‘The poor fellows endured their sufferings with heroic fortitude amounting in appearance to indifference to their fate… There has been somehow unaccountable neglect in the arrangements for this hospital. Several were more or less severely wounded and others were completely prostrated by fever and dysentery. Many were grimed with mud, dirt, blood etc and gunpowder stains. were swarming with vermin, huge lice crawling all about their persons and clothes. On being brought inside the hospital several were found to be dead, many were at their last gasp, and others it was evident had but a short time to live. ‘They were with few exceptions in a truly pitiable state of filth and utterly helpless from wounds and debility. Letter by Sergeant Frederick Newman, 97th Regiment, who died of fever two weeks after posting it, I am rather loose in my bowels, but take as much care of myself as possible.' I have just commenced to write again and there are now six poor fellows lying dead. being satisfied with enough to drink without washing my face and as for a clean shirt I think when I can find it convenient to wash one then I will put one on. ![]() I have not washed my face nor yet shaved since I landed here. 'Water is very scarce and extremely muddy. ![]() We manage it somehow, by grinding it in a broken bombshell with a round shot to crush it. Just like our government, the idea of sending coffee here not roasted. We get biscuits salt pork or beef and one gill of rum with some sugar rice and unroasted coffee. Cholera has broke out amongst the poor fellows who are exposed in the trenches day and night with nothing but their big coats to shelter them from the rain or cold. 'We are now about three miles from Sebastopol and under canvas tents, the rain pouring in torrents and all around miserable.
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