of the boys here are from Lyon and Toulon. Two days ago more French landed with the English on the European coast, while our regiment set about taking Koum Kaleh, and they say a quarter of our men are down. It has been difficult to make a hospital on a boat in which thousands of men have been crowded for weeks, let alone in the middle of battle. Nearly all the cabins for the wounded were still occupied by soldiers at the height of it, so I spent the afternoon dragging saddles and mailbags into one of the kitchens and replacing them with sterilised sacks and bandages and drugs.
From twilight until dawn the convoys of wounded followed one after another and we spent those hours working constantly. I was in the children’s playroom of the ship where we have some big tables—I’m meant to be a junior but all the ranking gets forgotten once you’re in it. The first casualty was a Senegalese—he lay unconscious on a raft. One bullet had gone through his ear, another two through the abdomen. He died at noon without waking up. Then a master corporal came back with his chest shattered by shrapnel, and for a moment I saw his naked heart, still beating. This is the fastest I have learned anything, Jeannette, honestly it makes a mockery of old Dean Rivaut’s “observation and inference” at the Faculty.
The sight of the Dardanelles these last two days and nights has been unimaginable. You can see a mass of dead on the Koum Kaleh shore. On the European side Krithia is burning. Before Yeni Sher there are ships everywhere—battleships, cruisers, torpedoes, dredgers—a whole fleet surrounds the peninsula—and on the Pioche men are sleeping in every corner. This morning the smoke from the cannon is mixing with the dawn mist and the whole thing seethes and smoulders.
All yesterday the Gallipoli Peninsula seemed to be on fire—the castle of Sedd-el-Bahr was burning. The Australians joined us and fired on the Asiatic coast directly on Koum Kaleh, and sent up cascades of fumes and dust and flames. When the soldiers were waiting in the dining-saloon, someone got hold of a gramophone and played it as though it was the end of the world while the Charlemagne shelled Besika Bay. Since then our warships have been firing unceasingly. We’re an auxiliary but even so we saw a shell fall just in front of us today, and a second sent up a jet of water in the same place, and then a swarm of other shells came soaring above our heads. Since then we’ve been hit a number of times, and with our very thin plating a single shell does a great deal of harm, so there’s always more work to keep the place in order.
By 12 o’clock Yeni Sher was destroyed. The Pioche directed her guns on Intepe and we all got up on deck to watch. Firing continued all through the night and the ship trembled. In the morning the corpses were heaped before us along the front for a stretch of about three hundred metres.
Enough. It feels good to have written after so much seeing, though I hope it is not upsetting to read. I hope Midhat is well, and enjoying his classes at the Faculty. It is very peculiar to think about that now. I still keep time by his watch, though it is necessary to hide the Turkish numerals from the other soldiers. When this battle is over I will be released on furlough, which they say could be next week, or next month. Either way, I look forward to seeing both of you.
With love and affection,
Laurent.
“He’s coming back.”
“The battle ended on Friday. We haven’t heard from Xavier …” She turned over the envelope.
“Did you love Laurent?” he said, forcefully.
“Excuse me?”
“Laurent said he loved you.”
Jeannette stared at him. “When did he tell you that?”
Blood hooted in Midhat’s ear. He looked down at his shoes. “It was at the party.”
“Midhat.” She expelled a throaty syllable of breath. “I—I’m not sure what I should say.” She held out a hand for the letter. Her face had fallen. She looked distraught.
“Jeannette, please, I’m sorry.”
She left him on the lawn. Her skirts folded and unfolded as she climbed the steps.
Over dinner, she did not meet Midhat’s eye. The following day after breakfast he waited on the terrace, but she did not come. He left for the Faculty without his umbrella and, as luck would have it, within a few minutes