Nangalin Railway-station presented a scene of dreadful chaos. Trains loaded with wounded were leaving for Arthur. Owing to the suddenness of the retirement and the disorganization, no arrangements for food had been made, and men of all branches of the service, badly wounded and exhausted by the long battle, lay tortured with hunger, thirst, and cold. The dim forms of the gunners of Kinchou could be seen prowling about the platform as they searched for food; others were lying huddled together, sleeping. The first and second class refreshment-rooms were filled with officers, whose numbers were being momentarily increased by fresh arrivals by train, on horseback, on bicycles, and on foot. Nobody knew anything or what to do; every one waited for orders which did not come, for none of the commanders were there. The majority of the senior officers, having eaten, were lying on the floor. A long train filled with wounded was standing at the platform ready to start; it had been there for some time. The medical officers were performing acrobatic feats in their efforts to pass along from one goods waggon to another, and were doing their best by the dim light of the lamps to alleviate the terrible suffering. 'Tell them to get us some water; the men want something to drink, and we have only got distilled water required for doing the dressings,' said one of the doctors to a railway official. 'There isn't any. We never expected this rush, and what we had has been used. There is only dirty water.' 'But the men are dying of thirst, to say nothing of hunger. How much longer is the train going to stop here? It is torture to the wounded.' 'Captain ---- won't allow us to start.' Opposite the station buildings I saw a group of men gesticulating and heard angry voices. I went towards them, hoping to find out what the delay was. '... I ask, I demand that the train be started at once. In the name of humanity all haste must be made to get the wounded into a hospital as soon as possible. Every moment with some of them means life or death. It is utterly absurd to talk of _issuing rifles_ to them, and it would take hours.' It was the senior doctor of the hospital train speaking. Taking advantage of his authority as a staff-officer of the district, Captain ---- insisted that the rifles piled up on the platform should be issued to the wounded men. Both men got angry, and the staff-officer, annoyed that a doctor should attempt to question his arrangements, assumed a haughty and peremptory tone. 'Don't torture the wounded. The train is a long one, full of awful cases, and they are lying all on top of one another. There's no room for rifles,' implored the doctor.