Adventure into the Wilderness

30 October...

Wow, what a day!

My men worked like mules on a mission. The walls of the Headquarters building are now up and two walls are standing at the hospital. Sergeant Garcia and Corporal Cromwell kicked me out of camp, saying I needed to get out and have a look around. They fear I will burn myself out and are only trying to look after me as I do for both of them. Garcia and Cromwell have been with me a good long while, ever since I was a sergeant and they were just no-rank sappers; we met at the Battle of Palmetto Bluff. They were fresh recruits, wet behind the ears, and I was their Squad Leader. We were all nervous as our beach landing was definitely one to remember on that day on a hot Yucatan beach. Sergeant Robert Conner Garcia, from New Glasgow, Sonora Province is married, with two kids. He is of Irish and Mexican descent, the product of Ireland's potato famine and intermarriage with native Catholic Mexicans. Corporal Fredrick James Cromwell is from Creel, Chihuahua Province. He is also married, with three kids, and is of German and English descent. Needless to say, I heeded their words as they kicked me out of camp.

RSM Taggart was kicked out as well by his troops (I suspect a quiet conspiracy amongst the other NCOs), and so we ventured out on Pachysaurs towards the tar pits. The Pachysaurs have their own... unique smell to say the least and their gait feels much different than riding a horse (being they are bipedal creatures). I have to say, they have a good temperament and are definitely protective creatures. We rode around the tar pits and pressed on further south towards the swamps. Many reptiles ran from us and we actually got to see a herd of strange looking beasts: they had one horn, but otherwise were a miniature version of a Triceratops. It was about three feet taller and five feet longer than a Texas longhorn bull. They did not seem to mind us and continued eating plants as we rode past. As we entered the edge of the swamp we also noticed a huge turtle, not unlike a snapping turtle, except for its immense size. We could have made enough turtle soup out of him to feed the whole expedition!

RSM Taggart and I tried to find a good way to the coast, as we are both wondering what the Venusian seas are like. I have heard that the sealife is very large and very aggressive. Sounds to me like a good day's fishing! The coast is only about twenty miles from Fort Humid, but we couldn't reach it before it was time to return to camp. After acting like schoolboys on a lark for the entire day, we headed back to camp and enjoyed a good meal of grillag and potatoes. Some of the Black Legs brought potatoes to plant in the soil as the foothills on which we live reportedly have wonderful soil for potatoes. Not that it matters much, with potatoes.

Well, I am going to make my rounds and check the watches as it is our turn tonight to man the guard towers and internal roving patrols. I will be glad when Lance Corporal Jones finishes the still so we can have some proper ale once again. For some reason Lance Corporal Jones knows exactly how to build the still from memory. I dare not ask what his family’s occupation is. Once he tried to tell me about a story of his father back in the homeland of Wales and some altercation with a magistrate. I will end her and maybe tomorrow a pigeon will head our way.