On the 27th there was a specially large number of wounded. The farmyard in front of the first aid station was filled with the suffering from one end to the other. While a surgeon is taking care of one, some one behind pulls him by his trousers. On looking back, he finds a man leaning against him and like an innocent baby falling into the sleep that knows no awakening. “Mine is a life that cannot be saved, please kill me at once.” So shouts a man in agony, clutching a surgeon with both hands. One sergeant crept on his hands, dragging his legs to the side of a surgeon. “Please, surgeon, the man over there is one of my company; he breathes so hard that it may be of no use, but please see him once more.” This entreaty was accompanied by tears of sympathy. This kind sergeant was seriously injured, but his love of his subordinate made him brave and gallant. There were many also who themselves were on the brink of the grave, and yet who insisted on their comrades being first attended to, saying that they could well afford to wait. What noble self-denial! The brave men, though panting and gasping, with livid faces and blood-covered bodies, kept the true spirit of Bushido, which could not be soiled with the dust of battle, nor did they lose it with their heart’s blood. On the morning of the 27th a private came to the first aid station with a distracted, hollow countenance. A surgeon who noticed him asked, “What is the matter with you? Wounded?” No answer came from him, his lips moved in vain. The surgeon asked again, “What is it? I cannot know if you do not tell.” Still no answer was forthcoming. The surgeon thought it very strange, and while gazing at the man’s face he noticed a little blood on it. On closer examination it was found that this man had been shot through the temple from right to left, so that he had lost both sight and hearing. No sooner did the surgeon discover this than he began to attend to his case. But when he tenderly took the poor man’s hand, the soldier grated his teeth and muttered “Revenge.” His body stiffened very rapidly and he soon breathed his last. Poor brave fellow, he did not know he was dying, but was only anxious to fight again. Here is another case. A wounded private came rushing into the station, swinging both arms as if in great haste. “It is a hot fight, extremely interesting! We shall occupy the place very soon.” The surgeon asked him, “Are you wounded?” “A little at the waist,” was the answer. As the surgeon was very anxious about the issue of the day, he asked the man: “Have you killed many of the enemy? Which side has more casualties?” The man lowered his voice and said, “Once again, there are more casualties on Japan’s side.”