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Hannah felt no loyalty to the occupying regime. She only joined the army to protect her husband and children from retaliation. As an infantry nurse, she did her best to help save as many lives as she could. What flag they bled under made little difference to her.
It was foolish, but when the opportunity presented itself, she ran, having come to believe that she may never return home to her family if she stayed on the battlefield. However, the reconnaissance patrols were further out than she realized, and she was caught within a day.
The punishment for desertion was non-negotiable: 100 lashes, administered before the whole regiment. Neither her position in the medical unit nor her sex would spare her. After a swift court martial and three nights imprisoned in the barracks, she found herself marching barefoot across the fort, facing the whipping post.
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The female sergeant assigned to administer punishment (female offenders were always whipped by a woman) stretched, and cracked the brutal lash in the air as Hannah was bound to the post and her back was laid bare. Hannah gripped the restraints and closed her eyes, resting her forehead against the weathered timber. It was likely that she would have never suffered as much pain as this. 100 lashes had been known to kill. But she was determined to make it through. She fixated on the image of her children in her mind as the first stroke split the skin across her shoulders.
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Hannah winced, whimpered and grunted her way through the flogging, resisting the urge to scream like a wounded animal as the whip stripped the skin from her back stripe by stripe. She pressed her body against the post, drenched in sweat, her breath coming heavy and ragged, spittle beading on her lower lip. It was true torture. She was grateful her family weren't there to see her like this. She would make it through for them. She
would see them again.