**Dispatch From the Field

As the end of the day crept upon us, we resigned ourselves to the notion that we weren't making it back to HQ tonight.  Mama had again left out for provisions, leaving us to fend for ourselves. With frothing horses, tired backs, and Corporal Roberts sour belly, we decided we had better make camp.  As we pitched our tent we came in contact with the indigenous tribe of this locale, who didn't seem to appreciate our camp idear in the least.  It seems that they are near entirely female!  Our inital excitement to this fact was short lived once we got to trading with the savages.  They all dress in funny clothes, talk funny and even wear some sort of internal listening devices around their necks.  And that aint nothin', every time we turn around they're tellin' us what to do!  Robert's got it the worst, they're always a' pullin and a' proddin at him. "Do this, don't do that", "swaller this, pee in that".  One of them even attacked him with a needle!  Hopefully tomorrow we can break camp, and get back where we belong.

They don't care for my antics here, if only I cared.