Sorry I'm a day late, was quite ill last night. Anyway thanks for reading. Would love some feedback.

Part 13 - 1757-1763 South India - 3rd Carnatic war

The early part of the 18th century was when things really began to take shape in the form of the nation of Great Britain and her standing army. For most of a century the ruler had been the joint king of England and Scotland, but the countries were entirely separate. The king had put together an army made up from the remnants of both sides of the civil war, and these were being deployed in various battles around Europe, but the big change came in May of 1707 when the act of union was signed, effectively creating the single nation of Great Britain, and swallowing up England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales. I remember being in London at the time of the signing as I was on leave for a month from the war in Sweden. There was a feeling of hope amongst the common people, a feeling that perhaps we were heading towards a golden age.

Williams had his suspicions, claiming that the English had finally won the war with his Scots, except it had been done through political manoeuvring rather than force. This made him depressed, and because of that I was glad to get back into the action on the continent.

Soon the news reached me from home that the armies of England and Scotland would be amalgamated, and the Army of Great Britain would be formed. I did not spend much time thinking about this as I was greatly pre occupied with the battlefield, and the small group of men at my command who were becoming somewhat unsettled thanks to poor conditions and supplies.

When I returned home in 1710 I left behind a war that would continue still for many years, but I had become disillusioned with the whole affair. Being a mercenary seemed to be a good plan in theory, but in practice it was not so straightforward. I was fighting alongside other mercenaries, many of who, were criminals in some way. They seemed to take great pleasure in the brutal deaths they imparted upon their fellow man, and I felt sure that they would turn on their fellows upon a whim. The regular soldiers I served with seemed to regard us as outsiders, and because of this it was difficult to form bonds in camp or even during operations.

The home I returned to seemed different somehow, as Williams was falling into a pit of despair thanks to the union of nations. I tried to speak with him but the butler, Howard, a gaunt man who had served for many years, told me he rarely came out of his chamber, instead preferring to request prostitutes be sent to him. Howard would then dispose of the bodies. It was helpful that the butler was a human who did not care about anything other than a paycheque, as without him Williams would be in great difficulty.

For three months I stayed in the house but the feeling of doom was oppressive. I spent more and more time outside roaming the streets of the city until one day I came across a man in a uniform with a red coat. He had a rifle which was much more advanced than mine, and he looked like he could take care of himself so I decided to speak with him. I followed him into a tavern and sat next to him.

"Good day sir." He said, sipping from his tankard.

"And to you." I replied. "I see you are a soldier, what regiment are you?"

"Grenadiers sir. I use my rifle where possible."

"And where did you join up?"

He looked uncomfortable. "Press gang sir. They took all of the men from my villiage."

This was going to be more difficult than I hoped, but I persevered. "If a man were to want to enlist, where could he do it?" I asked cautiously.

"There is an office in Soho sir. Try that." And with that he turned his body away from me and concentrated on his ale.

The next day I found the office in Soho and signed up. I told the recruiter that I could operate a long distance weapon and that I had fought in the Baltics. He seemed skeptical but I was able to tell him some of the places I had been and he was soon very interested. I explained that I craved the life amongst the men, that I was not cut out to be an officer, and he said that would be fine. I was given instructions to attend basic training and I returned home. Not wanting to waste any time I left a short note with Howard and collected my possessions. Any that I knew I would be unable to keep I buried in Hyde park and made a mental note of their whereabouts. One day someone was going to dig up my various suits of armour scattered throughout the country.

Life in the army was a new challenge for me, but after the strange time I had endured through the previous decade I felt in need of a change, and boy did I get it. The training was strict and brutal, with the bond forming amongst my unit thanks to the conditions we were in. If any one of us made a miss step, then the entire group would pay, often being made to go without food or run extra distances. Occasionally the punishment was more severe and ended in a beating for the culprit, but collectively we tried to keep that to a minimum. I found myself popular because I was always willing to give up my food. It was a time when nobody questioned why the never saw me eat or drink, but simply thanked me for the extra. My food came off barracks, in the nearby town. Picking off my prey was always easy as there were lots of prostitutes near to the camp, earning their living from the soldiers.

My prior training with the old adrenaline problem helped me a great deal. It turned out that these girls seldom enjoyed the idea of being murdered, so I was put to the test often, but I was always able to withstand the need to tear into a frenzy.

When our group was classified as fully trained we entered into the Royal Grenadiers, and were immediately shipped off to India to fight with the French. In all my years I have struggled to understand why men still go to war for their country. It was different for me, I had an advantage, but the mortal man stepping into a situation where his survival could be classed as fifty fifty, that does not sound sensible. And often for such trivial matters. Fighting over which area of India is controlled by who. A country thousands of miles away from our island.

The trip to India was long. We set sail with the Royal Navy from Southampton having had our fill of the local nightlife (I knew I wouldn't be eating for a while so I made sure I was satisfied before leaving port.) And sailed around the cape of good hope at the Southern end of Africa. The sea was often wild and unpredictable and many a man was lost to illness or calamity.

Things did not exactly get better once we were back on land. The humidity was unbearable, even for me. The locals eyed us cautiously and the French fought us well. I had been given a new rifle which had a longer range, and during battle I would lead a small group of men to a vantage point where we could take shots at the enemy. The inaccuracy of the rifle was irksome and I wished for my bow, but it would not be allowed so I struggled on.

After two years of fighting in India an incident struck which ensured I would not be able to continue. I had somehow kept my secret from my fellows, but I had a growing feeling that there was a suspicion. Then I was shot in battle. I was blind sided and the musket blast knocked me on my back. Several of my unit were there to see it, and I knew it was something no living man could survive, so I stayed down while they fled. Once they were out of visual range I sat up, causing a commotion amongst the enemy. Then I unleashed the beast, feeding on their fear and converting it into frenzy I decimated a platoon. Their blood fuelled my walk back to England. A walk that would take some years.