France, July 14th

Dear mother,

Just writing you a few lines in a hurry, as it is getting dark. I got one from auntie Lily today and she mentioned getting yours and I was just answering and yours came along, so I am making a write-up this time. I'm still as usual OK and often wonder how you all are. I'm glad you got the magazine I sent you and hope you have the pictures by now. No, I'm not wearing kilts yet, mother! Thank goodness! But wear shorts and it feels good. And you'll remember the time I used to pester you for long ones, eh! I do hope the weather improved since you wrote last, mother, and the crop comes out good. It's been awful hot today, but I just had a bath in a shell hole, and feeling pinky. I was sorry at the Mitchelsons. I'll certainly look out for the socks you mentioned when you send a box. Just mark "comforts" on it, as some of the post fellows are foxy enough for anything. But I think I get all yours, mother, so don't worry. We certainly get looked after good here. You must be very busy knitting these days, but be sure not to work too hard, mother. I would like you to have a trip, and if things are good this year, you should manage it. I'm glad to hear Marjie's growing so tall, and I guess she'll beat us all yet. What do you think? We've been very near to luck and didn't know it. Two French soldiers came back to this village. Of course it's all blown to pieces and been in German hands. They were looking all afternoon, they said, for a well, and about ten yards from our cellars they dug out, (hold your breath) 20 thousand francs and some valuables. I saw it with my own eyes. I would have thought it a find, but I was glad to see them get it. I guess it's all they have, as their home is gone. But I think it's a wonder, as there's a shell hole not ten feet. Well mother this will have to be enough for this time, so I'll have to bring this to a close. So with love to all from your

Affectionate Son,
Frank.