We again received wounded; amongst them was the commander of a division. His foot was badly injured with shrapnel. After the doctors had done what they could for him, he asked to see me, in order to express gratitude for the help of our hospital. Tears were in his eyes, and when he brushed them away, he hastened to explain that his tears had come, not from fear of death, but because he could not go back to his regiment. We drove him and all the other wounded, in the motor ambulances to Palanka station, and they left by train for hospitals farther south. During that evening, and throughout the night, we were kept busy; 102 badly wounded men arrived in batches from the battle-field close at hand. We could see the German captive balloons hovering in the air near us. It was not surprising that some of the soldiers were already dead when they were taken out of the rough, springless wagons. The jolting over bad roads, in the cold and rain, whilst huddled together, half a dozen badly wounded men in one small cart, was bound to be disastrous. Moreover, some of the wagons had high sides, and no opening even at the ends, and the patients, perhaps with broken legs or smashed heads, must be hauled up and over the high sides in the dark, in any fashion that came first. We buried our dead near the roadside, without coffins, in their torn and bloodstained uniforms. When possible we placed a candle in their hands, and we made plain wooden crosses and wrote upon these the name, the regiment and place of death. The Serbian soldier likes to be buried near the main road, because then he thinks he will not be forgotten by passers by. But surely the Serbian soldier will never be forgotten; the sacrifices he has made in the cause of freedom have made his name immortal. We continued to evacuate the wounded till 11 p.m. Then the chauffeurs rested till 5 a.m., when they began again. Headquarters lent us a large Diesel French car, which held 10 patients, and this was a great help, as the Fords, on the bad roads, could only safely take four patients at a time. We were glad to receive that day a second interpreter (George). He knew very little English, but two interpreters were essential. One was always needed in the hospital, and I wanted one for general work, for, though I had learnt some Serbian, I never risked giving important orders, or rebuking the men in a language of which I was not master; ridicule must, at all costs, be kept out of the relationship between us. I was obliged on that day, for instance, to correct, through the interpreter, one of the corporals; I had given him leave to visit his family, who lived near, and he returned 12 hours after his leave had expired, riding one of our horses. The P.M.O., to whom I reported him, said that he was to be punished by being sent at once to the front (he stayed with us, however, to the end).