The sun shone in a clear blue sky as the paddle steamer headed for the open sea. Hanging over the ship’s rail, Carina caught sight of the schooner belonging to the famous author Alexander Dumas. The scene was so colourful it was hard to believe they were on an expedition to war. Boats in the harbour were decked with flags and crews of frigates at anchor shouted jubilantly as the old paddle sounded its horn. Garibaldi had left Palermo, taking his army overland two weeks before, and the campaign that would carry the revolution to Italy was about to begin!
Last night Carina had written to Alice, in haste:
Please forgive a brief letter. You will have heard of Garibaldi’s success in Palermo. Now he plans to cross to the Straits of Messina and lead the Redshirts onto the mainland! He has recruited Jane Parsons and myself as auxiliary nurses and we leave for Messina tomorrow. We are not allowed near the field of battle and in no danger. In case I cannot write again, I will do so as soon we reach Naples …
Passing the headland of the bay, the steamer picked up speed and Carina thought of Ben. On the night of the storm she had been overwhelmed by her love for him. She didn’t care if the servants talked or what they thought. Garibaldi and the revolution had changed everything. The old order had been swept away and this was a new world where everyone was free. Alice and Nonna might not agree, but one day they would understand. She couldn’t worry about them now, not when they were on their way to the front.
Arriving at Garibaldi’s headquarters, Carina had found Jane and another woman with him. The general was eating an orange and wiped his hands on his handkerchief before he introduced her to Jessie Mario, the wife of one of his staff officers.
‘Jessie’s the most important woman in my campaign. She’s a political writer as well a doctor,’ Garibaldi said admiringly, of the broad-shouldered Englishwoman. ‘I’ve asked you here this morning, ladies, to request your assistance. I’m concerned that our ambulance arrangements are inadequate for a sustained military campaign. We have doctors among the Thousand but no nurses.’
‘There are plenty of nurses in Palermo,’ Jessie responded robustly.
‘I’m not talking about Palermo, Jessie. We need medical facilities for the field,’ Garibaldi answered. ‘I came to fight the cause of all Italy and not of Sicily alone. The time has come for us to cross to the mainland.’
They all knew that in going ahead without explicit support from Piedmont, Garibaldi was taking a great risk. The Bourbon army was ready to defend Messina to the last man. Yet hearing him speak and meeting his calm gaze, how could they refuse? As the meeting drew to a close, the general thanked them in turn. They were almost out of the door before he called Carina back.
‘Greta Mazzini tells me you’re a skilled horsewoman and wish to volunteer. If Jessie can spare you, I give you my word you’ll ride with the Redshirts. It will be arranged once we gain the mainland.’
She had been right to put her faith in Greta, Carina thought as they left the palace. Jane, normally so calm, was pink in the face and pressed her hands to her cheeks.
‘To think we will be part of the great campaign!’
‘And you’ll be a second Florence Nightingale, I suppose,’ Carina teased her.
‘Don’t be frivolous. You may prefer gallivanting about on a horse, but I’m happy to follow the example of that eminent lady.’
Since then, life had been such a bustle there hadn’t been time to think or a minute to spare. Under the supervision of Jessie Mario, she and Jane collected medical supplies, rolled bandages and filled bed ticks until everything was ready to be shipped. They visited the hospital to learn first aid and Carina went to bed each night exhausted.
A confrontation between the two armies was expected any time and soon their training and preparation would be put to the test. She had written to Greta, arranging to meet her in Messina, but beneath the brave exterior lay tension and fear. No one knew what the next few days would bring and Carina was as nervous as everyone else. Pray God Garibaldi would defeat the Bourbons and Ben would be unharmed!
It was dusk when the steamer dropped anchor in a bay west of the town of Milazzo and Jane and Carina were taken by mule cart to their lodgings. They drove past fields bordered by plated cactus and as they bumped along the darkening road, Carina plied the driver with questions. He replied with grunts and she persisted until he answered, ‘I don’t know who’s winning and I don’t care.’
The man spat a piece of chewed tobacco on the floor and she could get no more out of him. They had to wait until they reached the village where Jessie Mario was waiting. The wagon drew up at an old farmhouse where she stood in the doorway, holding a lamp as they alighted.
Jessie paid their driver and led them inside. There was soup on the table and she sat down with them.
