On visiting the cot cases, I came across two Indian soldiers, one of whom, a man of low caste, who had served as a transport driver, appeared to be very cheery, and to all outward appearance in good health. I spoke to him in his own language, and asked why he was in bed. In reply, he turned aside the bed covers, disclosing the stumps of both legs amputated high above the knee. I was much taken aback, and could only ejaculate, "You have done well by the Sirkar," a remark which met with the response, "Oh, that is of no consequence, I would have done better if I could." The other, a high caste man of the Zemindar class, seemed to be ill at heart rather than of body. I tried to cheer him by speaking of his early return to India, and of the sunshine of his own country, but nothing I could say gave him any comfort. I found it difficult to account for the extraordinary contrast in the mentality of the two men, and can only surmise that the indignities put upon the Zemindar, when a prisoner of war in Turkey, had lowered his morale to such a degree that, from the caste point of view, he had already ceased to exist. He had, in his own eyes, lost standing, and, consequently, all that made life worth living. The transport driver, on the other hand, had been inured from birth to a want of consideration, and was quite regardless of any ill treatment or indignity at the hands of the foreigner and enemy. He had, therefore, retained his morale, and gloried in the fact that he had done his duty by the "Sirkar," and would become the object of its solicitude in the future.