Letters From the Front

Dated:

Derby, England, April 26, 1917.

No doubt by the time you receive this letter you will have had an official report on my been wounded, and I hope you haven't been worrying too much, as it is really slight and I will be none the worse of it when it is all better. I'm in an hospital in the City of Derby in England, and being well looked after.

Sunday morning, the 22nd of April, about 12 o'clock noon, was the time I got mine. Fritz had just sent over one shell, and the officers told the men to clear out, but Mr. May, the biggest officer who came over with us from Montréal, and a sergeant and myself stayed for a minute to get ready to shoot, when Fritz dropped another one quite close to us and got the sergeant and myself, also a couple of other follows quite a piece away. I felt a piece strike me on the leg, but I got up and ran, because I knew there would be another shell over in less than a minute. The boys put on a field dressing and Hugh Stewart (son of Dr. Steward of Cazaville) and another fellow helped me over to the dressing station. They bandaged me up and put me in an ambulance and was operated on at five o'clock that afternoon, miles behind the lines. I wasn't a bit sick from the ether. The doctor told me I was pretty lucky, as the bit went in the calf of my right leg and came out at the knee, but did not hurt the bone.

I have a fine bed, and a real good dinner today, the first in seven months, and my wound is getting on nicely, so I can tell you I am not grumbling at all. This will mean a good rest, and I don't think I will be back for a while.

Wilbert Purcell