Early in the morning of July 28th, Lieutenant Joseph J. Kilcourse, Medical Officer attached to the Third Battalion, had opened his aid post in the schoolhouse facing on the square, and the development of the battle soon made it the regimental dressing station. The schoolhouse quickly filled up with wounded. A constant stream of limping men, of men with bandages around their heads or with arms carried in rough slings, of men borne on rude litters, were coming into town along the narrow entrance. No ambulances had gotten through and there were no directions as to where a _triage_ could be found. The courtyard in front of the hospital was filled with “walking cases,” discussing the battle with that cheerfulness which is always characteristic of soldiers who are not fatally wounded. A menacing whiz came through the air and a shell fell amongst them, followed by two others, one of which struck the wall and spattered the litter cases with plaster and broken bricks. The survivors in the yard scattered in all directions but nine of them lay quivering or motionless. Lieutenant Kilcourse ran out sobbing and swearing and working like mad to save his patients from further harm. Those who could walk were started down the road towards the Château de Foret in the hope of being picked up by an ambulance or truck. Inside the hospital nobody was seriously hurt, but the men of the Sanitary Detachment labored energetically to get them into places of comparative safety. These were Sergeant 1st Class William Helgers, James Mason, James McCormack, Ferraro, Planeta, Larsen and Daly. Before long, Lieutenants Lyttle, Martin, Mitchell and Lawrence had arrived, and the wounded received all the attention they could be given with the facilities at hand. But the worst cases lay there till the next morning before they could be evacuated. They bore their sufferings with cheerful fortitude, their thoughts being for others. Father Hanley was sore because he had been put out so soon. Sergeant John Donahue’s thoughts were with his beloved Company L; Tommy Delaney, an innocent lovable boy, talked of his mother and what a good son to her he had planned to be if he had lived, and Tom Mansfield, with his leg shattered, was full of Irish pride that he had been given a chance to be in a big battle with the “Ould Rigiment.”