasm.

  In New York, thank you so much to Jofie Ferrari-Adler, my editor on The Moth and the Mountain. You’ve waited too long. In all our discussions about Maurice Wilson, and the best way to frame his story, you’ve never lost sight of the potential of this book. I am thrilled with where we’ve landed, and I couldn’t be prouder to be published by Avid Reader Press. Julianna Haubner and Carolyn Kelly at Avid Reader have also helped me so much, in countless small and large ways.

  To my friends in Manchester and beyond: thank you for making me laugh, and for keeping me sane. To Judith and Rob: thank you so much for your generosity and kindness. To Mum, Peter, Ben, Dave, and to all my family: I love you. To my darlings, Rory and Annabel, whom I adore: this book would have been written a lot quicker without you, but life would have been much less fun. Chloë: I run out of words.

  Manchester, February 2020

  NOTES ON SOURCES

  In researching the story of Maurice Wilson, I have strived at every turn for accuracy. My principal primary sources have been Wilson’s diary, found among his effects on Everest, which are now kept by the Alpine Club in London; his letters, which were given to me by Peter Meier-Hüsing, a German author who wrote about Wilson; and the many newspaper articles and official records housed in the British Library, the National Archives, and online that touch on Wilson’s early life, wartime service, and his subsequent adventures. Hundreds of other clues and facts have turned up in records housed as far apart as Wellington, New Zealand, and Vancouver, Canada. If I have made factual mistakes, they are my own.

  Dennis Roberts’s 1957 book about Wilson, I’ll Climb Mount Everest Alone, has loomed over my enterprise—if only because the subsequent narrative around Wilson has followed its story. I should explain my complicated relationship to Roberts’s book. Among other research, Roberts interviewed Wilson’s friends, the Evanses, many times: a valuable service. Roberts also read and copied Wilson’s letters to Enid and other correspondents, which I now have. However, the text of Wilson’s letters never appears in Roberts’s account. (Roberts often describes Wilson writing in his “diary” when in fact the information in question was related to Enid or another correspondent via letter.) Also, the relationship between Enid Evans and Wilson is only hinted at in Roberts’s account. A deal was evidently struck between Roberts and the Evanses. Information from the letters could be used discreetly, without drawing attention to Wilson’s improper relationship with Enid, and no mention of the letters was to be made. I have seen the full text of the letters because Roberts sold them to Meier-Hüsing before he died, and Meier-Hüsing passed them to me. They are remarkable documents, which show Wilson in all his complexity.

  Roberts never interviewed Wilson’s surviving brother, Fred, who was apparently shocked when I’ll Climb Mount Ever
est Alone was published. Instead, Roberts relied on the memory of two close but relatively recent friends—the Evanses—to tell Wilson’s story. This approach created problems. Wilson could be a tricky narrator, particularly about his love life, and he told the Evanses many half-truths and lies. As a result, I’ll Climb Mount Everest Alone has significant errors—including the details of his wartime heroics; where, when, how, and with whom Wilson traveled between the wars; the nature of his spiritual conversion; and the fate of other members of Wilson’s family.

  The lacunae in I’ll Climb Mount Everest Alone are interesting. Victor Wilson’s post-traumatic stress is never mentioned, and neither is the tragic, early death of Stanley Wilson. It appears that Roberts did not know anything about the Wilson family except what the Evanses told him, or what appeared in the newspapers.

  It’s worth giving Roberts his due. He wrote his book half a century before documents such as ship’s manifests and border passages began to be digitized, collected, and made available to researchers; such resources would have allowed him to check his story. Moreover, he got many things right. I’ll Climb Mount Everest Alone has been an important source for this book, particularly concerning the period leading up to and including Wilson’s flight to India. The Evanses knew plenty about this time in Wilson’s life. Roberts’s coyness around Wilson’s ménage à trois with the Evanses cannot conceal the many interesting details the author describes about their life together. At many moments in my own book, with primary material scarce or nonexistent, I rely on Roberts. I am also extremely grateful for his careful hoarding of Wilson’s letters.

  Meanwhile, many other books and documents have colored my research for The Moth and the Mountain. Ruth Hanson’s Maurice Wilson: A Yorkshireman on Everest broadly follows the Roberts narrative, but also checks and queries some of Roberts’s assumptions with archival research. The other titles listed in the bibliography will necessarily be an incomplete list, but they offer ideas for further reading.

  More from the Author

  Two Hours

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Ed Caesar is a contributing writer to The New Yorker and the author of Two Hours. The winner of numerous journalism awards, he lives in England with his family.

  @edcaesar

  edcaesar.co.uk

  AvidReaderPress.com

  SimonandSchuster.com

  www.SimonandSchuster.com/Authors/Ed-Caesar

  @avidreaderpress @avidreaderpress @avidreaderpress

  ALSO BY ED CAESAR

  Two Hours

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  NOTES

  PROLOGUE: THE WORLD WILL BE ON FIRE

  Before he began his trek: Most of the information from the prologue is gleaned from Wilson’s diaries, held by the Alpine Club in London. Other information comes from his letters home.

  the first in 1921: The first expedition to Everest in 1921 was a reconnaissance mission, so the aim was not to reach the summit.

  A priest with a gun: Whether Wilson brought the gun from England or bought it in India is unknown. Probably the latter. It seems most unlikely that he would have flown to India with a weapon, but also not entirely beyond the realm of possibility. Wilson was convinced that one of his biggest dangers in crossing into Tibet was being attacked by brigands. In fact, he encountered no problems of that kind. He would have been better off packing an extra pair of gloves.

  one of the local descriptions for Everest: In the literature of the period, Chomolungma and Chamalung are both used as the indigenous names for Everest. Plenty of other variations were also used by white explorers. An Alpine Journal article from 1935 attempts to unpick the nomenclature debate: https://www.alpinejournal.org.uk/Contents/Contents_1935_files/AJ47%201935%20127-129%20Odell%20Names%20for%20Everest.pdf.

  a passport stamped with a message: The full text of the laissez-passer read: Be it known to the Dzongpens and headmen of Phari, Kampa, Teng-kye, Shekar and Kharta districts.

