WW1 in a Different World
Monday, 18 March 1921.
Carolina Front, American Colonies.
We punched through the Teutonic lines on Saturday. Storms rumbled off in the distance, threatening another downpour to add to the mud and muck. Truth be told, we could not be much wetter than a drowned rat.
Colonel Fitzsimmons would tell us to buck up and march on.
Colonel Fitzsimmons is high and dry in his tent back at rear command.
Nonetheless, our Alatainian morale, for King and Country, is surprising in view of the casualties we sustained and the dismal conditions of the camps. Our men have superior training and equipment, but there is something about the Teutonic ferocity and their sheer numbers which strikes us with trepidation.
Intelligence still hasn’t the foggiest on how the Teutons managed to move so many regulars into the Carolinas. The last we knew, they were sitting in Florida and Georgia, content to wait out the winter rains. Then we had orders to double time to the south and meet their advance.
And so we did, with righteous fervor that only a soldier of the Alatainian Empire could present in the face of difficult odds. Our fast firing rifleman and artillery hammered the enemy lines until they didn’t know right from left.
Thank the gods the Teutons moved too fast for their artillery to catch them up.
Now they have retreated to the protective embrace of their heavy guns and I fear they will be rather hard to root out without much bloodshed.
Fortune favors us, however, because the Cherokee Dominion has sent reinforcements from the west and will flank the Teutons. The Cherokee have many wrongs done to them by the Teuton invaders and will have their chance to avenge them.
Some of my countrymen are not so wise as I in their thoughts of the natives of this continent. My experience has found them wise and thoughtful people. They do not believe is excess and use only as much as they need from the gifts the land gives them. They are fierce warriors as well as superb marksmen with their Carolina repeating rifles. We are fotunate to have them on our side and I hope for our continued good relations with them.
I know I drone on and on about the war, when I should speak of myself. For that is what you really want to know. On that topic, I can say much and little. Know that I am well and generally uninjured. I did take shrapnel during the charge, but this is only a superficial wound and on the mend.
Now I sit beneath the canopy of a massive oak, staring across the rain swept mountains covered to a forest of trees so large you cannot imagine. Any such trees in our homeland have long since been turned to timber when we knew not of our damage to the natural world. It saddens me to see the damage our war has done to this beautiful place.
It is well that our country now understands the need to preserve the earth and the need to fight for it. If not for the King and the Ministry we would still be as the Teutons. The Teutons that slash and burn everything they see to feed the fires of their industry. If they are left unchecked, the world will be a ruin clambering with a population unchecked and all things natural but a distant memory.
Pray we win so that this will not be.
That is all I have for now. When you read this letter, I will be in the Georgian territory staring down the backs of the retreating Teutons and singing the Victory Hymn of the Empire.
To our good health,
Kirby Smith Porter
Captain, First Alatainian Rifles