Please accept my apologies for stopping the telling of my story when I was only halfway through. Though I was not finished and had promised myself that I would not start the re-write until I was done I was not satisfied with what I had written and needed to do better. So, without further ado, here is the opening to “Tomorrow, we shall all die.”

I have ridden for sixty-three straight days and tomorrow at dawn, I shall make it sixty-four. There will not be a sixty-fifth. The horse I am currently riding once belonged to a General. He is a fine animal and has deigned to let me, a mere captain, ride him now. Though I do not expect him to, I hope he survives tomorrow and lives the rest of his days in freedom here in the plains. I have had three horses shot from under me, and have myself shot two out of pity. I have seen men die in a thousand horrible ways and I myself have been the cause of more than my share. At night when I sleep, I see their faces, each one in the moment before their life is erased by ball and saber and lance or on several occasions of late my own bare hands. Once I commanded a hundred of the finest light cavalrymen in the Army of the Republic. Once I was the father of a son and the husband of a beautiful wife who were the light of my life and the joy of my heart. Once we farmed my family’s land and grew the finest barley and wheat this side of the capital. Once, but not now. Now I am the chief of a ragged band, father to grimy, tired, and desperate men. Tomorrow we will all die and if we are lucky we will be buried in this empty plain and only the grass will remember our passing.

I hope this makes for a better story and a more enjoyable reading experience. Thanks for hanging in there and I promise to have new updated content coming along shortly.

~H

I understand why it is so hard for us to follow Jesus’ rather no-brainer requests to ask, seek, and knock. In Matthew 7 he tells his audience:

Ask, and it will be given to you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.

This appears to be rather simple, why on earth would we not ask, seek, and knock with the promise of response so blatantly spelled out? It hit me today that these can be difficult things because the one who asks must first admit their ignorance. The one who seeks must admit that they do not have. The one who knocks must admit that they are outside. We want to know, to have, to be accepted so much that we dare not admit to ourselves and others our own lack. Our pride turns us away from the very source of all things so we remain in want.

God give us grace to admit our emptiness and to seek his fulfillment.

Whatever happens, I am sure that it will happen tomorrow or the day after and no later. We have struck camp and the entire army is once again on the march. We are headed west to seek out and destroy utterly the invader as long as they remain in our territory. The near annihilation of the Rangers has moved the General staff to seek out engagement. It seems that they are afraid of losing their army one piece at a time and have now resolved either to destroy our foe or to lose the army all at once.

When they marched out from Fort Samuelson the four companies of the Rangers numbered tw0-hundred and fifty each. We still do not know exactly what happened to them two days ago, but there are now only about one hundred left and most of those have been wounded too badly to keep fighting and have been sent back to Fort Samuelson to convalesce. Those capable of carrying on the fight have been scattered throughout the other light cavalry units of the army. Corporal Williams and Sergeant Solomon formerly of the Forrest company are now the newest additions to my troop. They are good men though they hold themselves apart from the rest of the troop and do not speak at all about the events of the previous days. We have issued them a full kit of 5th Cavalry tack for their horses and a set of fresh navy blue uniforms from our stores, but they have insisted on keeping the faded greens they wore as Rangers.

I feel great pity for these men as they very visibly bear the burden of survival. I fear for them that their mental and emotional condition is not in sufficient strength to endure another fight against this foe. They do not speak to the others of the troop and though they both assured me of their capability to fight with the strongest oaths, I am not so certain. I have done my best to make them feel at home and have even added, with the colonel’s approval, a auburn chevron to my troop’s guidon that all may fear the combined might of the Ranger Hussars. I dearly wish that I had come to know these men under happier circumstances as we would be best of friends.

~KRD

PS: I have not yet issued a decision on the ongoing drama of the name for Troop A, but am waiting to hear back about my suggestion. Davidson’s Devils.

I have no words to describe what happened today. We received word at about noon that the Auburn Rangers have suffered a severe defeat and are falling back in serious disarray. Early this evening, the first shattered men arrived in camp. They were covered in mud and blood and all were wounded in some way. They continue to arrive in groups of two’s and three’s though never any larger groups. Riders from our 2nd division who are familiar to the plains have been dispatched to uncover what happened and help rescue survivors. I volunteered my A Troop for this duty but was immediately rebuffed.

The camp a few days ago was riding high with the expectation of decisive action and a quick return to our homes and families. That confidence is gone and has been replaced by creeping fear as every man looks to the survivors who are among the bravest of us and sees only his own death at the hands of a remorseless foe. If the Rangers were abused so badly that not 1 in 4 remains alive then how can the rest of us survive. I see this thought etched on the face of every man I see.

Just before nightfall, I assembled my entire troop, 150 men, and bade them remember the defeat we handed our foe with our own hands, unhorsed, and unprepared in the dead of night. How together with Taylor’s infantry, we utterly destroyed them and ground their lives out into the dust. I told them that we will do this again and soon. We will take vengeance on those that have slain our brothers. The entire camp will be looking to us, as we have seen the foe and taken his measure. If we display fear at these recent events, they will be afraid. If we display the grim determination to see this through to the end, they will all take heart.

They were brave words and sincerely spoken, but for the disquiet in my heart that tells me otherwise.

Thanks for Reading!

