Winston Churchwood's Diary
March 5
That Patrichek might be brave but he is a drunken, brutal oaf. He means well I suppose, as he serves his country in his own way. His 'Black Cossacks' or 'Band of Thieves and Robbers' are not the sort you would trust ten minutes near your wife or your supply wagon but you can trust them to cause havoc with their enemies.
Anyway the Hermans need to get a bloody nose. We Redians can't afford to have them dominating the continent. Eventually they will challenge Redian naval supremacy and we had better be ready. The Crussians, whatever our past conflicts, are doing us a favour.
This is such a lovely war! First thing on these lovely crisp morning is the smell of the cossack's camp fires (and the not so lovely smell of their unsanitary latrines). Next the horses are fed and prepared for a hard day's riding. My horse is a splendid grey I have named Harry. My black apparel is the same as my cossack host and I am fully equipped with cossack sword and rifle, but I prefer my Webley pistol.
March 6
Today I participated in an action against some Herman lancers. Fortunately we caught them disorganised but they put up a fight. We rode right through them and back again. I shot one right between the eyes before he could skewer me with his pig sticker.
I was feeling elated from this victory. I turned to the cossack next to me, as he nursed a bloodied arm. 'Did you enjoy that sergeant?'
Of course no one must read this diary for some years, perhaps when i write my memoirs. Otherwise I may never be allowed to work as a war correspondent again.
That Patrichek might be brave but he is a drunken, brutal oaf. He means well I suppose, as he serves his country in his own way. His 'Black Cossacks' or 'Band of Thieves and Robbers' are not the sort you would trust ten minutes near your wife or your supply wagon but you can trust them to cause havoc with their enemies.
Anyway the Hermans need to get a bloody nose. We Redians can't afford to have them dominating the continent. Eventually they will challenge Redian naval supremacy and we had better be ready. The Crussians, whatever our past conflicts, are doing us a favour.
This is such a lovely war! First thing on these lovely crisp morning is the smell of the cossack's camp fires (and the not so lovely smell of their unsanitary latrines). Next the horses are fed and prepared for a hard day's riding. My horse is a splendid grey I have named Harry. My black apparel is the same as my cossack host and I am fully equipped with cossack sword and rifle, but I prefer my Webley pistol.
March 6
Today I participated in an action against some Herman lancers. Fortunately we caught them disorganised but they put up a fight. We rode right through them and back again. I shot one right between the eyes before he could skewer me with his pig sticker.
I was feeling elated from this victory. I turned to the cossack next to me, as he nursed a bloodied arm. 'Did you enjoy that sergeant?'
Of course no one must read this diary for some years, perhaps when i write my memoirs. Otherwise I may never be allowed to work as a war correspondent again.
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