Sadly, a number did die. Their eyes also revealed their suffering and pain, Their stoicism under such traumas had to be witnessed to be believed. As we approached the Burns Ward, to report for duty, the stench from putrefying flesh was overpowering, the memory of which remains with me to this day. There was a degree of opposition or resentment to our intrusion into their domain. Possibly it was an example of male chauvinism, circa 1950's.
Drastic situations demand drastic action.
All we wanted to do was to nurse and care for our wounded. Our living quarters were spartan, being a very small cubicle, a bed or stretcher with just enough room for our military trunk. There were no doors to the cubicles but somehow we scrounged fabric and sewed curtains to hang over the door frames. There was no running water. The building was tapless.