HEROES OF THE MEDICAL CORPS

Otago Daily Times, Issue 16277, 9 January 1915, Page 11

HEROES OF THE MEDICAL CORPS

SURG MOWS NOBLK WORK ON THE BATTLKFtKLI). It is impossible to conreive of work that, demands a higher order of courage, self-sacrifice, and devotion than that of the surgeon on the field of bottle—work carried on mostly under fire, when bullets rain pitilessly around, and the very hand that eased ,i sufferer's pain might the next itself l)o stilled iri death. A heavy toll in killed and wounded has been .exacted from the ranks of these dauntless non-combatants, and it is surely a most remarkable tribute to the part which they have played in the war that two ariny surgeons were among the first — if they were not actually the very first— to be recommended for the Victoria Cross. —Scottish 1I e roes.— It is a curious and pathetic coincidence that the two heroes, brave sons of Scotia both of them—have since been laid low, one killed at the battle of the Aisne and the other died from wounds received in action. Their names aw Dr J. Laidlaw Huggan and Captain Harry Sherwood Ranken. The former was attached to the 3rd Battalion Coldstream Guards, and earned great fame for his achievements on the field. A native of Jedburgh, he played Rugby with the Jedforest Club for many years, and in March last played for Scotland against England at Edinburgh. An oflicer of the Coldstream Gnards says that Dr Huggnn was extraordinarily rnllant, and two days before he was killed he was recommended for the V.C. for organising and leading a paTtv of volunteers to remove a number of wounded from a barn that had been set on fire by the German shell fire. The work was carried out under a very heavy shell fire, and all the wounded were saved. Captain Ranken, R.A.M.C., belonged to Irvine, where his father, the Rev. Henrv Ranken, is parish minister. He displayed exceptional bravery and devotion in the discharge of his duty, and was also recommended for the coveted Cross for Valour. He was wounded on the 19th September, and died six flays later. With that of Dr Hnggan, his name will now be added to the noble roll of heroes who have won the Victoria Cross; but, alas! were not spared to wear it. In spite of the fact that not infrequently the heroic surgeons of our "contemptible Irttle army" have been rather sparingly dealt with when honours were going round, after many an arduous campaign, that gallaot band has at all times displaced an enthusiasm and courage in the discharge of their duties that has won the heartfelt gratitude of all ranks. The records of every campaign are resplendent with their deeds of high courage, coolnors, and infinite resource. —A Crimea Incident.— Amid the enormous difficulties and privations of the Crimea they did many a fine piece of work. Surgeon Mouat, of the 6th Dragoon Guards, won his "Cross" for saving the life of one of the stricken heroes of the immortal Light Brigade. After that historic charge, as all the world knows, only a remnant of the gallant fellows came back "through the iaws of death, back from the mouth of hell," and of those that survived many were grievously wounded. One such was Captain Morris, who led a troop of the 17th J/incers. This gallant officer was token prisoner by the Russians after a terrific fight, but in the confusion he managed to escape. Sorely wounded and on foot, for his second horse had been shot winder him, he struggled towards the british lines, but collapsed from sheer exhaustion. Sergeant-major Wooden, of the same regiment, pluckilv 6tood by the body until he saw a surgeon. This was Surgeon Mouat, who promptly went over to the wounded officer, and, despite the heavy fire that was being kept up, dressed his wounds as coolly as if he had been in the operating room! His skill stopped the hemorrhage, which undoubtedly saved the officer's life, and for this, as well as for getting the wounded man back to safety, fh& brave surgeon was awarded the V.C. Sergeant-major Wooden was decorated at the same time. — Mutiny Reminiscences.— It is impossible to read of the black days of the Indian Mutiny without being struck by the rare courage and magnificent spirit of self-sacrifice and devotion which characterised the work of the surgeons attached to the British forces. Heroes like Surgeons Jee, M'Master, Home, and Bradshaw can never be forgotten for the glorious work which they did on that historic September day in 1857 when Havelock and Outram " fought their way into Lucknow. Surgeon Jee and Assistant-surgeon M'Master were attached to the old "Rossshire Buffs," now the Seaforth Highlanders, and the severe fighting which ensued in the narrow, tortuous lanes leading to the Residency more than filled their hands with work. Words cannot describe the horrors of that terrible journey to the Residency, and the many misfortunes which befell the British troops en route. But neither shot, shell, nor devib'sh artifice of the rebels disturbed the calm, resolute courage of Surgeon Jee, who stuck to his post throughout the most appalling circumstances, and many a poor fellow lived through that inferno to bless the brave, tender-hearted doctor and his assistants to whom he owed his life. When a sadly depleted force reached the Residency at length. General Havelock warmly congratulated the plucky surgeon on his success of getting through, for he had heard that Jee had been killed. At practically the same time scenes of a somewhat similar nature were being enacted in another quarter of Lucknow; I and here," again, the surgeons—Home and Bradshaw—were performing prodigies of valour in keeping off the rebels and safeguarding the wounded under their charge. As Dr Home said, "The terrors of that awful night were almost maddening; raging thirst, uncertainty as to where the Sepoys would next make an attack: together with the exhaustion produced bv want of food, heat, and anxiety." But morning brought the welcome sound of rifle volleys, unmistakably British—and we all know what that means! Surgeons Jee, M'Master, Home, and Brarlshaw, with other heroes who had distinguished themselves, all received V.C.'s, and none who care to familiarise themselves with what these dauntless men accomplished during that stormy period can doubt that they worthily won the Empire's most distinctive badge for courage. I —A Maori Ambush.— Seven years later, in the New Zealand war, an act of heroism which gained the V.C. for an army .mrgeon and a bluejacket was the on.lv bright spot in a disaster of a kind which rarely befalls n British force. An engagement with the Maoris had resulted in their apparent defeat by the 68th and 43rd Regiments and 200 sailors from the warships off the coast. But the wily natives had laid a subtle ambush for their foes. It worked only too well. To all appearances the last of the Maoris had fled, and in fancied securitv many of the British troops had laid aside their rifles, and were wandering carelessly about the stockade, when suddenly, from concealed holes and rifle-pits, a whole host of native warriors appeared. 11l fared it then with the unarmed " Tommies " and sailors, as the Maoris fell upon them with rifle and war-clnb. A panic ensued, and every man sought to save his own skin, 'flic slaughter of our men was terrific. Then it was that Surgeon Maniev and Samuel Mitchell, captain of the foretop of H.M.S. Harrier, won glory for themselves by a gallant rescue. Commander Hay, of the Naval Brigade, fell hadly wounded, and lay groaning on the ground. All were in full flight, but seeing the serious plight of his officer, Mitchell ran to his side, picked him lip | and bore him outside the stockade. Here he found Dr Manley, who, heedless of the enemy's bullets, skilfully bound up the officer's wounds, and then with i,he help of Mitchell, carried the dying man back to enmp. Brave Maniev did more than this. He returned voluntarily to the stockade, and coolly set about tending the wounded, and eventually raw to their removal to a place of safety. Grim, ghastly work it was. too, with a hot f're sweeping the stockade all the time. The plucky doctor seemed to bear a charmed life, and escaped scathleps. Both be and Mitchell were awardei! 4he V.C. some months later. — African Instances.— Who has not heard the story of Rorke's Drift ? li- stands out as one the most » episodes in our whole military

