28mm scale (22mm to the shoulder.)
Sculpted by: Aaron Brown
Rhyfler Oraan, 101st Militia Catrawd (“The Barred Gate”).
I cannot report exactly where we are, nor where we are going, but I can say that we are on the advance again, and that we have managed to push a good distance in the last couple of weeks. We have stopped for a few hours now while the cavalry scouts out the ground ahead. It feels good to be out of those trenches! If we can break the Fidwoggers, then there’s the real chance we’ll get a couple of weeks of respite back home—or that at least is the rumor of the day.
I followed your advice for keeping my socks dry, and I was pleased to find my blisters healed right up. Also thank Mother and Father for the patriotic medal. I have screwed it into the stock of my Bogen, and it reminds me of the family whenever I see it. Tell Vela I appreciate the offer for the care package, but she’s better off donating it to the Charitable Brothers, since we trench-dogs don’t get mail very regularly. I would hate for her cooking to get spoiled!
I don’t know what else to tell you about. Maybe a story from the platoon. Old Wyb finally got bumped to Yawdryl, and to celebrate we pooled our money and bought some wine from a farmer near where we were bivouaced. We were having a swell old time of it when the is-Caerten decided it would be a fine time for an inspection! He lined us all up, and we madly rubbed licorice or sassafrass around in our mouths to mask the smell of wine. He was just about to get to me, when artillery started falling! The is-Caerten dove into a trench which was half-filled with muddy water. I never thought I would thank Freddy Fidwog for artillery, but it was worth it to see that pompous git dirty his uniform and get me out of an administrative reprimand.
I can hear the cavalry coming back, which means we’ll have to do the real fighting now. Keep care of yourself, and I will do likewise, and perhaps we will see each other before we join the ancestors.