A MIRACLE WORKER.

Taihape Daily Times, Issue 220, 9 October 1917, Page 6

A MIRACLE WORKER.

“One of .the miracle-workers of surgery. ’’ That is how Captain H. D. Gillies is described by his soldier patients those men who have come 13ack from the with faces torn made hideous by shrapnel or bullet. During the war Captain Gillies has made plastic surgery a special study, and ho has accomplished some wonderful work in the treatment of facial and jaw injuries which he is now carrying on at a newly-opened hospital on the outskirts of *London. A New Zealander. Captain Gillies has been in this country, since he came to Cambridge University to take his degrees. Cn the Cam he quickly developed his talents as an oarsman, and won a place in the Light Blue boat to row against Oxford. Then he became fascinated by golf, the game which takes a place amongst the leading amateurs He kept his clubs at his consulting rooms in London, in order that he might go off to the links for an hour or two when he was free from his patients, but usually he had to be content with playing at the week-end. He is a most entertaining player,, and many times I have watched him stand before the ball with club in hands fascinated by delicacy of his touch. He has beautiful hands. His long fingers wrap round the club, and he manipulates it with the gentleness of the surgeon using his instruments at the operating table. The year' before the war he was in need of a holiday, so he went off to Prance, and took part in the French championship to give the world’s professionals perhaps the greatest shock they have ever experienced. For at the half-way stage this holiday-making doctor was at the head of the 150 odd competitors, and he had played so well that he had only to keep up his form next day to be certain of winning. That he failed in this was not surprising but his performance not only set the golfing world talking, but firmly established his reputation. Captain Gillies would belittle that groat day in France; far too much fuss, he thought, was made of it. I remember in the next competition in which he took part walking out to about the fifteenth hole with two Press colleagues to inquire how he was getting on. “6c away,’’ he said waiving his hand and smiling, “there are no sensations to-day. I have made a sad mess of things, and if you are honest you will say I have found my proper form. ”