by Kate Eastham
Lampeter coughed and muttered something but the women couldn’t make out what he was saying. Ada looked across and saw that he was waiting for the afterbirth to be delivered and she knew, from the story of her own birth, that this was a dangerous time too.
He asked Ada to help the woman put the baby to the breast, which they did, although both looked too exhausted to feed or suckle. However these movements must have helped complete the task of delivering the afterbirth, as suddenly there was a slipping, plopping sound and Lampeter was massaging the woman’s abdomen. Ada could see a small pool of blood developing beneath the woman and hoped that this was nothing to worry about.
Lampeter didn’t seem to be too concerned but kept massaging the woman’s abdomen. Then he asked Ada to find as clean a piece of linen as she could. This happened to be the woman’s underclothes, which she was asked to press between the woman’s legs while Lampeter wiped up the blood and wrapped the strange meaty, flat disc of afterbirth, straggled with membranes, in a filthy blanket. He then disappeared out of the tent and Ada heard him telling the father of the baby and what sounded like a large group of people gathered outside that all was well and they had a baby girl.
Ada and the woman had a few silent moments together. The woman looked at Ada and quietly said, ‘Thank you, nurse,’ and then, ‘What’s your name?’
‘It’s Ada. My name’s Ada.’
The woman looked disappointed. ‘I can’t call her that,’ she said, starting to laugh. ‘It’s his mother’s name and we fight like cat and dog.’
Ada started to laugh as well. ‘What will you call her then?’
A couple of army wives were coming in through the flap of the tent.
‘Call her Alma,’ piped up one of the wives immediately. ‘A baby girl born in the Crimea should be called Alma.’
Ada looked at the woman, puzzled for a moment, and then she remembered Tom Dunderdale mentioning a battle.
‘It was the first big battle of the war, last September, and our men fought like red devils. We fought with the French and the Turks and we won. At least we won that one.’
‘I’ll call her Alma then,’ said the new mother, cutting her friend short. ‘After all, she had to fight to get into this world,’ she went on, looking down at her new baby’s face.
Seeing the tears that were welling up in the mother’s eyes her friends started with their congratulations, hugging and kissing and then crying as well.
Ada was overwhelmed; she didn’t know what to say and so she quietly left the tent.
Once outside she was shocked to see such a large group of soldiers and wives. This seemed like one big family. Alma’s father already had a large cigar and they were all clapping and cheering.
No sign of Lampeter, though; he seemed to have disappeared very quickly.
As she came through the crowd outside the tent, she saw someone standing quietly at the edge of the group. She recognized him instantly: the groom she had seen on the ship. As she walked by him, she felt his eyes on her and sensed a small smile on his face.
Ada never caught up with Lampeter but was informed that the doctor had decided it was too late for them to set off back that night, and that he’d gone to the cabin of an officer he knew.
The mood in camp was one of celebration. Uncertain as life was for all those required to live there, and especially for the new baby delivered in the midst of war, it seemed that this made it necessary to celebrate all the more. That evening there seemed no end to the number of soldiers and women patting Ada on the back and congratulating her, offering her rum, which she refused, and a pipe of tobacco, which she tried but made her cough her guts up, much to the amusement of the group. She felt welcomed and warmed by the camaraderie and the hospitality of this group of rough-looking people – the men with their long beards and tattered uniforms, the women with their unruly hair and patched-up skirts.
Amidst the booming of the guns they continued to celebrate, and as night fell, the flare and sparkle of the shells in the sky seemed almost like fireworks.
Finally, exhausted, Ada was allowed to find space in a tent next to the looming marquee that was the field hospital, and fell sound asleep on a blanket on the ground.
She woke in the dark, early hours of the morning to the sound of gunfire and a loud bugle. Someone ran into the tent, shouting, ‘Get up, get up! It’s a turn-out.’ She didn’t know what that was but jumped up off the ground immediately, and after hitting her head on the tent pole and falling over a box managed to stagger outside.
The whole camp was alive. Lights were moving and bugles blowing. She asked someone what it meant and they told her that the Russians had attempted a night attack. Staring up at the beautiful night sky full of stars, Ada found it hard to believe that they were all in the midst of war.
When the firing died down after about an hour, she was shocked to learn that there had indeed been an attack that night, with at least three British soldiers killed. Once the ‘All clear’ was sounded she was told to go back to her tent. No more sleep would come, though, and she was more than glad when light began to show through the seams of the tent.
When the sun had risen, she went to find the tent of the new mother and baby. It was easy to spot because someone had attached a large pair of pink bloomers to the top that flapped in the breeze.
Ada hovered outside the tent for some time, unsure of how to enter. You couldn’t knock on the door and you couldn’t see who, if anyone, was inside. She listened through the canvas and thought she could hear the small sounds of a baby, but amidst the noise of morning camp and the shelling at the front line, it was very difficult.
Suddenly the flap of canvas that served as a door was thrown back and the new father darted out. ‘Morning, miss,’ he said as if it was the most natural thing in the world to see her there. ‘Go on in and see them.’
