The Germans built the 116th and opened it for business in 1937. Its bed capacity at first was 450, but when the invasion started, it was enlarged to accommodate 1,100. German patients were moved out on May 28, 1945, and the first American patient was admitted on June 24.

Right now, the 116th treats between 500 and 600 patients at a time. Because minor and secondary ailments are usually taken care of by lesser hospitals and unit medical officers, its cases are generally serious. But it has many emergency cases, and when a surgeon gets an emergency call, he usually can be sure that he is going to treat a gunshot wound or the victim of a traffic accident.

1/Lt. Annette Pelletier of Salem, Mass., a nurse in surgery, said most victims of military vehicle wrecks seemed to be considerably more banged up than traffic accident victims -- civilians -- she had seen in the States. The incidence of compound fractures, jagged bones protruding through arms and legs, seemed much greater over here, she thought.

The construction of Army trucks and jeeps might have something to do with it, but Nurse Pelletier thought it more likely that soldiers went helling along faster than their civilian counterparts.

"If some of these people who bat along at 60 miles an hour could stay in the operating room a week and see the condition of these men we get to treat, I don't think they'd drive so fast," Nurse Pelletier said.

Capt. Ivery E. Lamberth of Dallas, Tex., who is the head anesthetist and is in charge of surgial equipment, said most accidents on the highway in the Nurnberg area occurred in the early part of the night; if there were none before 1 a.m., he could be pretty sure there wouldn't be anything doing before daylight. In the States, most of the worst wrecks occur after midnight, when people are loaded to the antlers and eager to get home, or somewhere.

Lamberth said the reason for early accidents here seemed to be simple: Most outfits wanted their men to be in before 1 a.m., and they were usually injured going or coming.

A few nights ago, he said, an ambulance brought in a soldier who had suffered a crushing injury of the throat and chest on the highway. Crushed cartilage and bone had restricted his breathing until he was wheezing like a consumptive on his deathbed. And, the soldier was on his deathbed. He died on the operating table without even being able to tell his name.

As for the gunshot wounds, Lamberth said there were two stock explanations from victims: (1) "I had just started to take the clip out and didn't know there was a cartridge in the chamber;" or (2) "I had started to make a bargain for this gun and was just looking it over . . ."

The majority of gunshot wounds are minor; seldom does a victim have a slug in his chest or stomach. And, perhaps because of the widespread desire for redeployment, a gunshot wound victim can be sure that his story will not be accepted without investigation. If the investigation discloses that the wound was somewhat less than purely accidental, the victim loses rights to compensation and the facts are entered upon his record.

Anyway, a man's condition has to be such that he will require 120 days of hospitalization before he will be shipping back home.

Maj. Frederick J. Lesemann of Chicago, chief of surgical service, operates upon particularly delicate cases. Lt. Col Frank G. Stephens is acting commanding officer of the whole hospital.

Roughly one-fifth of the 116th's patients at a given time have syphillis or gonorrhea.

The 116th is shifting patients with VD in primary stages to another hospital, and is accepting only men with secondary infections. But it has some patients with primary infections whose treatment started before that ruling went into effect. They were not moved, because, if they had been, they would have had to start taking penicillin injections all over. The sequence cannot be broken.

Syphillis sufferers get 60 shots of penicillin, one every three hours. Gonorrhea patients get 15 shots of peninillin, one every three hours, plus a sulfa drug.

In the States and in the United Kingdom, men who contracted VD were usually quite willing to tell where they got it, technicians in the ward said. But when they get it from a German girl, they are usually inclined to stall when asked to identify her.

Though much of the 116th's business is conducted in the surgery and in the VD ward, it has facilities and departments to treat almost any disease or ailment. It has a psysio-therapy department, an X-ray department, a medical laboratory and a dental division that, under Lt. Col. William Rich, had over 9,500 sittings up to last Sept. 1.

Patients and personnel have a PX, a gift shop, a tailor shop and a soda fountain like the ones in Army hospitals back home. The soda fountain, particularly, looks out of place in Nurnberg and it serves the same things as a drugstore fountain on Broadway.

Judging from letters to the editor and discussions in Congress, it would seem that the question of being redeployed and discharged is a particularly hot one in the Medical Corps. So a few at the 116th were asked how they felt about it.

"I've been away from home a year, and I miss my wife and children," one medical officer said. "Naturally, I'd like to get back and see them."

He did not say that he thought he was losing a lot of money in the Army.

A group of nurses was asked whether they thought it was hurting them especially to be in the Army. The group included 1/Lt. Marie Glenhon of Newark, N. J.; 1/Lt. Alice Henderson of Brighton, Mass.; 1/Lt. Edythe Cieman of New York; 2/Lt. Bernadette Dryer of New York, and 1/Lt. Dorothy M. Berger of New York.

"It's like this," Nurse Berger said "We know what the point score is and we know approximately when we'll go home, so there isn't any uncertainty to speak of. Besides we volunteered."

One nurse, a young and comely one, was vigorously shaking her head and silently saying "no, no;" while Nurse Berger was speaking. But because Lt. Glennon is superintendent of nurses in surgery, she probably would rather not be identified.