‘Action commenced at first light. It’s been a bloody battle. Over eight hundred of our men were killed or wounded.’
‘Dear Lord, why so many?’ Carina asked.
‘The Bourbon army is well disciplined and performed with credit. They suffered half as many casualties as we did.’
‘Then there must be a great deal for us to do!’ Jane said briskly. ‘Shall we start tonight or in the morning?’
‘In the morning. We’ve set up a hospital in the Capuchin convent. The wounded will be brought in during the night.’
Jessie showed them to their quarters at the back of the house. The room was spartan, furnished with a couple of chairs and a table on which stood a basin and a pitcher of water. There was a large bed for the two of them and Carina kicked off her shoes. Without a thought for modesty, she stripped off her dress and folded it on a chair, only taking the time to wash her arms and face before she lay down.
When she awoke, Jane was already up and Carina dressed quickly. She could hear cannon fire not far away as she pinned her hair under a starched cap and then went through to the kitchen. After breakfast, Jessie outlined their duties for the day. They were to nurse the most severely wounded and assist the doctors in whatever way needed. She handed them two large white aprons with ties at the neck and waist.
‘Remember all that you’ve learnt. You may be shocked by what you see today and must have stout hearts.’
They made their way to the square and passed by a squadron of Redshirts preparing themselves for combat. Their equipment was battered and there wasn’t an officer among them, but the soldiers waved and one blew Carina a kiss before he gathered up his musket and marched away. The sight of his jaunty swagger made her proud. Jessie needn’t fear they would be faint-hearted, she thought, but when they reached the Capuchin convent, her confidence left her.
Passing through shady cloisters, they came to a refectory where wounded men lay shoulder to shoulder on straw pallets. Two doctors were performing surgery on the ground and the floor was running with blood. The place was filthy and Carina ran back to fetch a mop and bucket. Some of the injured were unconscious while others groaned, clutching wounds where dried blood stuck to their torn uniforms. The dirt and stench of unwashed bodies in the blistering heat, the staring eyes and swollen tongues of the dead made Carina want to vomit. Then a hand touched her apron and she looked down to see a young soldier with blood frothing on his lips. He was mouthing soundlessly and she dropped to her knees.
‘Drink please …’
‘Yes. I will bring you water.’
She was already on her feet when Jessie stopped her, telling her she must go and help the doctor in her place.
‘But this man is dying!’
‘Then we will need his place for others. You will work with Dr Bernadotti.’
Carina was thankful that Jessie gave her no choice. How else could she have endured the horror of that day? Swarms of flies crawled over open wounds and the smell of gangrene nauseated her. No amount of training could have prepared her for the shattered bodies and faces burnt black by gunpowder. If only she could block her ears to the screams and shut her eyes as the scalpel cut into putrid flesh.
The only way to carry on was to concentrate on the task in hand. Carina cut thread, forcing it through the needle eye, and tore strips of cloth for tourniquets. With a basin of water, she took the doctor’s instruments, wiped them and handed them back. As soon as one patient was attended to, surgery was performed on the next. There was no quinine and only a limited amount of iodine. Chloroform was kept for the worst cases and cheap brandy the main antidote for pain. She poured it down the throats of young men who gagged and choked. Carina held them still, trying not to look, until the doctor finished stitching up and moved on. They must have performed more than twenty operations before Dr Bernadotti took his bag of instruments from her.
‘I visit the field this afternoon and will need you again this evening. Take some time in the fresh air. You must keep up your strength.’
The doctor shuffled off with the gait of an old man. Carina was exhausted but she could see Jessie cradling the head of a solider in her lap as she removed shrapnel from his neck. She could not rest while Jessie and Jane worked on. When Jane came to find her, the three women went outside. Too tired to speak, they sat sipping tea and nibbling sweet cakes brought by the monks. Dr Bernadotti returned and stirred plenty of sugar into his coffee before he drank it and put the tin cup on the ground.
‘They’re bringing in more casualties this evening. We don’t have enough doctors to perform surgery. You’re a trained doctor, Mrs Mario. You will deal with the gunshot wounds. Miss Parsons will help you and Miss Temple will continue as my assistant.’
So the endless process of cutting and patching up began again and all the time more casualties were coming in. For those they saved, twice as many died. Orderlies with grim faces wrapped still-warm corpses in sackcloth and carried them away. There was no time to change mattresses or to provide clean straw, no time for kindness or consolation. The living, dying and dead followed each other in a morbid procession until, close upon midnight, Dr Bernadotti declared they must stop until morning.
