Adventures in the Swamp

31 October …..

Today is All Hallows' Eve but you would never know it out here, as today is just like any other, well at least in the construction area it is, as the rafters on the headquarters building were completed and all of the walls are up on both the hospital and chapel.

Our head cook, a Black Leg sergeant named Marion Louis Thibodeaux III, is of Cajun French descent and hails from Beaumont in San Jacinto Province. Without a doubt, the man knows his way around the kitchen. To make a long story short, last night upon hearing RSM Taggart and I speak of our adventures all thought it was humorous and when the part about the turtle came up, he jumped from his seat with his eyes wide and foaming at the mouth. He started talking rapidly in his French patois, followed by one of his trademark OOOEEEE’s. Everyone just looked at each other as he stormed out of the NCO Mess Tent.

This morning, he and Private Mistrot (mee-stroh) - the only other Cajun in the camp - were not at breakfast. About lunch time, Mistrot comes running into camp and talks to Sergeant Garcia with arms flailing in the air and next thing I know, he is following close behind Garcia as they run up to my position. Sergeant Garcia asks me if he can take Spot out towards the swamp to help Private Mistrot and Sergeant Thibodeaux. It seems that our crazy Cajun cook has got the turtle we saw yesterday cornered (according to Private Mistrot’s ramblings). This got the attention of RSM Taggart, and now we were all interested and had to see for ourselves how a 5’ -9”, 190 lbs. Army cook could have cornered a ten foot long, 900 lbs. Venusian turtle!

We were all on top of Spot, heading toward the swamp, and anxious to see what trouble our cook had gotten himself into. We were sure Mistrot had just got his story backwards, what with his somewhat loose grip on the English language. As we got closer to the spot we saw Sergeant Thibodeaux in a tree and knew that he was in trouble with his enormous turtle. The next thing that happened took us all by surprise, as the crazy Cajun cook jumped from the tree onto the turtle's back and stabbed the turtle in the neck repeatedly with his Bowie bayonet. By the time we got to the turtle, it was dead and Thibodeaux was a mess: exhausted, bloody and with a torn uniform that looked as though he had defeated the Kaiser's whole army by himself. For a while, he just laid on top of the shell staring at the sky. I could not believe how big this turtle was when we got right next to it. RSM Taggart and I were unsure if this was the same turtle, but I am no turtle expert. We eventually got Thibodeaux on his feet and drug the turtle by rope behind Spot all the way back to camp. The thick shell protected the carcass pretty well from the dragging across the jungle floor.

When we entered camp, everyone had to have a look, and were in awe that a turtle could get that big. Sergeant Thibodeaux has his work cut out for him as he has to cut the thing up for cooking, and only a few hours to do that in before the massive carcass starts to go bad in the heat and humidity of the Veiled Planet. I am tired from our adventure and look forward to a day off this Sunday.

[Editors Note: The Bowie Bayonet is a foot long and shaped just like the infamous knife of Colonel James Bowie.]

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.

We few we happy few......

29 October ….

Today is the third day and still no pigeons, or any type of word from our patrol to Camp Trafalgar. We have made great strides as the floor and walls were constructed on the first structures in Fort Humid. The men did not speak much as this was a day of remembrance for our lost comrade. This day we lay to rest our Brother in Arms, Private James Simmons Allen, from Roswell, Santa Fe Province. Father Flannigan gave a speech from Henry V today just before the torch was lit, he talked of St. Crispin and there was not a dry eye in the whole combined force, as both Black Leg and Marine equally gave their respects to our fallen brother.

So this day I will end in short verse as there is still work to be done before I hit the rack.

[OOC] New Arrivals!

Today I got in two of the three packages I have been waiting for with baited breath. In the smaller package were ten Safari, Ltd. Spotted Eagle Rays, better known to my readers here as Golden Whorled Deathrays. So now I just need one or two more to finish off that project. Oh, and painting the riders and casting up about 9 more saddles. Then its just glue it all together, add the straps, and mount on the flying stands. Woohoo! Project finished!

The second package I got today was quite a bit larger. It contains... a 25mm scale aerial gunboat, scratchbuilt by Joseph Dragovich of Pittsburgh, PA. Once I repair the damages from the rough handling while being shipped (USPS), I will take some photos and post them, make official announcment type stuff, etc. I also got five aeronaval crew and an officer. I will need to get a couple of weapons to mount at the wing spots, but those can wait a few weeks.

I am still awaiting a package from the north side of town, an order from Little Wars in Houston. Its just a few small packs of Papal Zouaves and infantry from Freikorps in 15mm. Been almost a week, though, and no contact. I must say I don't like that, though I know they'll get here eventually.

Lastly, there is yet another new project on the boil for Venus, but that will remain under wraps for now. The only thing I will say is... keep an eye on the foliage.

A Day of Sadness

28 October ….

I am saddened as I write this evening, because early this morning Private James Simmons Allen passed away. He remained unconscious since the attack, so we can hope that he did not feel a thing. Father Flannigan, Doc Armstrong and Herbalist Dempsey have tried to work their magic but to no avail. This just shows how dangerous this planet can be as Venusian Malaria can kill in a week and a Bloodeye bite we have just found out can be fatal as well. Services will be Wednesday and the body will be burned per doctrine to rid of any disease that might be fatal to others. In order to honor Private Allen we have renamed the tar pits to the south “The Allen Tar-pits” (since his patrol was near the area when they were attacked).

On the brighter side of things it has been a whole day and then some since the patrol left for Camp Trafalgar; after seeing the flying reptiles again I doubt the pigeons will make it back to our location. They are at least five feet long in the body and fly extremely fast as one buzzed our tower today within thirty feet and it sounded like a hurricane wind after it passed the guard tower.

I am short on words today as we are honoring our dead. I will end here this evening as the Rosary starts in five minutes.

[Editor's Notes: Herbalist is the title given to enlisted men in the Surgeon's Corps who have received some medical training. Their purpose is to assist the doctors and dentists. They can treat minor wounds, set fractures, prescribe some medicines and draw blood, but they are by no means fully trained nurses. Herbalist School is seven months in length and is located at Camp Zavala in Kingsville. A number denotes the individual's rank within the Surgeon's Corps, ranging from 1 (lowest) to 7. They are technical experts outside of the regular chain of command, and are only placed in charge of other Herbalists and stretcher bearers within the Surgeon's Corps.]