  In accordance with the request contained in a recent written communication received from F. Williamson, Esq., I.C.S., the excellent Political Officer in Sikkim, we have, in view of the excellent friendly relations existing between the British and Tibetan Governments, permitted

  Mr. H. Ruttledge,

  Mr. F. S. Smythe,

  Major Hugh Boustead,

  Captain E. St. J. Birnie,

  Mr. C. G. Crawford,

  Mr. P. Wyn Harris,

  Mr. J. L. Longland,

  Mr. T. A. Brocklebank,

  Mr. E. O. Shebbeare,

  Mr. E. E. Shipton,

  Dr. C. R. Greene,

  Dr. W. McLean,

  Mr. G. Wood-Johnson, and

  Mr. L. R. Wager

  A total of 14 British Officers, with about 90 servants, to ascend the snowy mountain of Chamalung, which is in Tibetan territory, in the first month of the Water-Bird year. The expedition requires about 300 baggage animals. Please supply these immediately without let or hindrance, taking hire without sustaining any loss. You should also render them such help as is possible in the country.

  On their part, the Sahibs and their servants must not roam about in regions not indicated in the passport at their will. They must not shoot birds or other wild animals at the various sacred places, an act which has the effect of offending Tibetan susceptibilities. They must not beat the people or subject them to any trouble.

  little red bag Lama: Wilson often spells lama as llama, which is amusing, and which has been corrected in this text for clarity. He is referring to Buddhist monks, not South American ruminants.

  CHAPTER 1: DO I UNDERSTAND THIS MADMAN?

  Messner writes to Wilson: The Crystal Horizon, by Reinhold Messner, published in English by Crowood Press, 1989. (First published in Germany in 1982.)

  If Wilson had managed: Ibid.

  “He was alone”: In 2015, I interviewed Messner at a castle he owned, near Bolzano-Bozen, in the South Tyrol, on assignment for GQ magazine (UK). This quotation is taken from that interview.

  a writer of incalculable kindness: Peter Meier-Hüsing is the writer of incalculable kindness.

  “No… We live, as we dream—alone”: Coincidentally, Herbert Read, the great poet and critic, who fought in the Spring Offensive of 1918 near Maurice Wilson, used this excerpt from Heart of Darkness as the epigraph to In Retreat (1925), his unflinching account of that period.

  CHAPTER 2: OWING TO HIS PLUCK

  On the night of April 24, 1918: The information contained in the account of the First Fifth’s stand on the outskirts of Wytschaete is taken principally from John Sheehan’s book about the battalion, The Harrogate Terriers; the archives of the York Army Museum; the First Fifth’s unit diary, which is kept by the National Archives; and Captain Tempest’s remarkable contemporaneous account of the First Sixth’s wartime experiences. The First Sixth, from Bradford, often fought shoulder to shoulder with the First Fifth, and Tempest’s record is invaluable. In I’ll Climb Mount Everest Alone, Dennis Roberts writes that Wilson made the stand for which he won his Military Cross at Meteren, alongside an Australian battalion. Roberts also writes that when Wilson was injured three months later, it was also at Meteren. But a review of 1/5 West Yorkshire Regiment’s unit diary—as well as Wilson’s service history and medical records—shows that Wilson and his battalion were engaged at Wytschaete, not Meteren. The location of Wilson’s injury is also wrong. He was shot near Ypres, while on patrol in July 1918, not at Meteren.

  In Roberts’s defense, it’s possible he never saw Wilson’s military records and extrapolated his service history fro
m a confusing entry in Wilson’s diary from April 10, 1934, which read, “16 years since I went into the line in France for stunt.” If going “into the line” meant “fighting,” then the action at Meteren would have fit neatly with the chronology suggested by Wilson’s diary entry. But going “into the line” might simply mean the moment when Wilson was sent to the front. The date in question could have been days or weeks before his heroic action. Or, Wilson might have made a casual entry in his diary, to remember the season rather than the specific anniversary of his stand.

  In any case, Wilson’s battalion was nowhere near Meteren when it was attacked by the Germans in 1918. There is also no question of Wilson having been seconded to another battalion. The unit diary of the 1/5 West Yorkshires mentions him several times during the period in question, including in a note concerning surviving officers, written a few days after the action at Wytschaete.

  It should be noted that Wilson’s bravery on April 25, 1918, is not mentioned in the commanding officer’s description of that day. The omission is not alarming: the action was a bloody and confusing nightmare, with communications cut between command and the front line. The officer who wrote the diary did his best to detail the basic facts of what happened to the battalion, but he could not record each individual act of bravery. “There is practically no information regarding the fighting in the front line, as the enemy appear to have broken through well outside the flanks of the Battn., and worked round to the rear of the front line companies,” the diary reads. “Apparently there must have been a strong resistance.”

  The stories from the front line would take longer to trickle back. There is little doubt, however, that Wilson made his stand at Wytschaete on April 25, 1918. Wilson was awarded his Military Cross on the same day as other officers and men who were decorated for gallantry at Wytschaete. There is also the simple fact that his bravery citation could only possibly describe Wytschaete, the First Fifth’s most important action of the Spring Offensive. Sheehan, the author of the battalion’s history, names Wilson as one of the heroes of the day.