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Date: March 17th 1915
To
Mother
From
Will
Letter

March 17th 1915

Dear Mother,

Find enclosed that insurance policy cheque. Will you please sign it on the back and then have Percy send it to

George Tower Ferguson
23 Front Street.
Toronto.

I am in the best of health and am very busy & interested in my work. I went through the trenches the other night encouraging the boys & giving them letters from Canadian ladies. While I was there about midnight the division on the left started a terrific rapid fire and sent along and to stand to that the Ger. were attacking. Every man was hustled out of his dugout flare lights were thrown up & for a time I had the full worth of the ticket money.

An hour ago 10 a.m. batteries behind this house started firing & drew about 30 shells from the Ger. every one of which rattled the windows. They set our house on fire.

Last night an officer & his servant came into hospital. They were sitting in the cellar of a house 200 yards behind the firing line when a shrapnel shell came in at the cellar window burst beneath the table at which they sat. The servant carried away most of the shell in splinters. He has about 50 wounds all over his body. I saw him on the operating table & he was a brick. Whistled while the work was going on.

Have written to Mabel who will keep you posted. I am enjoying good health.

The officer who was slightly wounded yesterday was a few days ago out instructing his men when a few feet from him a 60 lb shell fell & went 16 feet into the ground. It failed to explode. It would likely have wiped them out had it exploded. They dug it up & have it now as a souvenir.

The narrow escapes of this war are the miracles. One can see the awful wreckage caused by shells that have hurt absolutely nobody.

Once your Colonel was sitting at a table when a bullet came thru a cupboard that covered a door & lit between his feet.

I am glad I am here where big things are being done & where big opportunities present themselves. One hates war all the more when one sees its awful work. Yesterday I buried a man whose wife writes o C. Just as I was saying "Oh death where is they thing" a bird lit in the tree overhead & sang a cheery song as though to answer us that death is not what it seems.

Much love to you all from your loving son

Will

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