25th July; The water boy

Everything he'd heard for nearly the past week had to do with battle. There was a fight coming with the French. The general was going to bloody the Frogs' noses. There would be days of skirmishing before an actual battle occurred. The army would chase the French clear back to Paris. Battle, fighting, combat, death.

It was quite more than Martin could stand. He had been wishing fervently for days to be anywhere than here. Far away from his company. His regiment. The army. Spain itself. Home again. Even if being home again meant facing his father. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could get away from his present situation without needing to return to his old one. That'd be nice.

Nice, but highly unlikely. With a sigh, Martin hefted the empty kettle and quickened his pace. It was a relief to be away from his company and Captain Blackwood. Things had calmed down somewhat over the past couple of weeks, but the captain had been getting irritable again. And, as usual, the preferred object for venting for his irritation on seemed to be Martin. It was becoming part of his routine to avoid his officer's presence unless absolutely impossible.

Such were the unhappy batman's thoughts as he ploughed straight into somebody's back. Oh sh -