A Stand Worth Taking

The Blame Game

Saturday, December 4th

Supplies: Low

Morale: Wavering

The troops' morale is wavering. It has been since yesterday. The near invasion of the fort left most men on edge; they fear another attack, one they are unprepared for. Other men exhibit concern for their injured comrade. Most have practical concerns, one has emotional concerns. Captain Hopkins hasn't personally visited Foster yet, but every time he sees me, he asks about him. One does grow tired of pesky questions. After the fifth or sixth time, I told Hopkins to go visit Foster himself if he was so worried. Whether or not he will take up on my offer, I do not know.

Speaking of Foster, his injuries are healing cleanly. Bandages are to be changed every twelve hours in order to eliminate any risks of infection. Using previous rations I had moused away, I tried to feed him double provisions, but he refuses to eat it, arguing that I shouldn't be wasting so much food. We've settled on one-third rather than double.

A soldier named Devin Fox has been chosen to replace Foster as a nighttime guard. I do not know much about him or his reputation, but Foster speaks highly of Mr. Fox. He claims he and Fox trained together, and although he is not as close to Fox as he is to Hopkins, they are good acquaintances. Nevertheless, I asked Captain Hopkins to assign a second soldier to nighttime duty, Rodney Turner, whom I believe he chose. I do not have as much faith in Fox's abilities alone as I did Foster's, and I do not wish to risk another attempted invasion. There are only so many beds in the infirmary.

Monday, December 6th

Supplies: Low

Morale: High

Hopkins's mood has improved with Foster on the mend. Good. He keeps the fort in high spirits, and it's better to face death with a smile than a frown.

Fox has visited Foster twice now. That's twice more than the Captain has. I still cannot understand why Hopkins is reluctant to visit. It's clear he cares for his friend, yet he acts on it. Perhaps that is a common thing among soldiers, attachment being seen as a form of weakness. Fox, anyways, is a chatty fellow, his mouth never stops running. And while normally, I would have kicked him from the office the second he walked in, Foster needs the social interaction. Since Captain Hopkins refuses to visit, Fox will have to serve as his substitute, and thus I shall tolerate his incessant talking.

Overall conditions are deteriorating. Despite rationing, our provisions will run dry within the next few days. Hopkins hasn't yet mentioned it to the troops. I haven't yet mentioned it to Foster. He needs the energy to recover, and I fear he may stop eating entirely if he learns of the current situation. Ignorance is bliss, they say, and it applies heavily to our current scenario. Furthermore, the temperature continues to drop. Water does not yet freeze, but I suspect that will not be the case much longer.

Wednesday, December 8th

Supplies: Low

Morale: Low

I went to fetch water today, and to my horror, when I pulled up the bucket from the well, the water was tainted red and smelled faintly of decay. I reported the foul water to Hopkins, and he immediately began an investigation. Our water source had been compromised and our survival, which was already uncertain to begin with, was in peril. As it turns out, a possum had fallen into the well and drowned. Its corpse rotted, thus contaminating the water. The possum appeared about a week into the decay process. How come we hadn't noticed it earlier? I'll need to keep an eye on the troops for symptoms of illness, and in the meantime, pray for salvation. Water ran out today. Food goes tomorrow. Life will follow soon.