Flowers, Swords and France

In this field hospital located in the rear, Fran looked at everything around with lingering fear. There were wailing and cursing sounds all the time, and there were bloodstains everywhere. In some places, there were even cut limbs and bone fragments. Here, human beings seemed to no longer be human beings, but some kind of objects that could be trimmed and cut. There was no mercy here, only silent bloody scenes.

The air around was filled with strong and pungent smells of medicine and blood. In such an environment, it was difficult for people to stay awake. Most of the wounded soldiers lying on the bed were covered in blood. However, due to the shortage of doctors, apart from the most basic hemostasis treatment, they seemed to have been forgotten. In the severe pain, some people were shouting and cursing for doctors to save themselves, while others had already revealed a look of resignation.

In such an environment, people are easily confused and doubt why God created such a place.

Breathing such filthy air and listening to such noisy sounds, Fran's mind was a little dizzy, and her steps were almost a little unstable.

"Miss, are you okay?" A middle-aged woman wearing the same white clothes hurried to her side and looked at her anxiously.

Most of the nurses here are volunteers recruited by Fran, but this woman is not. She is a maid who has followed the Marquis of Treville's family for many years. This time she came with the young lady.

Because she has stayed at home for many years, Fran has grown up with her since she was a child, and the emotional bond is deep, so she has always been very reluctant for Fran to take risks and come to this place to be a volunteer. She is afraid that this young lady who has never suffered since childhood will be stimulated in such a terrible environment and leave a shadow for her whole life.

"I... I'm fine." In her concerned cry, Fran finally came back to her senses, and then she shook her head gently, "Don't worry about me."

"How can you say it's okay?" The woman looked at Fran with some heartache.

Indeed, Fran's condition is definitely not good now. The hem of her originally white gauze skirt is now stained with black blood, and there are some yellow-brown and black-purple stains left by the liquid medicine. Her hair, which was always carefully combed, is now a little messy, and even her eyes have a little bloodshot, which is the trace of shuttling in the blood and the fatigue of the body.

"Okay, do your thing, I'll go get some water for the wounded." Fran picked up the kettle next to her and prepared to leave.

"You should go and rest... How can you do such a thing?" The woman walked over distressedly and wanted to take the kettle from her hand. "Let us do all these things..."

"If it's really for rest, why did I come here? I'm not here to travel!" Fran frowned unhappily, holding her water bottle tightly, "Also, there are so many people suffering here, much worse than me, please focus on me, don't pay attention to me anymore, thank you!"

"Miss..." The woman was stunned, and didn't seem to understand why she suddenly got so angry.

"I'm sorry... I'm just a little anxious." Fran knew that she had said too much, so she lowered her head to apologize to her, "Everything here makes people feel bad. Okay, you don't have to worry about me anymore, let's go do our own things."

"Hey... Hey..." The woman nodded, and then couldn't help sighing, "All this is really terrible, but why do men always enjoy it?!"

"Sometimes they don't have many choices." Fran replied in a low voice, then turned around and left with the water bottle.

Amidst the noise, she left the vestibule and the surgery site and came to the backyard, where the wounded who had undergone surgery and the seriously ill patients recuperated.

The wounded here had become lifeless either because of the anesthetic or because of the severe pain. The atmosphere was very different from the noisy front, but even more terrifying.

And this was where the nurses mainly worked. After all, they didn't know much about medical skills. Taking care of the wounded who had been treated so that they could recover as soon as possible was their main job.

Fran walked into the room in the backyard with a kettle. Wherever she passed, doctors and nurses paid tribute to her. Their respect was not only because she was the big moneymaker who organized this operation, but also because this woman with a superior family background was so approachable and hardworking. In the eyes of these people, she was almost the embodiment of all the kindness in the world.

While greeting these people, she quickly walked to a bed.

The person lying on the bed was a young man who looked to be in his early twenties. He had a sparse brown beard on his lips and a pretty face. He looked more like a college student than a soldier.

