What would have become of the wounded if the Red Cross nurses had not been on the field to help them, nobody knows, except that thousands of "mothers' boys" were saved, who in a few hours more would have been beyond mortal aid. No wonder bearded men wept like babies and blessed the angels of mercy as they passed. The boys went into the fight hungry, lay for two days in trenches, almost without food; and when they were wounded, were ordered to make their way to the rear as best they could. Men with desperate wounds had to walk or crawl perhaps a mile; perhaps five or six miles, over the wild, rough country, those who were least injured, assisting their comrades, and hundreds dying by the wayside. Had the Red Cross been allowed its way in the beginning, many of these horrors would have been avoided. The few army surgeons did all in their power, but nearly everything they-needed to allay suffering was lacking, and so insufficient was the force that many of the wounded lay for days before their turn came. Men taken from the operating table, perhaps having just had a leg or arm cut off, or with bodies torn by bullets, were laid naked on the rain-soaked ground, without shelter, and in the majority of cases without even blankets. And there they lay through two long days and nights. All honor to the Red Cross Society which finally forced its way to the spot and knew exactly what to do. [Illustration: Captain "Buckey" O'Neill.] Some time after the return of the "Rough Riders" to the United States, Colonel Roosevelt told some interesting experiences: "I recollect, as I was sitting, I gave a command to one of my orderlies, and he rose up and saluted and fell right forward across my knees dead. The man upon whom I had most to rely--I relied upon all of those gallant men, but the man upon whom I most relied, Buckey O'Neill--was standing up, walking up and down in front of his men, wanting to show them by his example that they must not get nervous, and to reassure them. "Somebody said, 'Captain--Captain O'Neill! You will be struck by a bullet as sure as fate; lie down! lie down!' and he laughed, and said, 'Why, the Spanish bullet is not made that will kill me!' And the next minute a bullet struck him in the mouth and came out the back of his head and he was killed right there. "Captain Jenkins crept up beside one of his sharpshooters and said to him, 'I see a Spaniard over in that tree, give me your rifle for a moment.' He fired two or three shots and then turned around and handed the rifle back to the man, and the man was dead--had been killed without making a sign or sound as he stood beside him. "I was talking to a gallant young officer, asking him questions, and he was answering. I turned around and he had been shot through the stomach."