A Soldier's Paybook

by CommanderDuck14

While not so advertised as the son of a backdoors prominent military leader, Samuel Sherman Jackson still has to push himself to protect those he deems important. What better way to document the young soldier's actions than to use something never intended for personal scribbles, much less a piece outdated by a little more than a generation. Accompanies Allies and some future works.

5. January 10th, 1907

January 10th, 1907.

After the cod, and napping, of course, I woke up at Reveille to the sound of Ma snoring through the walls. She's definitely getting too old for this kind of travel, Pops too.

Last year they could ride all they wanted on their Raleigh Modèle Superbe bikes they imported for family-only transport. Those bikes even had a dress guard on the lady versions, and both came with a 3-speed gear set. 3-SPEED! That's better than the 2-speed one that came out just two years before! They're supposed to arrive a week from now, so we're stuck with walking until then. I'm also too short for those things, which really puts a damper on my mood right now.

Where was I?

Oh right, old parents. Pops met Saphira when he was still lugging logs from the great pines aft of New York. He went to school and passed his class somewhere with the modern equivalence between a B and an F. I'm not sure, it was basically pass or get the stick. Cripes, I still hate that method of, "Beating the lesson into you!" I think they've been married for 30 years now, a long time according to some of dad's friends–I think they're jealous of how long pop's been able to keep his wife for that long.

The train ride was pleasant considering the second class seating we were prearranged with. I was initially shocked at the amount of generosity the crew supplied through the day trip. For one, our conductor didn't say anything when Ma request we, and I mean me, open the windows because she felt it was too stuffy in the car.

At about lunchtime, the conductor served us these petit dry sandwiches with some lemonade fresh from the dining car since all the first-class passengers were using it. I asked Pops what they were and he said they were small sandwiches. Not really useful if you ask me.

On other note-worthy topics, I saw a golden cat through the window, chasing a butterfly and wrecking cars as it went. I'll ask Ma about that tomorrow, but for now, I think I'll stop writing. All that coal shoveling into the boiler really had me for the day. I'm pretty sure my hands are still at the last station.