| An account of the doctors necessarily implies an
account of the Field Ambulances. Each of these consisted of two main divisions-the tent division (dispensers, dressers, cooks, etc.), and the stretcher-bearers. Medical officers were in charge of each section. The stretcher-bearers rendered first aid in the field, if possible under the direction of a medical officer, and then carried the wounded, often under shell fire, and over most difficult tracks, to a dressing station or field ambulance, where the Cross of St. George and the Union Jack were always flying.
If a soldier was wounded in the firing line or advanced trenches, he was at once attended to by the Regimental Medical Officer and his orderly. Regimental stretcher-bearers would then carry the patient to a dressing shelter near by; again he would be attended to, and then another squad of stretcher-bearers would
transfer him to a field ambulance. Here the wounded were thoroughly examined, often re-dressed, and made as
easy and comfortable as circumstances would permit.
After a few hours' rest in the welcome shelter, the wounded were carried at
sunset to a casualty clearing station. Here, if necessary, they were operated upon. When it was dark, all the patients were transferred to a
barge, and taken out to one of the many Hospital Ships anchored in the Aegean Sea.
Many of the men were seriously wounded, and suffered great pain; still it was the exception to hear any complaints, for the wounded knew
that the doctors and ambulance men were doing their very utmost to relieve them of pain under great disadvantages.
Words of praise and thanks continually came from them. During a heavy rush many a man would
say, "Doc. look at that other fellow first; he looks bad." The Australasian always thinks of his mate first.
Amongst the rank and file of the A.M.C. were to be found clergy,
lawyers, schoolmasters, engineers, and many medical students. Nearly every wounded man who was attended to at a Field Ambulance on Gallipoli will tell true tales of their work and devotion.
Perhaps the bravest men on Anzac were the stretcher-bearers and other men of the Red Cross. They were just as much exposed to fire as the combatants, but were at a disadvantage with these, inasmuch as they had to work in the open, with no trench to protect them, and with no chance
of retaliating. They had to bring men down precipitous cliffs from the firing line to safety, and did this under heavy shrapnel and rifle fire as a matter of daily duty. The wounded have no words to express their
admiration for the Red Cross men, who literally do not know the meaning of fear.
To add to the perils of the Red Cross, the Turks at first submitted it to especially heavy bombardment, as its symbol seemed to infuriate them and to be regarded as a kind of Crusading sign. But when they found out its true meaning, they came to respect it chivalrously. The heroism of the Red Cross men is well illustrated by the statement of an Australian War Correspondent that two stretcher-bearers who were carrying a wounded officer down through shell fire, stopped whenever they
hear a shell coming, put the stretcher down, and threw themselves across his body to save him from the shrapnel.
In this connection may be mentioned one of the most famous figures of Anzac-"the man with the donkey." The donkey was called
"Murphy." The inscription over the man's grave runs, "Sacred to the memory of Private W. Simpson, of the 3rd Field Ambulance." Already his story is told with the variations pertaining to heroic legend. Some say his partner was a donkey little bigger than a Newfoundland dog; others duplicate and change the animal into a couple of mules. For us, Simpson may remain "the man
with the donkey."
Whatever else may be legendary, there is nothing legendary about the heroic work which the pair did among the wounded at Anzac. It is no exaggeration to say that between them they saved hundreds of lives. Their daily "bag" of wounded was often from 12 to 15. The man would work
under heavy fire and bring back the limp bodies to where he had left the donkey under cover. The pair would also bring water to the wounded, and the man was as eagerly looked for as any
figure on the Peninsula.
They worked chiefly up and down Shrapnel Gully, and in the death zone around Quinn's Post. They seemed to bear a charmed life; but one morning the charm was broken. They were returning slowly, laden with wounded, when a Turkish machine-gun rattled out from Dead Man's Ridge, and the man fell shot through the heart. The donkey walked into safety. That night there was mourning in Anzac. |