From the Front Louise Ward Military Hospital, Lewisham, London, S. E., Nov. 16, 1916. My Dear Mrs. Sawle: You will no doubt wonder at the address on this letter. I was wounded on Oct. 8, which accounts for the delay in writing to you again. I will try now, Mrs. Sawle, and give you a few particulars that I was unable to write from France. I had a letter from Vera Trotfer, in which she mentioned you would like all the particulars I was able to give you, so I will endeavor to tell you all about it: When we first went from the base in France we went to Ypres in Belgium. After a week or so there we started for the Somme front. We had been there possibly two weeks when we were ordered into Moquet Farm, about the worst spot on the Somme front at that time. We had been in the front line trenches three days, undergoing a heavy bombardment all the time. During the five days we were there they did not give us a moment's rest. On the afternoon of the third day one of the German shells of the Horwitz variety (known as a coal box), made a direct hit on our trench, blowing it all to pieces. It was this that got Ken. It killed eight men and 2 was wounded, too, Ken and a man named Avlett from Victoria, B. C. As I said before, we did all that could possibly be done for the two wounded men. We dressed them at once, and in spite of the artillery and rifle fire managed to take them over the top and back to a dressing station and safety over the open ground. All our trenches leading to the rear were blown up. I will tell you about Ken's wounds: A shrapnel bullet entered his face about two inches below his eye and came out again at the back of his head; his other wound on the leg was bad but not at all serious, being a deep flesh wound. I do not think that it would be possible for Ken in the condition he was in to send any message, as he was conscious only part of the time. The only words he spoke were: "Be good to me boys, I am awfully sick." Later, when he revived a bit he knew me; asked where he was, and then said: "Thanks, Wattie, for getting me out." I had to leave then and go back to my duty in the line. When we came out of the line I found he had died in the hospital at Contay on Sept. 9, three days after he was wounded. Ken was not marked very much, not being cut up like some men are. No doubt the shock and force of the explosion had a great deal to do with his death. I was only a few yards away and was thrown heavily to the ground. Ken has a lovely grave in a beautiful little cemetery at Contay with a large wooden cross, with his name and battalion on it. If Ken had to go it is much nicer that he should have gone in that way and received a decent burial, by the way, with a Church of England clergyman. On the Somme front the best we could do for the boys who gave up their lives was to bury them just where they fell; but we always made it a point to bury all our dead before we left. When you consider we have pretty much to do to dress our wounded, bury our dead, beat off counter attacks and make attacks while in the front line, as well as keep our trenches cleaned out where shells blow them up, all without help of any kind, you will possibly understand what we are up against. The time Ken was wounded we had over 500 casualties. I mentioned in my last letter that Ken did some good work: he did very good work considering the short time he had in which to prove himself, proving himself a soldier and a man among men very soon. The first day we were in the Moquet Farm, along about dusk, Ken said he thought he saw men coming from the right flank. About a minute after Ken's voice rang out, "There they come." He was the only one who had seen them. We let them come on until they were about 100 to 150 yards away. We were ready with machine guns and rifle grenades. None of them reached our trenches, and furthermore, none of them got back to their own, but for Ken's timely warning they would have done us serious damage. The next day he succeeded in locating a German battery in a clump of trees on our left. It was more than pouring shells at us, but was very well hidden. This information was conveyed to our artillery, and soon that battery was no more. I tell you this just to show you that Ken was a cool man and "On the job all the time." It is always a man's pals in the trenches who really knows him and what he is worth. I cannot say anything more, my dear friend, except to renew my expressions of sympathy to you in the loss of such a noble son. , With kind regards to all the family, believe me, your sincere friend, WATTIE.