Ambulance 185 men and officers landed, and when I relinquished command, 43 remained.  At one time we were losing so many bearers, that carrying during the day-time was abandoned, and orders were given that it should only be undertaken after night-fall.  On one occasion a man was being sent off to the hospital ship from our tent in the gully.  He was not very bad, but he felt like being carried down.  As the party went along the beach, Beachy Bill became active; one of the bearers lost his leg, the other was wounded, but the man who was being carried down got up and ran!  All the remarks I have made regarding the intrepidity and valour of the stretcher-bearers apply also to the regimental bearers.  These are made up from the bandsmen.  Very few people think, when they see the band leading the battalion in parade through the streets, what happens to them on active service.  Here bands are not thought of; the instruments are left at the base, and the men become bearers, and carry the wounded out of the front line for the Ambulance men to care for.  Many a stretcher-bearer has deserved the V.C.

One of ours told me they had reached a man severely wounded in the leg, in close proximity to his dug-out.  After he had been placed on the stretcher and made comfortable, he was asked whether there was anything he would like to take with him.  He pondered a bit, and then said:  “Oh! you might give me my diary—­I would like to make a note of this before I forget it!”

It can be readily understood that in dealing with large bodies of men, such as ours, a considerable degree of organization is necessary, in order to keep an account, not only of the man, but of the nature of his injury (or illness, as the case may be) and of his destination.  Without method chaos would soon reign.  As each casualty came in he was examined, and dressed or operated upon as the necessity arose.  Sergeant Baxter then got orders from the officer as to where the case was to be sent.  A ticket was made out, containing the man’s name, his regimental number, the nature of his complaint, whether morphia had been administered and the quantity, and finally his destination.  All this was also recorded in our books, and returns made weekly, both to headquarters and to the base.  Cases likely to recover in a fortnight’s time were sent by fleet-sweeper to Mudros; the others were embarked on the hospital ship.  They were placed in barges, and towed out by a pinnace to a trawler, and by that to the hospital ship, where the cases were sorted out.  When once they had left the beach, our knowledge of them ceased, and of course our responsibility.  One man arriving at the hospital ship was describing, with the usual picturesque invective, how the bullet had got into his shoulder.  One of the officers, who apparently was unacquainted with the Australian vocabulary, said:  “What was that you said, my man?” The reply came, “A blightah ovah theah put a bullet in heah.”