Carina walked home with Jessie and Jane and they ate in silence. Warmed by soup and bread, they took turns to wash before they fell into bed. Carina awoke early and, afraid she might lose her nerve, set off ahead of the others. She arrived at the convent to find Dr Bernadotti already at work. He told her to clean his surgical instruments, so she sat on a stool with a bucket of water, scraping off particles of skin and clotted blood. When would this nightmare end? What good was the agony of surgery when bodies were carried off with such depressing frequency? There were only ten nurses among a hundred patients and, despite endlessly scrubbing floors and boiling bandages, death became commonplace.
Conscious only of the misery around her, Carina hadn’t noticed it was getting dark when Jane came running to find her.
‘Dottore, I must speak to Carina. Can you spare her, please?’
Carina was fixing a tourniquet and Dr Bernadotti did not answer. Hearing the urgency in Jane’s voice, she stood up and wiped her hands on her apron. Jane’s face was ashen and deadly fear went through her heart.
‘What is it, Jane? What’s happened?’
‘Come outside with me.’ Jane took hold of her hand. ‘You must be brave, dear. We’ve just learned Enrico Fola was killed in yesterday’s action.’
Carina stared dumbly at Jane. Enrico had been killed! No, it couldn’t be true! Not Enrico. Oh God, poor Gabriella! She wanted to howl like an animal but Jane’s grasp tightened, forcing her to listen.
‘Jessie has sent for you. She needs you immediately.’
‘Tell Jessie I’ll come later!’ Carina’s self-control snapped. ‘You’re the one meant to be helping her, aren’t you?’
Her eyes were half-blinded with tears, but she saw the distinctive jerk of Jane’s chin.
‘Colonel Mavrone has been brought in. He’s critically wounded. Jessie wants you to attend him.’
Carina was too shocked to understand and Jane went on rapidly. ‘He’s in a coma. I told Jessie you’re his friend. They hope Colonel Mavrone might respond to a familiar voice. She wants you to talk to him.’
Her brain swirled with panic. Enrico was dead and Ben was critically injured. He was here in the hospital! Her knees were shaking and Jane held her arm as she led her towards the cloisters. The monks had evacuated their cells to provide more space and Jessie was talking to a young doctor at the far end. They looked so serious Carina stopped, heedless of Jane tugging at her sleeve, until Jessie walked back and dismissed her with a nod of her head.
‘Colonel Mavrone has been unconscious since this morning. We hope it’s bruising and not bleeding in the brain. Talk to him and try to make him respond. Stay with him until I come back.’
Jessie took her to the cell where half a dozen men lay next to one another on the floor. Carina was aware of the doctor’s hand on her shoulder and he indicated a figure nearest the wall. Lifting her skirt, she climbed over the bodies crammed into the small space, and knelt down beside Ben. He lay on his back, with his jacket rolled up under his head, and blood seeped from a bandage below his hairline. His eyes were shut and his breathing so light she put her ear to his mouth. When she spoke his name, there was no reaction. Searching in her pocket for a clean handkerchief, Carina found water and squeezed it into his mouth. The liquid trickled down the side of his jaw and she put her finger between his lips. They were cold and she held his wrist and took his pulse. The rhythm was faint, but she could feel it. Ben was alive.
‘It’s me, Carina,’ she whispered. ‘I’m here to take care of you.’
A soldier lying close by called for his mother but Carina was powerless to help him. All her attention was on Ben. She kissed his forehead and tasted blood on her lips.
‘Wake up, my darling. I’m with you now. Please open your eyes.’
Not a muscle in Ben’s face moved as she crouched beside him and Carina lost track of time. It could have been minutes or hours later when she heard footsteps stop outside the cell. Turning her head, she saw two orderlies standing in the doorway holding a sackcloth shroud.
‘There’s no one for you in here,’ she hissed at them.
‘But we were told—’
They came forward and bent over the man lying next to Ben. To her mortal shame, Carina realised they had come for the young soldier who had called for his mother. She had shown him no kindness and there was none for him now. With rough efficiency, the men pulled off his boots and dumped him in the sacking. Then they slung his weight between them and carried him out.