However, his current condition was not very good. His skin was sallow and had an unhealthy paleness. His lips were scorched and cracked. His body was terribly thin, so his eye sockets were protruding. His hair was like dry grass. There was a really pungent smell around him.

He was not seriously injured. He was sent here because he was infected with severe cholera after arriving in Crimea. Because of the dehydration caused by severe diarrhea and vomiting, his originally strong body became extremely thin, and in severe cases, he almost lost the ability to move. His whole body was full of foul smell.

Only after being sent here did he receive a decent treatment and finally suppressed his illness, but his physical condition was still very bad and he still needed to fight the pain.

"Ah, you are here!" When he saw Fran come in, the young man who was lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling suddenly smiled, "Beautiful lady."

These days, because he received treatment here, he has met many doctors and nurses, and of course he was very impressed by the most beautiful lady among them. However, he naturally didn't know that this lady was the granddaughter of the commander-in-chief, Marshal Treville, otherwise he would never dare to speak to her in such a tone.

"Yes, I'm here to bring you water." Fran walked up and put the kettle to his mouth, "Your body is still very weak, please don't move."

"Thank you!" The young man whispered his thanks, and then gulped down the water. The sweet water moistened his throat and stomach, and seemed to bring him endless energy and refresh him. "You are so kind... You are just like an angel. Really, I wish I could meet a beautiful and kind angel like you earlier in my life..."

"If you use this little energy to rest instead of complimenting me, it will be better for your health." Fran replied calmly.

She was happy to hear such words at first, but she had been complimented by the wounded soldiers for a long time and had long been indifferent.

"Hey, you want a Frenchman not to praise beauty, that's impossible!" The young man replied with a smile, and then suddenly coughed violently again.

"Okay, stop talking!" Fran couldn't help but hold his chest, "You can only have the opportunity to continue praising others if you save your life and return to France."

"Are you implying that I can see you again after returning to France?" The young man didn't, but asked back with expectation.

Fran frowned and didn't answer. She didn't like others talking to her in such a frivolous manner.

"Oh, that's right... How is it possible?" The young man smiled bitterly. "Angels like you should be well cared for and have the best life. People like me will only spoil others' fun and bad luck. It's better not to see them..."

"Okay, don't say that." Fran couldn't help but comfort him when she saw him like this.

"I'm just an unlucky guy. I drew an unlucky number, and my family didn't have the money to find me a replacement for the unlucky guy, so I had to join the army... I even got an infectious disease when I got here, and I fell down before I even got on the battlefield." The young man smiled slightly, trying to make his tone less sad. "You see, people like me are unlucky enough."

According to the French pioneering system, when the government decides to recruit soldiers in a certain place, the men of the right age in the local household register will be called up, and then a lottery will be used to decide who will serve. The lottery will have numbers, from number one to the last number, and the numbers in the front row will be recruited, so it becomes a competition of luck.

Of course, the children of rich families don't have to compete with the poor for luck. Even if they draw the unlucky number in front, they can spend money to find someone to serve in the army instead. Some poor people who have no means of living go to the army to fight in this way.

"The last point is not particularly unlucky... at least you avoided a war." Fran replied in a low voice.

"What? The war has started?" The young man opened his eyes wide in astonishment.

"Yes, the fighting was very fierce these two days." Fran nodded, "The wounded have been sent here all the time, and there are many injured people."

"My comrades... God, I was not there when they were fighting, how can I be worthy of them?" The young man suddenly sat up anxiously, "Oh my God, how are they?"

"I don't know... But maybe I can ask for you later. As long as your unit has participated in the battle, then they can't come here without any injuries." Fran replied in a low voice, "Maybe someone will become a war hero."

"I... I don't want to be a hero, nor do I want a medal. I'm just a soldier. I just want to go home... I miss my hometown and my mother." The young man suddenly cried, "I want to eat the bread at home, I don't want to die in vain in this place thousands of miles away from France, I don't want to die ...Look, I'm a coward, right?"

"No, you're not a coward, your thoughts are normal." Fran quickly held him down, let him lie down again, and then comforted him softly, while gently stroking his forehead, "Now, what you need is rest."

