How would you react?
You sit there in judgement, wondering how I’m the sole survivor of the latest massacre of a British Regulars company in this godforsaken land. I wonder the same thing.
We were marching along a cart track when the savages hit. It’d been raining miserably so none of our powder was dry. Bayonets don’t work well against an enemy in trees firing endless barrages of arrows. I took two in the chest.
The next thing I remember, I was on the ground, left for dead. I managed to make it here, somehow.
I lived. Sorry they didn’t.
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