‘I won’t let them take you, Ben. I swear they won’t have you. Please, darling. You must wake up!’
Still there was no response and Doctor Calvi came into the cell with two stretcher-bearers. There was scarcely room to move, but they laid another wounded soldier down on the straw pallet. He, too, was the son, brother or husband of someone who loved him. He too would die alone with no one to comfort him or say a prayer – but not Ben! She would stay with him until he opened his eyes and his heartbeat was steady.
Carina watched anxiously as the doctor lifted Ben’s wrist and placed a hand over his mouth.
‘Did he respond in any way?’
‘Yes. I’m sure he did.’
‘Dr Bernadotti asked me to find you.’
‘I can’t leave. Colonel Mavrone recognised me …’
Her voice trailed off as the doctor took her arm and helped her to her feet.
‘You can come back later. Nothing will change in the next hour.’
Doctor Calvi tried to reassure her, but he was taking her away from Ben. Looking back from the door, Carina saw his eyes were still closed and when they came to the cloisters, Jessie told her to sit down. Too worn out to protest, she sat on the ground and Jessie went to fetch her coffee, returning with a Garibaldini officer.
‘The women are exhausted, dottore. Is there no one else?’
‘We’ll stay for one more hour,’ Jessie answered. ‘Then we’ll go home.’
‘If my wife’s mind is made up, I’ll not sway her,’ Alberto Mario conceded. ‘How is Colonel Mavrone? The general sent me to find out.’
‘It depends on what happens in the night. He will either regain consciousness or his brain will cease to function.’
‘He knew me!’ Carina lied and came so swiftly to her feet the little group stared at her. ‘I must go back to him at once.’
‘Dr Bernadotti needs you.’
‘Someone else can assist the doctor! I’m the only one who can help Colonel Mavrone.’
‘His survival depends on the will of God.’ Jessie’s retort was like a glancing blow. ‘Please report to Dr Bernadotti immediately and take him some coffee.’
She didn’t believe in the will of God! How could a merciful God permit the obscenity of this place? Blasphemous words sprang to her lips and Carina bit them back, her eyes angry and defiant.
‘You can stay with Colonel Mavrone all night, if you wish.’ Jessie’s tone softened. ‘I’m only asking for an hour of your time.’
A mug of coffee was thrust into her hand and Carina made her way to the refectory and put the coffee down beside Dr Bernadotti. She was clumsy and dropped an ice bladder pressed to an amputated arm to freeze the severed nerves.
‘Merda, woman!’ The doctor swore under his breath. ‘Are you too weak to do the job properly?’
‘I’m sorry …’ From then on, Carina’s hands were steady. She fetched fresh swabs as Dr Bernadotti stitched the wound of a boy no more than twelve years old. He clung to Carina, crying in her arms until he fell asleep and she held his head on her lap.
‘Let no one say Sicilians lack courage.’ The doctor leant over her shoulder. ‘I’ve seen greater bravery here today than on any battlefield.’
‘Let no one say Sicilians lack courage.’ Carina repeated his words as she walked back to the cell where Ben was waiting. She wasn’t sure she believed in God, but she prayed all the same. ‘Don’t let him die. Please, God, let Ben live. Please save his life,’ she whispered as she peered into each cell, her footsteps resounding on the stone floor until she came across a young nurse.
‘Have you seen Doctor Calvi?’
‘He was here not long ago.’
‘The officer in the end room? What news of him?’
‘The orderlies collected a body not long ago.’
The girl had made a mistake! How could she know which cell the orderlies had visited? If someone had been taken away, it wasn’t Ben. I’ll see him when I look in. He will be there … Carina ran down the corridor and stopped at the last cell, her fingers clutching the rough wood of the doorframe. She waited until her eyes became accustomed to the dim light and then looked inside.
Every part of the floor was occupied and she let out a breath of relief. Unhooking the lamp, she climbed over the bodies and fixed it on a nail in the wall above where Ben lay. Nothing appeared to have changed, but something was wrong. Carina sensed it at once and instinct, stronger than fear, impelled her to look down. Where Ben had lain, a soldier with a shattered arm was stretched out with a knapsack under his head. She heard a cough behind her and cast a terrified glance towards the passage. Dr Calvi stood in the doorway and his expression told her what she already knew. In her absence, Ben had been taken from her and this man, one of the last casualties of the battle of Milazzo, had been given his place.