On re-entering the shaded interior she was relieved to find a much calmer scene than that of the day before. The woman sat nursing the baby, still wrapped in Ada’s red shawl, her gaze fixed on the small bundle that had caused so much pain and so much trouble. The baby was feeding well at the breast, with small bubbles of milk at the side of her mouth.
The woman looked up and smiled at Ada, thanking her again for what she had done. Ada smiled, enjoying this moment of calm. Then she realized something. ‘What’s your name?’ she asked. ‘We didn’t have much time to introduce ourselves yesterday, did we?’
‘I’m Miriam,’ laughed the woman. ‘No, we didn’t have much time for some reason.’
‘How are you today?’
‘A bit sore down there,’ said the woman, ‘but my friend’s had a look and she said that it all looks like what you’d expect after pushing a baby out.’
‘Must be more than a bit sore,’ said Ada. Even after seeing it a number of times, she had no idea how any woman’s body could recover from such an incredible feat.
‘She’s worth it,’ said Miriam, looking down at the baby. ‘She’s worth every bit of it.’
Ada gently stroked the baby’s head, wondering if her own mother had got to hold her just once on the day that she was born, and whether she had looked at her the way Miriam was looking at her baby now. She felt sadness creeping in, as she always did when she thought of Maggie.
‘What will you do now? Will you stay here?’ she said, leaning away from the mother and baby. ‘Is there anywhere a bit safer that you could go?’
‘Oh yes, I’m leaving as soon as I’ve got the strength. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I came out here to be with my man and it will be hard to leave, but now that this little one is here, well, I need to do what’s best for her. So, yes, I’ll be heading back to Scutari just as soon as I can. I never thought I would want to go back there though, what a terrible place it was for us army wives when we first arrived. I mean, they ordered us to stay there but they didn’t provide us with any accommodation. The only space we had was a filthy basement and it was soon full of women and children who were sick and dying. There
was no proper food and not much water. No hope.’
Miriam stopped for a moment and lowered her head.
‘It must have been terrible,’ said Ada, not able to believe that the British Army would have treated their own women so badly.
‘If I hadn’t left when I did, me and this one here, we’d both have been dead. We had the money to secure a passage up to Balaklava, but most of the women, they were spending all their money on drink, trying to blot things out. They were living like animals.’
‘So why do you think you’re better off back there?’ said Ada anxiously.
‘Well, I wouldn’t even have considered it before, but I’ve been told that there’s some English lady in Scutari now who’s set up a home for army wives and they’ve got a clean place to live with food and clothes and even a school for the children.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘As sure as I can be when it comes to the British Army,’ said Miriam. ‘And don’t you worry, I’ll make sure that I do the best for this little one now.’
‘I know you will,’ said Ada, stroking the baby’s head again. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Anything for you,’ said Miriam, sensing that Ada was troubled.
‘Well, it’s just that I’ve come out here to look for someone, to look for my brother. Do you know if there’ve been any new men in the camp in the last couple of months?’
‘None that I know of. And we all know everything there is to know about what’s going on. That’s what it’s like here.’ Seeing the disappointment on Ada’s face, Miriam continued, ‘But he might be in Scutari? Which regiment is he in?’
‘I don’t even think he’s in the army.’
‘Right,’ said Miriam. ‘Well, that makes it more difficult then. I mean, it’s chaos out here with people coming and going. But we definitely haven’t had anybody new here in camp for ages.’
And then, as she sat in that tent with Miriam and the baby, it was as if something clicked inside her and she almost knew in that moment that Frank wasn’t here in the Crimea. She had come prepared to turn over every boulder to find him if need be, but she knew it wasn’t as simple as that and she felt it, she felt it in her bones that he wasn’t even here.
‘Are you all right, Ada?’ asked Miriam, gently putting a hand on her arm.
‘Yes, yes, I’m fine,’ she said, trying to smile as that leaden feeling settled again inside her.
Then with one last stroke of the baby’s head she roused herself. ‘Well, I could sit here all day with you and Alma but I really need to get going.’
‘I know,’ said Miriam. ‘Now don’t you worry about us two; we’ll be gone from here as soon as we can. I will always remember you, Ada, and we’ll raise a glass to wish you well every year on this one’s birthday.’
Stepping outside the tent into full sun and trying to adjust her eyes, Ada was startled by a tall, wiry figure advancing towards her down the line of tents. It was Dr Lampeter, stamping mad and shouting, ‘Where the blazes have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere! We need to get back to Balaklava.’
Ada thought he had a nerve, given that he’d been the one to disappear last night. As he came close she was pleased to note that his face looked pale and his eyes were bloodshot, probably from some over-indulgence with his friend last night.
‘Come along, come along, nurse!’ And then, quickly turning back to her, ‘By the way, you did a fine job with that woman and baby yesterday.’
Ada tried to contain her shock at this hastily flung compliment as she ran after Lampeter, who was moving at speed with his long stride.
As they neared the centre of camp they saw a group of soldiers gathered round two sorry-looking men, their heads hung low, their hands tied. Ada didn’t know if they were captured Russian soldiers, but she felt for them. Lampeter had stopped and was looking at the group, trying to make sense of the situation. An officer spotted him and summoned him over.
