Wednesday, December 17, 1941
Dear Diary, The next day I went to work on Ward 17. Here was something new. Here were the boys who were shot up December 7. They put me here for experience and boy I got it, something I will never forget. Here I never changed so many dressings in my life. We start out with a stretcher, the wheel type, with stacks of dressing, in fact stacks of everything and one large pail. Three Doctors: Captain Chun Horn, Denbst, Lt. Haven and nurses. First we go down the line and removed all dressings. Then we clean them and then they air. If sun is possible we sun them. Then Major Young and Col. Miller make their rounds and look over the progress every day (confidentially the Army all got hit in the fanny). We try some new things such as butterflies; they use these to close the large wounds. The main drug we used was prontosil

used with mineral oil or sprinkled on as a poultice. Most of the shrapnel went into their legs, on the inner thigh and groin. Every day we remove large chunks of jagged, rough shrapnel. Most of the boys save it. Some of them are having charm bracelets made for their girlfriends.
These boys can really take it. We dig, prod and monkey around in those ugly holes, pour in alcohol and iodine in them and they grin and say “pour it to me, it”™s not that bad, only when it goes in” and when it does it”™s hot and oh boy ten times worse than ants in the your pants or pouring Iodine in a raw cut.” Gosh they were swell, even those who lost legs, sight, hearing, arms were always right there, always saying, “when will I get out of so I can slant their eyes the other

way?” Never a complaint, always thinking, “When can I get out,” “How”™s about it Doc? Huh?!”