~H

There is a rumor in the camp that the Ranger’s have located the main body of the enemy and therefore full-scale action is imminent. I know better than to believe such rumors, but they reach very near the hopes of all of us. Namely, that this action on the plains will be ended soon and that we can all return home. It also presages action and the possibility of injury or death and while it would be a damn sight better than the boredom we currently fight I do not look forward to battle. There are certainly those among us for whom battle holds some allure, I am not among their number. I have already bathed my sword in the blood of my enemy and I do not feel especially heroic or more glorious. I only wish to do my duty and return myself and as many of my men as possible home.

Home. I have a hard time remembering what that is. I can see our farmhouse with the two oak trees out front and the woods out back past the near pasture, but the things that made it home, the laughter of my son, the sweet melody of my wife’s voice, the scent of freshly plowed fields blowing in our open window, the look on my wife’s face after we’ve made love are harder to hold in mind and easily slip away once recalled. I am so grateful for the letter’s she sent because they smell like her, and that does so much to aid my memory of home.

I hope it does not come to violent conflict, but if it does it will be better to have it done and over with soon. I fear that if decisive action does not happen soon, I shall go mad with boredom and sickness for home both.

KRD

PS: The first sergeant approached me today with the result of the men’s endeavor to provide a “more fitting” name for the troop. It has come down to either Davidson’s Defilers or Davidson’s Demons. I am not sure how I feel about either, but a decision is expected soon and it will be bad for morale if I do not make a choice.

I hope that this letter finds you in good health and obeying your mother. I trust that you are enjoying the summer and have left no part of the woods behind the house unexplored. When I return you must show me all that you have discovered. I promise that upon my return I will teach you to ride a horse and together we shall discover all that the woods and the creek beyond have to offer.

I know that you worry about Uncle Robert and myself and I am happy to report that we are both healthy and in fine spirits. If our faces are any mark, then we are doing exceedingly well for your uncle’s moustaches have grown to an impressive length. He is quite the chevalier and will be much admired by all upon our return. I for one, have grown a beard that has also been much remarked on by the men for it’s manly character and martial bearing. I think that they say this just to tease me because they are much older than I and regard me as their son, though I am their commander in all things.

I also know that you are most concerned about Errol and ask about him constantly. He is well, and though he much misses your nightly apple, he is in good spirits and I try to treat him as often as I can. Yes, son I am not ignorant of your regular trips into the barn to sneak apples to my war-horse for though you tried to be secret, you forget that I am a scout and a leader of men trained to spot the signs of those who sneak about. Do not fear though, for I love the pains you take to care for Errol and often would steal away behind you to watch you feed him.

Do not tell your mother about me teaching you to ride when I return, for it shall be our secret and we shall surprise her on an evening when we both ride up to the door and all three of us go out for a picnic. Imagine the look on her face when she sees both of her men there at the door, mounted and dressed in our finest. We shall make her laugh and smile for a week at least.

Until then, obey your mother in all things and remember that your Papa loves you dearly,

K. Davidson.

So much has changed since we left on patrol that I hardly recognize the camp anymore. Apparently, we are to remain encamped here until the true nature and intent of the foe can be discerned. The Marshal, for it seems that everyone including myself and Robert have received promotions since we returned with the infantry, has ordered detachments of the Rangers forward to find the enemies camp so that we can bring them to decisive action shortly.

I and my men have spent the past few days since returning undergoing constant interrogation by the Marshal’s staff to determine all that they can about our foe.  All I remember from that brief encounter, I have told them yet it amounts only to these few points of datum.

First, they are uncommonly large and therefore strong. During the fight I saw one of them lift a legionnaire, a giant among his fellows, and toss him through the air as though he were nought but a sack of flour.

Secondly, they are uncommonly brave. Reference their fight to the death when surrounded in our camp.  Even though grievously wounded, they continued to fight on and had to be slaughtered on the spot, not one attempted to flee or throw down their arms in surrender.

Thirdly, they are quite crafty and join their great strength and bravery with stealth so that one can never know when they will attack next.

This last note is conjecture, but I believe it is a strongly founded one given the skill with which our combatants of the previous evening entered our camp, and but for the vigilance of our pickets would have slaughtered us as we slept.

When not being questioned by the intelligence staff, my entire troupe has been working double-time to return our kit and arms to a condition fitting that of soldiers in the army of the Republic. During the long marches of the patrol, we did not have the time to properly clean and polish our equipment, but now that we have returned, we must once again perform the long and dull tasks required to look the part we have been called upon to play. Not a man among us, from the rawest private recruit to myself, has had a moment to himself apart from ensuring the mirror-like sheen of every brass button, fitting, and buckle we own. Even our carbine’s now carry a polish unseen since the march-out from Fort Samuelson.

Our horses are also looking much refreshed since we returned. While we were able to find plenty of provender for them from the various grasses of the plains, they were much relieved to find the oats and hay to which they were used. Several days back and already they are looking fresher and healthier. I know that Jack used to sneak apples to Errol when he thought I was not looking. It made me smile to see my small boy standing in the shadows of the stables holding up an apple sneaked from the kitchen in a shaking hand to the lowering head of my mighty war-horse.  I knew Errol was not going to harm the boy, but the way he pulled back his lips and with his teeth took the apple must have scared Jack for he ran from the stable. I do hope that Jack is getting along and not providing too much trouble for his mother. I must write to him soon for I do miss him and he will want to know how Errol and I are getting along.