Your letters bring such joy in these difficult times; they divert, intrigue and bring me closer to your heart and the green lawns of England.   Please encourage your father to desist from his bicycle adventures. This is his third accident in as many months, no good will come of it, and fear he will be targeted with some unpleasant gossip.

Indeed mishaps seem to come in threes. I read with interest your thought provoking dissection of the state of England's politics. As this appears to be the third reform act I have to agree that the last two must have been shoddily conceived and poorly executed. Tufty tells me that they will never get it right and lead the country to absolute ruin. However this is the man who, during the height of our last battle, became locked into an absorbing game of whist with the civilians he was supposed to be hastening to safety.

I find it difficult to express the admiration I hold for the men who briefly formed my command. Their heroism, as we successfully extracted the civilians from the Mahaba garrison, will never be properly accounted for by any that use words on a page. In summary, I do not believe that I will be able to keep my commission. Though on the battlefield we fought an almost text book withdrawal, that drew ready praise from those few lucky men that managed to escape, it will not be viewed well in Blighty.

I have not yet seen any of the official reports, but I can tell you that most all of the civilians escaped unharmed. However, I regret to tell you that I have lost in battle my dear friend Captain Keen. I simply cannot begin to express my sorrow at losing my old school fellow and cricketing lieutenant.   At the last I was forced to negotiate with an erstwhile native force commander, who had betrayed us at the height of the fighting. I had little option but to give the craven dog our rifles in exchange for our safe withdrawal up river by paddle steamer. This final humiliation may well, rightly, cost me my command. Sir Garnet's tragic death in the final melee as we pushed onto the steamer remains a mystery. He was a brave old soldier, perhaps overly cautious, who deserved to die in peace in England.

The truth is that it has been my lot to have commanded brave and capable men, in difficult circumstances, with little hope of a victory. We have been badly outnumbered and unable to turn our technical superiority to sufficient tactical advantage to win the day. I agonise that it is my fault, but seasoned comrades assure me that I could have done no more and seem now to have earned their respect and admiration. There is an ugly lust in the air for revenge over the cowardly enemy who target innocent civilians and continue to practice cruel slavery.

For me it is the nights that are the worst. I am haunted by the faces of my friends who fell dutifully at my behest. Even Tufty's exuberant rendition of Beethoven's 5th, with nothing but a pair of regimental spoons and a precariously ripened melon, has proved able to stir me from my melancholy.

I have now to decide what more I can do here in this bloody land. Much will depend on how the action I undertook is viewed by our command. I have in fact been summoned to the offices of District Commissioner Malahide Wolmondesley, who now takes great interest in this part of empire. My fate will be decided at this meeting.   I know what you must be thinking sweet violet, and yes, I have to tell you that Molly is here in Sudistan. Please be reassured that I harbour no romantic inclinations for her whatsoever. The supposed passionate encounter at the Ballingforth Jubilee Ball, and subsequent 'hermitage incidents', are laced with the malicious gossip of the Hyde-Hamiltons and Thornberries. Such slander is not to be trusted.

Perhaps I am due to return home? I cannot say. There is, I believe, a gathering storm brewing here and I sense that my business in this God forsaken (*) land is, as yet, unfinished.

Please write again soon.

Moe,

Captain Maurice StJohn Eager

"B" Company