December 4th 1775
I begin my long journey to America, under General Cornwallis's order. I and the rest of my Dragoons are to leave England at once and head near South Carolina, where General Cornwallis as well as his lap dog General O' Hara will be waiting. Those colonials seem to be giving them quite the trouble. They will soon realize the price that they will pay for challenging his majesty's army.
December 24 1775
A day before Christmas and where am I? Stuck on a boat in the freezing cold, heading to deal with simple farmers. Not like there was anything waiting for me back in England. My father, if you could even call him that, died long ago, spending all our family's fortune on his drinking and gambling. My mother, bless her kind heart, had died about a year ago from consumption, with no one to take care of her in her final days. And my siblings, they all had families of their own now, children to look after and spouses to love. I can remember that before my mother had died, she would always told me I needed to settle down with a nice woman. But I never have the time, nor have I ever found a lady that enticed me. The women in England are quite ditzy if you ask me, as I'm sure any other man would agree. My only goal at this time is fulfilling my duties as a soldier.
January 1, 1776
We finally made it to America, a lot of business to attend to, not like every moment of my life isn't already filled with work. Although I shall still keep a hold of this journal, I do believe I won't be able to write in it as much as I would like. But I will attempt to make an entry every couple of weeks. All work and no relaxation tends to make for a grumpy individual.
January 16, 1776
With all the hassle of being stuck on a boat with a hundred or so men, I never "officially" introduced myself. It's not really for my sake, but rather if it falls in someone else's hands. I am William Tavington, Colonel in his majesty's army, under Lord Cornwallis's order. Although he and that bloody nescience O'Hara are starting to get on my last nerve. This war may very well be the death of me. I highly doubt it, but one can never be too careful, even when around farmhands.
May 3rd, 1776
It has been quite some time since I last wrote. A lot of troubling matters have come up since my last entry. A "ghost" seems to have taken down quite a number of his majesty's officers. Thankfully none of my own men, at least not yet. I do however believe we are close to finding him. Something about this ghost seems oddly familiar.
June 13th, 1776
Such little time has passed, and yet I have learned so much. I have identified the ghost, and killed not one, but now two of his sons. The older one shot me in the shoulder, but I'll be damned if that keeps me out of this war. I wish I could say the same for my beloved friend Captain Bordon. The damned rebel stabbed him in the gut where he was left to bleed out. We have lost good men this day. And they shall be avenged.
July 4th, 1776
I can't rest. In a few hours we face the ghost and his men, along with a handful of Frenchmen that decided to help them at Cowpens. I can't say I'm nervous, but I also cannot guarantee my safe return. I have faith in my men, but casualties are very high in a battle up-close and personal as this one. I have confidence in myself as well; I haven't lost a battle yet. Let's hope we can keep it that way. Maybe one day I'll finally have a wife and child to come home to. One can only hope. As for this battle, it appears that I am the better man.