A mountain of corpses and a sea of blood!

On this day, there were hardly any other words to describe the tragic state of Dublin's outer defensive line other than these four words!

Heavy casualties!

Perhaps it is no longer appropriate to describe the price paid by the Eloland Republican Army. Pen "Fun" Pavilion www.biquge.info

Only the mountain of corpses and the sea of blood are more appropriate.

When the gunfire and artillery stopped, the whole battlefield was silent.

No, it's not silence!

Instead, the screams and groans of the wounded echoed everywhere, and the whole battlefield was littered with corpses and custodians, green and red intertwined on the battlefield, green for the Irish, red for the British, green for the grass, red for blood!

At this time, it was no longer possible to distinguish who was Irish and who was British, and now, there were only two kinds of people left on this battlefield, one was a dead man, and the other was a person waiting to die.

Of course, neither the Irish nor the British would let their own people die. Almost immediately after the ceasefire, the British took the initiative to raise the white flag, only a second or two earlier than the Irish, and then the representatives of both sides in the middle of the battlefield between the piles of corpses, it took a dozen seconds to finalize everything, and both sides agreed to a temporary ceasefire in order to rescue the wounded and remove the bodies of the other side.

Because it was the height of summer, they knew very well that if the corpses were not removed, the whole battlefield would be covered in a foul stench in a matter of hours, and the disease would knock them down.

Almost as soon as the two sides were settled, hundreds of soldiers and medics who had laid down their arms rushed to the battlefield to rescue the wounded. The first to be rescued were the wounded, of course, and thousands of them were carried into carriages and then taken to field hospitals.

A few hours later, when the bodies and wounded on the battlefield had been removed, the battle began again, and then, when both sides felt that it was about the same, the battlefield was silent again, and then both sides rescued the wounded again and carried away the bodies...... And so on and so forth.

The bodies of the dead were sent to the cemetery for hastily burial, and the wounded were sent to field hospitals, which are certainly rudimentary, both for the British and for the Chinese.

Unlike the British, China's field ambulance system was established together as early as the time when the Han army was built under the direct intervention of Zhu Yifeng, and at the same time of establishing this system, he drew on many basic nursing experiences that were widely known in later generations.

In contrast, the field rescue of the British is still extremely primitive, and even its current field rescue is completely dependent on one man, Nightingale. During the Crimean War, she led 38 nurses to the front line to serve in field hospitals. At that time, the sanitary conditions of the field hospitals in Britain were extremely poor, and the various resources were extremely scarce, and the mortality rate of field soldiers in Britain was as high as 42%. She did her best to overcome all kinds of difficulties, provide the necessary daily necessities and food for the wounded, and carefully care for them. In just half a year or so, the mortality rate of the sick and wounded dropped to 2.2 per cent. Every night, she patrolled with a wind lantern in her hand, and the wounded and sick affectionately called her "the goddess of lanterns". After the war, Nightingale returned to England and was revered as a national hero.

And now, in the wake of the war, she created the world's first formal nursing school two years ago with more than £4,000 in government awards. She immediately led her students and colleagues to Ireland to serve Britain in their own way.

Although during the Crimean War, Nightingale was authorized by the military medical corps to carry out a series of drastic reforms to field hospitals, including the purchase of additional equipment, nursing night patrols, the installation of call bells, and the increase in the number of nursing teams, professional training of nursing staff, etc. In 1855, the mortality rate of British wounded in field hospitals fell to a historic 2.2 percent, a drop of 94.76 percent.

But after the outbreak of this war, Nightingale, who came to Ireland, found that the medic seemed to be forgetful, they seemed to have forgotten the experience of the previous war, so much so that her work had to start from scratch. Re-establishing the care system for the wounded and retraining personnel,

Despite all the renewal, Nightingale still worked dutifully, for her faith, but also for her fellow citizens.

However, compared to the lack of water and poor sanitary conditions in the field hospitals in the Crimean battlefield, the conditions of the field hospitals in Dublin are undoubtedly paradise, and the field hospitals set up in warehouses or schools are at least far better than the Crimea.

But the improvement of conditions does not mean that the wounded can be well treated, after all, compared to the number of wounded, there are always too few doctors, although the doctors are constantly busy, but there will always be a steady stream of wounded to come, the original spacious dock warehouse, this will be more crowded with the wounded, doctors are operating on the wounded in the dim light, nurses are shuttling between the wounded, and on the side is a wounded waiting for treatment.

For the ordinary wounded, they can only wait, after all, they are just ordinary soldiers, and there is no way to be sent to a better hotel like those officers, where they are treated by doctors, and injustice is inevitable even here. Of course, they could not see all this, and all the wounded still put their hopes in the doctors and nurses who were too busy as before. After a busy few hours of work, Nightingale, already exhausted, went to the courtyard where the field hospital was located.

Everything in front of her made her whole body in unprecedented shock, and she couldn't even believe what her eyes were seeing.

All she saw was death!

None of this can be compared to the Crimean battlefield.

Everything seems to be red as far as the eye can see.

