I am Corporal Arthur William Moxham, Service No. 40580 of the 2nd Battalion, Lancashire Fusiliers. I am the son of the late Charles Edward Moxham and Henrietta nee Stevens who were married in 1876. I was born the following year, here in Wycombe. My parents, myself and my sister Ella lived at Castle Place when I was small, but we had moved to Easton Street by the 1890s and then to the house called 'Devonia' in Priory Avenue. After the death of my father my sister Ella and her two children, along with my mother, all lived in the same house in Priory Avenue. My father had been an architect, surveyor and brickmaker and I followed in his footsteps, also becoming an architect and brickmaker. I was a member of the Comrades' Lodge of Freemasons, and was a frequent visitor to the Eton Lodge, which was largely composed of Wycombe members. However, I thought I'd find a more exciting career ahead of me if I joined the military and this is exactly what i did.
So by the time the Great War started I had already been serving King and Country as I had been a member of the Bucks Imperial Yeomanry for some time. I had served through the South African War, under Colonel W. A. W. Lawson. You'll probably know this better as the Boer War, during which time I rose to the rank of Sergeant Major in the Royal Bucks Hussars.
Immediately after war was declared in August 1914, I joined King Edward's Horse, and trained principally at Taplow and Hounslow. In February 1915, I went with my Regiment to France, where I saw much active service. Eventually the men in King Edward's Horse were trained for the tanks, preparatory to going to Egypt, but later on we were drafted to various infantry Regiments. I was attached to the Lancashire Fusiliers, with which Regiment I was serving when I was killed in action.
I had been last home on leave about six weeks before, and had no idea that this would be my last visit. After my return to the Front, I was recommended for a commission, and was about to take it up when I was killed instanteously on Tuesday, 9th October, 1917. For some days after, great anxiety was felt by my relatives as to my safety, by reason of a registered letter being returned to my mother. Not knowng whether I was alive or dead my sister, the wife of Lieutenant Maurice James, A.S.C., visited the War Office, and ascertained that I had been killed in action on Oct. 9th. I was 40 years of age.
I had always tried to stay cheerful and my letters home - my mother was now living in Castle Street - were written in the same cheerful style, the last being written on the 3rd Oct. My obituary in the local Wycombe paper said some nice things about me - that comrades who served with me had said that I was a fearless soldier, one who never saw any danger, and that I was kind-hearted, and by my acts of generosity I had made many friends, all of whom deplored my death.
I am remembered at the Tyne-Cot Memorial, West Vlaanderen, Belgium, on the Wycombe Hospital war memorial and here in Wycombe Cemetery.
Researched by Margaret Anderton, Flackwell Local Area History Group and Sally Scagell, Lost the Plot.