"Well, I can feel that I'm recovering slowly now, and I'll be able to return to them soon... I want to fight side by side with them... I'll go through life and death with them." The young man closed his eyes obediently, and then murmured to himself, "God, it's great to meet an angel like you, how can I be a coward and shame you and let your efforts go to waste? I will fight bravely... For France, for you..."

As the slender fingers gently caressed him, the still somewhat exhausted young man finally calmed down completely, and then fell into a deep sleep.

France stood by the bed, quietly looking at his sleeping face.

The original text is available at Six # 9 @Book/Bar!

She has seen a lot of young people like this recently. They are both afraid and longing for the flames of war. Although they are afraid of death, afraid of being injured, and want to escape from the battlefield, they are also afraid of letting down their comrades, afraid of being laughed at by the world, and afraid of violating their obligation to "serve the country."

She knows even more that even with such contradictions and entanglements, he will eventually go to the battlefield and become a screw in the huge military machine. Most young people go to the battlefield with such a mood of gain and loss, and a large number of them may never return to their hometowns.

Why are these young people so naive? Each one is like a moth flying into the fire. She couldn't help thinking.

At first, she just wanted to establish her own reputation and let people know how compassionate Miss Treville is, but after staying here for a long time, she seemed to have seen all kinds of human conditions, and seemed to have some sympathy for these young soldiers.

At this moment, a young medical student suddenly ran into the backyard in a panic, and then shouted loudly to the wounded and sick and the doctors and nurses inside.

"The commander-in-chief is here to inspect!"

After the initial surprise, Fran immediately put down her thoughts, put down the kettles in her hands, and walked out to the yard.

Marshal Treville, surrounded by his followers, came to the hospital to comfort the wounded. When they saw the majestic commander-in-chief, almost all the French officers and soldiers who were still able to move were full of eagerness. Many of them struggled to stand up from the hospital bed and saluted the prestigious marshal.

The marshal smiled, comforted their injuries and encouraged them kindly, and told them some jokes from time to time, and his own experiences when fighting in various places, which made the people around laugh, and the atmosphere suddenly became much more cheerful.

After chatting with the wounded outside for a while, the marshal walked into the backyard, and at this time, Fran finally had the opportunity to walk next to him.

"Grandpa, you have worked hard." Fran saluted him.

The marshal looked at his granddaughter carefully, saw the dense dirt on her clothes, and then sighed.

"You did a good job, better than I expected."

Is this a compliment?

Fran thought she would be very excited, but when she really heard it, her heart was at a loss, and she blankly scanned everything around her.

Did I really do well?

"What's wrong?" Seeing that her attitude was a little abnormal, the old marshal asked hurriedly.

"Sorry... Grandpa, I really can't be happy." Fran shook her head, "Do you know how many people we watched die?"

This question was indeed a bit sharp, and the old marshal heard the hidden meaning in it even more. His granddaughter was secretly blaming herself.

"I don't know the exact number, but it must not be more than me." The old man answered calmly, "Just yesterday, Marshal Raglan and I personally sent tens of thousands of people to the battlefield, and I watched thousands of people fall in front of me."

"Then... don't you feel uneasy?" Fran couldn't help asking back.

But soon, she smiled bitterly.

Yes, how could she be uneasy? If she had a compassionate heart, she would not be able to be the commander of an army.

"Child, when the Empire handed this army to me, I could no longer be compassionate, because when I was merciful, more people would die." The old man answered as she thought. "They are the fuel necessary for victory, that's all."

At this time, it was the last remnant of dusk, the golden red sun was burning in the sky, the fiery red clouds covered the sky like scales, and the red light was like a layer of blood on the earth.

The shadows of the grandfather and grandson standing in the courtyard were also stretched longer and longer.

"Except for the simplest bandage to stop bleeding, I forbid you to waste other resources and time to treat the Russian wounded sent here." After a moment of silence, the old man continued to give orders, "Our resources are limited, and the transportation capacity is insufficient. We should save precious resources."

"Yes." Fran nodded.

She has woken up.