The second quotation is from the late Captain Welsh, M.C., D.C.M., who was then a staff sergeant with the stretcher-bearers. The work of the Field Ambulance and of the regimental medical officers during these days deserved the highest praise, and it was due to their gallantry and resource that the sufferings of the men in the wood were not more horrible. The weather was now hot sun, now drenching rain, and the task of getting out the casualties was one long nightmare. “The road from Longueval to Bernafay Wood was in an indescribable condition. It was impossible to carry from the front of the Regimental Aid Posts in Longueval, owing to the sniping, which was at times very severe and accurate. The rear was a mass of ruins, wire entanglements, garden fences, fallen and falling trees, together with every description of _débris_ and shattered building material. It is one thing to clear a path along which reinforcements may be brought, but quite another to make a track on which four men may carry a stretcher with a modicum of comfort to the patient.... Besides this road there was a narrow sunken lane, which at first afforded some safety, but later became so pitted with shell-holes that the bearers were compelled to take to the open. In addition to these difficulties, it must be remembered that these roads were shelled heavily day and night. At times the enemy would put up a barrage with heavy stuff, which meant that no stretcher-bearing could be done until the fire was over. Parties who were unfortunate enough to be caught in one of these barrages spent moments of nerve-racking suspense, crouching in shell-holes or under banks, or wherever cover was available. One of the worst experiences of this kind was when it was decided to shell Longueval once more. Very short notice was given to clear all the Regimental Aid Posts, and only two men per stretcher could be spared. Padres, doctors, and odd men were pressed into service to enable all patients to be removed. As the party left, the bombardment began on both sides. Scrambling, pushing, and slipping amid a tornado of shell-fire, they headed for Bernafay Wood. It was impossible to keep together, and in the darkness squads easily became detached and lost touch. The noise of bursting shells was incessant and deafening, while the continuous sing of the rifle and machine-gun bullets overhead tried the nerves of the hardiest. To crown all, it was raining, and the roads were almost impassable for stretcher work. In fact, had it not been for the light of the German star shells, the thing could not have been worked at all. As the night wore on squad after squad of tired, soaked, and mud-covered men stumbled into Bernafay Wood. Here came a medical officer covered with grime and mud from top to toe, carrying a stretcher with a kilted Scot. Then