Blood, bright red and glaring, dripped down the cracks of the carriage, and in the distance, corpses were piled up in a mess, like messy cargo on the docks, discarded there at will.

Soon, the bodies would be carried away and buried hastily in a plot of land around the city, and everything would be hastily done.

War!

Nightingale is no stranger to war, during the Crimean War, she volunteered to go there as a nurse to help the soldiers who fought for Britain, so she knows the cruelty of war, and she also knows what the battlefield is like.

But now, all this in front of her completely turned her perception upside down, because here, what she saw was death instead of death.

Every day here is more than she could have imagined, or rather, more than her impression of war. Although dying in the war was inevitable, she did not expect that so many people would die.

Hundreds of people die every day!

The red blood, blackened by drying, seeped into the planks of the carriage, and no matter how much people washed it, it never washed off the smell of blood, so no one washed it, and now, the carriages that were parked in the yard to transport the wounded now looked a little like the wagons of a slaughterhouse—even if they looked clean, the carriage still smelled of blood.

Abattoir!

For a moment, Nightingale seemed to feel like she was in a slaughterhouse, watching her valiant soldiers being killed by the enemy.

One heroic Englishman after another was killed by the Irish!

"More ...... they died"

Staring at the corpse in front of her, Nightingale's mind conjured up the words of some of the wounded, according to whom the Irish had paid an even heavier price.

Even on the first day, they killed at least 10,000 Irishmen.

Tens of thousands!

O my God!

Although there was not much sympathy for those rebels, Nightingale still felt a pang of heartache at the thought of so many deaths.

"Why do you have to be independent......

Looking at the corpses that had been thrown into the carriage like pigs slaughtered in a slaughterhouse, Nightingale had the question that she did not know and could not understand the actions of the Irish.

Why do you have to be independent?

Why do you have to pay such a heavy price?

Nightingale didn't know that, as a devout believer, she couldn't comprehend this cruel and unforgiving reality, and as she gazed at the corpses that had been pulled away, her eyes even involuntarily filled with tears.

Tears eventually rolled down her cheeks, and she stood there silently, her whole expression extremely low.

She couldn't understand it, she couldn't accept this cannibalism, she only felt a tingling in her heart.

Is it for England? Or for Ireland?

For her, perhaps, whether it is England or Ireland, it is the same.

But for those wounded, England and Ireland are fundamentally different, even now, even in this rudimentary field hospital, they are still cursing the Irish, the Chinese, eager to kill all the Irish and Chinese, for all this, Nightingale is no stranger, in fact, in the Crimean War, she witnessed those people curse the Russians again and again.

Now here, the objects of their curse have changed, and they have become Irish and Chinese, who are just venting their physical pain in this way, although it will not help their recovery in any way.

They are all God's people, so why do they have to kill each other?

While Nightingale was thinking so in her heart, suddenly she thought of another fact - Chinese are infidels!

The Chinese are infidels!

When Nightingale had such a thought in her heart, when she tried to excuse herself with this excuse, there was still a lot of grief outside the city, for those Irish who had attacked again, but failed miserably, and now, what they had experienced was draining their sharpness little by little, for them, for the first time, they really experienced the cruelty of war, and even felt a certain despair,

On this battlefield, it seems that everything is hopeless. They didn't know what the war would bring, but no matter how hard they tried and were willing to fight for Ireland, the brutality of the war taught them that courage alone could not defeat the enemy.

Even on this battlefield, courage has become a sort of laughing stock. No amount of courage changed a reality, the reality that it would never be possible to storm the British line.

A pair of Irish officers and soldiers who had just been withdrawn from the front line, tired walking on the road, their faces could no longer be seen, the spirit of the first time they entered the war, all they could see was exhaustion, and behind the exhaustion, a desperate mood permeated their hearts.

As they retreated to the rear, they always looked at the wagon, which was full of corpses, their comrades, their brothers, but the people who had laughed with them in the trenches had now become cold corpses.

On this battlefield, death is inevitable for everyone! Even if death is successfully averted, what awaits them?

It's just the difference between dying today or dying tomorrow!

War is never a game!

War comes at the cost of blood.

In the middle of a field in the back, the peasants dug up the graves, and from time to time the wagons drove here, and then the peasants dragged the bodies from the wagons into simple coffins and buried them in the graves, while the priest stood in front of the coffins. Pray for God's people.

An unpainted, half-inch-thick wooden coffin was what the warriors had received after their deaths, and, of course, the prayers of the priests for them, for the young Irish people, who had perhaps never thought of what was to come.

While this simple funeral was going on, the soldiers who had withdrawn from the front would always look here, and maybe, soon they would be buried here, and maybe, soon they would die!

Just as people were imagining this, suddenly, there was a commotion from the crowd in front of them, and then only someone could hear someone whispering there.

"The Chinese are coming!"

I don't know who said it first, and then people looked in the direction where the sound came from, and then they were pleasantly surprised to see a team of soldiers who looked completely different from them, that was their ally, the Chinese!

The Chinese are coming!

At this moment, the exhaustion on the faces of those soldiers disappeared, and the desperate eyes also showed hope, as if each of them believed that the arrival of the Chinese would bring them victory!

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