annals, every man in that gallant defence* against overwhelming numbers, proving himself a hero. No Jess than 11 Crosses were awarded to the noble defenders, one being pinned on the manly breast of Surgeon-major Reynolds for his great devotion to the wounded under fire. Again, in the brief Basuto rebellion in 1879, it was given to a brave army doctor to worthily uphold the traditions of that noble brotherhood, whose record is bo resplendent with chivalric deeds. Surgeonmajor Hartley, of the Cape Mounted Rifles, was tbe name of the recipient of the Victoria Cross on this occasion, two troopers of tbe same corps also meriting the same distinction. As in many other cases, Dr Hartley won his Crow for particular gallantry in attending the mounded under fire, and in going out in the open to bring in a soldier, who was lying badly wounded only a few yards from tbe Basutos' stronghold. — Burma and Chitral.— Exactly ten years later one of our 'little wars" in Upper Burma was conspicuous for the extraordinary courage and devotion of Surgeon John Crimmin, of the Bombay Medical Service. The enemy consisted of a group of semi-independent tribes named the Red Karens, and Surgeon Crimmin was attached to the Indian troops scut to quell their turbulent spirits. The Karens soon saw to it that the doctor got plenty of work to do, an action on New Year's Day, in 1889, resulting in many of the Bombay infantrymen being bowled over. Heedless of the bullets spitting around him, Crimmin proceeded to utilise his skill for the benefit of the wounded men. At one time he was ret upon by nearly a dozen of the enemy, who leapt out of the bamboos with wild yells. The doctor dropped his lint and bandages, whipped out his sword, ran the first maa through, and was making another bite the dust while a Sepoy dropped a third. This was more than the Karens had bargained for, and the remainder did not stand on the order of their going. Then the surgeon coolly went on with his work, the wounded men murmuring many a "God bless ycW, doctor sahib," as he "bent over them. A plucky night rescue in far-off Chitral, in 1895, brought Surgeon-captain Whitchurch the coveted bit of bronze —space prevents us recounting in detail an act glowing with. Homeric courage and devotion. In the South African war the Royal Army Medical Corps more than maintained—it superbly added to—its fine record, no lees than seven Crosses being won by members of that splendid body. — What Mr Churchill Saw.— And now a word about a hero who did not get the V.C.—he was value for it, aa you will admit when you hear what he did. Mr Winston Churchill says that it was the bravest deed he ever witnessed on any battlefield—and the gallant First Lord nas seen a few stirring deeds in his time. It was a summer night in 1897, when Britain was full of the glory and the triumph of Queen Victoria's diamond jubilee. On that night Winston Churchill was fighting in the wildest and most terrible of Himalayan hills. The enemy had made a sudden and ferocious attack on Makkand. One of the bravest of our officers, Lieutenant Ford, in leading a little rush was shot through the shoulder, and fell dangerously wounded. It was pitch dark, and there was no moon. An army doctor—Surgeon-lieu-tenant Hugo—hearing of Ford's condition, instantly made his way to tiie swooning officer. No moon, no possibility of using lights, a deadly fire. The doctor did not hesitate, and groped about his body for the cause. It was too dark to see the nature of the wound. To strike a match would be to reveal his position to a watchful and a surrounding enemy. Not to do so meant death to the young subaltern. Hugo struck a match. On the instant a volley crashed out, and bullets came whizzing past his ear. The match burnt out. As it fell to the trampled earth Hugo's fingers gripped a severed artery in the wounded officer's torn flesh, and held in the pumping blood. For three hours, under a furious fire, without moon of any kind, the doctor knelt there, gripping that artery between his finger and thumb. Then, when it seemed that the enemy had broken into the camp, he lifted Ford in his arms, still gripping the artery, and bore him away to a place of safety. For many hours afterwards the doctor's arm was paralysed with cramp from the frightful exertion of compressing the artery. It was a glorious deed; worthy of the very