A snippet from this morning’s musings:
‘I tell you, Sgt., said Doherty as they walked away from Munro’s headquarters, ‘I don’t know what is worse, the fact that we lost almost everyone from Parker’s command or the fact that Munro still doesn’t understand how or why an ambush like that is possible. By God’s own farting arse he cannot even make the decision to repair the walls or to dig a bloody defensive trench around the militia camp without hesitating for days when anyone with a speck of good sense could see these things needed doing right away. ‘
‘Aye, Colonel darling, but you know I’m just a lowly sergeant and am much too busy keeping this army functioning to be lost in such deep matters of the mind. Perhaps the colonel will feel better after a wee drop of comfort,’ grinned Sgt. Mulhern reaching into his tunic and pulling out a flask of brandy.
Doherty took the flask and took a large swig of the amber colored liquid and felt its burn course through his weary limbs and handed the flask back to Mulhern. He wiped his sleeve across his mouth and said, ‘Have I ever told you, Sergeant, what an excellent company you have been over the years. Aye and for sure, an excellent one for an Irishman.’
‘Why thankee Colonel and begging the Colonel’s pardon, you ain’t half bad yourself for a sheep shagging Scottish bastard,’ replied Mulhern continuing a conversation that was started many years ago.