Other ambulances had been established in different parts of the town; but this was the principal one, and there were six other surgeons besides myself attached to it. I pulled off my coat, and went to work at once. The first man whom I tackled had walked down from the field. He had been shot through the jaw, and was much blanched from loss of blood. I plugged the hole with lint, and passed on to the next unfortunate, who had been shot through the liver by a fragment of shell. Part of the liver was sticking out through the wound, and the man, who was much collapsed, although quite conscious and in great pain, formed a shocking spectacle. He had a great tear in his liver. I stitched it up and washed the wound; but the case was a hopeless one. If I could have given him chloroform, thoroughly opened him up, and washed everything out, I might have been able to save him; but there was no time for that. He lingered on in great agony, and died on the following day. In dealing with gunshot wounds, where the variety is practically unlimited and no two cases are the same, the surgeon has to be resourceful and inventive. I was here brought face to face with conditions which were quite new to me, and with extraordinary complications, which required the most delicate and careful operations, but which had to be dealt with out of hand and in a few minutes. Looking back now I am filled with wonder that so many of our wounded recovered, considering the unfavourable conditions under which they were treated. The third man whom I tackled had been struck in the abdomen by a piece of shell, and about one foot of his intestine was projecting through the wound. In that condition he had been carried from the hill where he was shot, and, needless to say, he was in a horrible condition. I washed the intestine, enlarged the wound, again shifted the intestine back into its place, and stitched the wound up. In a week or two the man recovered, and went back to his place in the ranks.