Just a few lines from your soldier boy. This is Sunday evening and have had lots of people in to see me. I had a lady and a little girl about Edith's size and I showed her Edith's photo and she said to give her address and she would write to her. I have so many people coming to see me that I can scarcely remember one from another. The ladies here are certainly good to the Canadians when they are wounded. I had a lady bring me some cream and a bottle of honey and some candy. Another brought me cakes, apples, chocolates and flowers, and as soon as I am well I am to go to so many places in the auto that I hardly know what to think. It is certainly kind of the ladies to treat me so good, I do not think anyone could be kinder. My, will it not bring happiness when this war is over, and we all meet again at our homes and see those who are near and dear to us. I am sending Edith a post-card which the little girl gave me (who is going to write to Edith). Ask her to keep it for me. Also a post-card which I found in a Belgian ruined house and two little cards which I found in a ruined law office in Belgium, one is written in French, the other in Belgian. Get some one to read them for you. The one is a death card, the other a prayer. When I found the cards, I was in the office for shelter from a bombardment. When I can get a box to put my pieces of shrapnel in, I will send you a piece that I found when hit and a piece that was in my hip, so you know what shrapnel looks like, and have a souvenir of the great war. I did not bother to risking myself to get a helmet for a souvenir, and I do not think you would care for a German helmet anyway.

I am getting on fine. My wounds are doing nicely. I can move my toes now and can lie on my side with pillows under me. I do not think I will be much longer in bed before I will be allowed to sit up some. My, I do feel strong. Losing a little blood for my country has not weakened me, it has made me feel more determined to fight for King and Country and as soon as I am well enough I will be at it again, fighting for right.
Now I will close. I hope to hear from you before long. Give my love to all and please excuse bad writing as I am writing lying in bed.
Your loving nephew,
WILFRED

Address: Pte. Wilfred Throop, No. 59, 983, 21st Canadians, Alexander Ward,
East Edmonton Military Hospital. London, England.