The Chef at War by Alexis Soyer

Author:Alexis Soyer [Soyer, Alexis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780241950920
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2011-03-18T16:00:00+00:00

My Great Field Day

My gallant master of the ceremonies, Colonel Seymour, had kindly taken the most important part of my duty off my hands, by inviting all the heads of the military and medical authorities, with a great number of whom, in consequence of my short stay in the Crimea, I was not yet, or, at least, only partially acquainted. I had now removed to the Edward, and also left her, but still kept, if not a pied à terre (as we say in French), at least a pied sur mer, for myself and people, in case I should require to go to Balaklava and stay there for the night.

This was on the 26th of August, 1855 – the 27th was to be the opening day. All my people had left for the camp, with arms and baggage. I was certain of success and without the slightest anxiety. On arriving at my field of operations, I learnt, to my deep sorrow, that my right hand, Colonel Seymour, had, during the night, been dangerously wounded in the trenches. I immediately went to his quarters to ascertain the nature of his wound. His servant told me, that for the present no one could tell; he had been struck by the splinter of a shell at the back of the neck, the wound was not so bad as had been at first anticipated. His servant announced me, and although very weak, the colonel begged I would enter his tent. He was lying upon the ground upon a blanket, covered with another, and his military cloak over that. His head was bandaged with a turban of white linen stained with blood. His first words were, ‘Monsieur Soyer, you see what has happened at last. I much regret it, as I shall not be able to perform my promise to you respecting your opening.’

‘Never mind, colonel; don’t let us talk about that subject now, but about yourself.’

‘Well,’ he replied, ‘the doctor has just been, and says that the wound is not mortal, nor even so dangerous as he at first anticipated.’

‘Colonel, you want repose, so I will retire.’

‘There is no occasion for that, Monsieur Soyer; I feel strong again. When I was struck, I did not feel the wound, and fell immediately, remaining for some time insensible, the wound, as the doctor says, having acted upon the brain.’

‘Don’t exert yourself, my dear colonel, by talking. Thank God it is no worse. I will go and send you some lemonade. I have asked the doctor what was best for you, and am happy to say I have some ice.’

‘Many thanks for your kind attention, Monsieur Soyer.’

I then retired. Upon reaching my kitchen, I found that no one had yet arrived. The four carpenters had left me in the lurch, having run away in the night, and abandoned their work, after stealing all they could from the tents. Mr. Doyne, the chief of the Army Works Corps, kindly supplied me with workmen, and offered to lend me, for a few days, as many tents as I required.

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