Voices of tired men, Sick, convalescent, afraid of being sick. “The diarrhea is bad. I hope I don’t get it But everybody seems to get it sometime. I felt sick last night. I thought I was going to die, But Jim rubbed me and I feel better. There’s just one thing, I hope I never get sent to the hospital, You don’t get well when you go to the hospital. I’d rather be shot and killed quick.” (Nurses and doctors, savagely, tenderly working, Trying to beat off death without enough knowledge, Trying and failing. Clara Barton, Old Mother Bickerdyke, Overworked evangels of common sense, Nursing, tending, clearing a ruthless path Through the cant and red tape, through the petty jealousies To the bitter front, bringing up the precious supplies In spite of hell and high water and pompous fools, To the deadly place where the surgeons’ hands grew stiff Under the load of anguish they had to deal,