Soyer's Culinary Campaign: Being Historical Reminiscences of the Late War.: With The Plain Art of Cookery for Military and Civil InstitutionsSoyer, Alexis
History
Soyer's Culinary Campaign: Being Historical Reminiscences of the Late War.: With The Plain Art of Cookery for Military and Civil Institutions
Soyer, Alexis
Cooking for military personnel; Crimean War, 1853-1856
Having done this, he said that he suddenly felt very thirsty. This was,
no doubt, owing to the loss of blood. I gave him some lemonade. He drank
above a pint, and felt more composed, and proceeded to the hospital,
near the English head-quarters. I accompanied him, and he told me that
his leg had just been amputated; and, with tears in his eyes, added, in
a low voice, “All I regret is, that my military career should have ended
so soon. I am but thirty years of age, and have only been two months in
the Crimea.”
“My dear friend,” I replied, to cheer him, “many thousands have done
less, and died; but you will survive, and be rewarded for your gallant
service--you belong to a nation which can appreciate noble devotion.”
“Ah!” said he, “you have done me a deal of good, no matter who you are;
if my life is spared, I beg you will let me see or hear from you.”
Though he gave me his name, not having my pocket-book with me, I could
not make a note of it. Some time after, I visited the hospital, in
company with Dr. Wyatt of the Coldstream Guards. We learnt that the man
who had been wounded in the head had died, but that the officer whose
leg had been amputated had been sent home to France.
About six in the evening, I and my Zouave visited the field of battle.
The sight was indeed a melancholy one. The French and Sardinians were
busily engaged burying their dead, as well as those of the enemy, but
were compelled to desist several times in consequence of the Russian
cannonade from the heights.
Bornet, my Zouave, perceiving that the Russians were firing upon the
Allies while burying their dead, got in such a towering passion, that I
thought he would have gone alone and taken the Russian batteries. I had
great difficulty in getting him home, for, as I have before said, the
smell of gunpowder was to him like the scent of a rat to a terrier.
On arriving on board the _Baraguay d’Hilliers_, we learnt from the
captain that he was to take his departure in a few days, at which I was
very sorry, not having opened my kitchen, nor being as yet installed in
the camp. I applied to the harbour-master, who advised me to choose the
_Edward_; as she was a transport and laden with hospital stores, she was
likely to remain longest in harbour.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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