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to document the young soldier's actions than to use something never intended for personal scribbles, much less a piece outdated by a little more than a generation.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.

6. January 11th, 1907

January 11th, 1907.

Since pop was a former American officer, I was expecting the pop's boss to form a more...elegant. No, perhaps British?

Either way, what surprised me was the flippant response ol' pops gave back; arms were flying everywhere in greeting hugs, loud commotions rang through the camp we were meeting at to the point where another officer distinguishable by the crisp lines of his uniform complained to us personally.

Except me. I think he likes me because he gave me a pen. Nothing too fancy, just a simple brass screw-type cylinder fountain pen with ink view-ports. It screamed practicality all over, but its jejune construction appeals to me. Not to mention the heavy-weight nature of such fountain pens helps a lot when writing long wearisome passages like this journal. I can't really say much since this only the sixth entry I've put into it, but dam this is a nice pen!

Shoot, I can't erase ink. Not to self, meant to write 'damn' instead of 'dam.'

The base pop's working on is quaint, but it leaves much to improve compared to American field bases. One thing I can say is the long cleared strip of land.

Whoever's in charge of this base must've realized the potential flying machines have in war. Granted they're not that good right now, but imagine have the capability to soar through the skies over your enemy and deal damage while he sits back unable to do anything! I've only flown once, and I'm scared to do it again. I swear, if I have to cross the Atlantic on one of those dammed airships then I'll set fire to its hydrogen tanks before we get off the ground.

Dam it. Miss spelled again. All this improper vulgar language isn't going to look so good with all the numbers the playbook comes with.

Tonight, pop's gonna stay the night with his new boss since he'll need to be assimilated into the country before acquiring British citizenship for the new job. I'm not sure if we'll be able to keep our American citizenship according to our agent, but pops will have to lose his American one for British if he wants to work here. I'm not going to say this out front to anyone, but when it's independence day, I'm going crazy with whatever I can get my hands on. Fuck yeah!

Ah, I mean, Rule Brittanica?