Chapter Text
After a month of shoveling our own brahmin shit in Sanctuary hills, we finally started our march off to Nukaworld. Some 2000 men, many without shoes, and most with simple weapons, or maybe captured weapons from the Institute if you were lucky, set off down the dirt and broken roads, heading west.
Word around camp was positive, only man that seemed unhappy was capt'n, who flogged any man who couldn't keep up with the column. The chatter among us as we marched was always broken up by his rants. Sometimes I wonder why the General put that bloody idiot in charge of our platoon, but then again, the man saw his whole family get carried off by Pitt raiders, so I won't complain, not to his face anyway.
I heard rumors about some skirmishing up by the front of the army, but I didn't hear any gunshots. More then like it's just some scouts getting restless, and charging at shadows. Mood is overall pleased. The marching was long and hard, but by the end of the day we advanced some 30 miles, a whole 10 above schedule, which caused great celebration among the men.
Alcohol is strictly forbidden, but my friend Mr. Finch managed to sneak a bottle in his backpack before leaving. he shared it with the men, as Capt'n slept.
I feel optimistic. Nothing is in our way, by this time next week, we'll have besieged Nukaworld, and by all accounts, I'll be home by Christmas. Our artillery will surely break em in the 1st battle.
I received a letter from my mom, saying something what to do should I encounter talking deathclaws, but I think she's just a superstitious fool. She need not worry. Raiders aren't a threat to us, not anymore.
Tomorrows a new day, and a step closer to victory.