‘Hope you don’t mind giving us a bit of your time, doc, but as you know, our doctor is down with a fever, and regulations require us to have a medical man here while we see to these men.’
‘What for? What are you doing?’ asked Lampeter.
‘Oh, they’re to be flogged, for drunken insubordination. We need you to be here in case one of them collapses; don’t want the buggers dying on us.’
Lampeter seemed a little taken aback. ‘So these are our soldiers then, not prisoners captured last night?’
‘That’s right, sir. These fine fellows were too drunk to take up their guns during the night attack. They’re lucky not to be facing a firing squad.’
‘I see,’ said Lampeter.
Ada must have shown her horror because Lampeter nudged her and muttered, ‘Routine procedure, nurse, routine procedure. They need to maintain discipline and these men deserve to be punished.’
However, as the first man’s hands were untied, his shirt ripped off and he was led over to a large cart wheel then lashed to it, she sensed Lampeter’s resolve weaken as he looked away, coughing nervously.
A thick-set soldier then took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, spat on his hands and rubbed them together before picking up a leather whip. A punishment of thirty lashes was ordered for each man and without further delay it began.
Ada felt the impact of the first lash as it bit into the man’s flesh, and saw the man’s face contort, although he made no sound. And at first no mark could be seen across his back. Then the next lash fell, and the next and the next in quick succession, and by this time bright red welts were showing. It went on and on, and with each stroke the man’s body slumped further down on the wheel and he began to make a short grunting noise. By the time they got to the final ten lashes the man’s back was a mess of red stripes and was bleeding freely. How could any civilized nation allow this to happen to a member of its own army? Ada’s head was reeling. Lampeter stood silent and tense.
When they took the man down from the cart wheel, Lampeter was asked to go over and check him. Two soldiers dragged the man to the side and laid him face down on the ground. He was in agony but seemed to have gone beyond being able to show this. He was barely conscious but still breathing. Lampeter looked up and nodded to the officer while one of the army wives liberally applied some kind of greasy salve to the soldier’s ripped and torn skin. The man’s back would forever bear the scars.
The procedure was then repeated for the other man. Ada could not watch. Lampeter stood with clenched jaw and balled fists.
By the time Lampeter and Ada were able to leave they could not speak; moving like machines they retrieved their horse and wagon, anxious to get going. As they moved off Lampeter simply said, ‘My friend at camp has a nest of rats living under his hut.’ Ada looked at him, wondering what he was talking about but sort of understanding why he had said it. She couldn’t think of anything to say in reply.
Then, as if on cue, almost as if they’d paused to allow the floggings to take place, the big guns started up for the day.
The road home was just as rough, just as dusty, and there was just as little conversation between them; but on this return journey Ada felt a certain unity with Dr Lampeter. She sensed there was some common ground between them now and felt easier in his presence. So much so that she had no qualms about lifting up the hem of her skirt to cover her nose and mouth as the dust began to thicken around them. It wasn’t that she was abandoning all consideration of propriety, she was simply missing the red shawl that had served her so well. Even though she’d had no choice but to leave it there with the baby, she couldn’t help but feel a pang at the loss of the only thing that had been her mother’s. She felt sure, though, that Maggie would have been glad of the way that it had been put to good use, swaddling a baby girl born so far away from home. They’d had so little in the tent in the way of blankets or provisions, it had been the best thing she could have done, and it made her feel glad to know that baby Alma would be resting snug in that shawl right now.
After they
’d been on the road for some considerable time, Lampeter told her that they were going to make a bit of a detour to the British Hotel at Kadikoi, where he needed to pick up some supplies. Ada didn’t know what this British Hotel was and she didn’t have the strength to ask or to object.
Within minutes of turning off the main road, a few buildings became visible in the near distance, and with what seemed like renewed energy their horse ploughed a path over to them and pulled up outside what looked like a large shed. Lampeter slipped down from the wagon without looking at her and told her to follow him.
Ada was surprised to find that the interior of the building was lined with shelves of tins and bottles and what seemed like a wealth of provisions. The place had tables and chairs dotted about and some armchairs and an old sofa with the stuffing poking out.
A group of officers sat round one of the tables with their red coats unbuttoned and an open bottle of wine in front of them; talking, laughing and smoking cigars.
They stared over at Ada but she paid them no mind.
Lampeter had gone straight to one of the tables and slumped in a chair. She stood just inside the doorway, exploring this new place with her eyes and fascinated by the collection of full hams and dried meats suspended on ropes from the ceiling.
As she was staring up at this aerial feast, a quiet voice spoke kindly to her in an almost sing-song accent that she had never heard before
‘We have to keep them up there so the rats don’t get to them.’
Looking down, Ada saw the most beautiful young woman. The girl was so lovely that Ada found herself unable to speak. She looked younger than Ada, with soft, light-brown skin and a mass of black hair curling to her shoulders. A certain lightness shone out from the girl’s beautiful dark eyes, and her curved, smiling mouth offered welcome. She had large looped gold through her ears and a red neckerchief tied around her slender neck.