Besides these were Drs.
Devine, Ruell, Estell, Baruch, Frost, Carmichael, Welford, and
Griffith, none of whom I know particularly well.
Meantime, the wounded of several battles had filled and crowded the
wards. As before, every train came in freighted with human misery. In
the Buckner Hospital alone there were nearly a thousand beds, tenanted
by every conceivable form of suffering.
An ambulance-train arrived one night, bringing an unusually large
number of sick and wounded men, whose piteous moans filled the air as
they were brought up the hill on "stretchers" or alighted at the door
of the hospital from ambulances, which, jolting over the rough,
country road, had tortured them inexpressibly.
Occasionally a scream of agony would arise, but more frequently
suppressed groans bespoke strong men's suffering manfully borne. In
the ward where those badly wounded were placed, there was so much to
be done, that morning found the work unfinished.
It was, therefore, later than usual when I found time to pay my usual
morning visits to other wards.
Upon entering Ward No. 4, my attention was attracted by a new patient,
who lay propped up on one of the bunks near a window.
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