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[Page 52]
received several comforting letters from Miss M. Chomley, Australian Red Cross Society, London. We Australians owe our lives to Miss Chomley and her lady helpers. Everybody receives letters expressing sympathy and desire to relieve the awful situation. These few typewritten words act like magic. It is impossible to express the feeling of gratitude extended to her and her helpers.
31st. I had my second operation today. Later I was told that a rubber tube, two inches in length, was found buried in my leg; it has been embedded in my wound for three or four weeks. This, is think is sufficient proof of the careless manner in which wounds are dressed.
1st. Sept. Transferred to No. 1 Barrack. No. 3 which is along side, is occupied by British. Most of the men have lost a limb; one Tommy I know, has had both feet amputated. Despite the pain, starvation and inattention, this young fellow is always cheerful. He is a typical example of the Britisher, high spirited, staunch, brave and indomitable. He lay six days in "No mans Land" without attention or assistance. During the major portion of the time, snow fell thickly causing frostbite, which is the sole cause of his present disability. In consequence of the operation my leg is naturally painful; my nerves are completely broken; but I am still smiling. Whilst waiting for my turn on the table, I lay beside three men undergoing operations and witnessed this nerve-distracting ordeal. Before I received the anaesthetic I was strapped to a table and roughly pushed aside like a carcase of beef awaiting to be butchered. One is always roughly handled.
2nd – 9th. Many additional parcels arrived during the week, but my luck has deserted me. My wound was dressed recently. During the performance I asked the Russian Surgeon, if he would mind dressing me daily because of the profusion of puss saturating my bandages; he agreed. I suffer considerably more pain, but it is better for my wound although the rough probing and general style of dressing wounds irritates the nerves. My own privation is insignificant compared with hundreds of more unfortunate sufferers, here and elsewhere. Everyday I go for dressing I hear the cries and screams of men in agony. Always the screams are from