My Neighbor I Know So Well (AmeCan)

First Time Overseas (Canada)

30 October, 1899

        Dear Diary, I'm embarking on my way to South Africa with the assigned troops. I confess I'm petrified, as this is my first time traveling overseas to somewhere unknown. My whole time in target practice was startling, considering I am no longer performing with a bow and arrow, but an actual firearm. The first time I held one, I almost dropped it due to the sudden weight. I'm used to light weaponry, it enabled me to move insanely swift. The third time, I adjusted to the weight and had an empty glass bottle placed on a pole. My hired instructor told me to seal my aim by looking into the focus, keep myself from moving my arms too much, and shoot. I did, and I chipped off a piece of bark from the wooden pole. He stressed to start learning quickly, to not take my sweet time. I didn't have much time until the thirtieth of October. I took his word and extended my practices from dawn to dusk. Breaks were made occasionally, but only for food and urination, then it's back onto the field. A month in, my instructor saw progress in my aiming. He set three glass bottles aligned on a wooden fence and told me to shoot. I shot all three. The sight made him impressed. The bottles piled up and so did their shards. One of my butlers in charge of cleaning the mess was beginning to become fed up. I told him to rest for the week, and said that I'll take care of it. I'm dividing this trip into minor entries on the same page. Remember, I am very conservative of my things. Yesterday I finished packing up all that I would bring. I brought: you, one of Alfred's letters he wrote to me, extra clothes just in case (although I was already given a suit), and a pistol specifically given to me. I'm examining the pistol right now, it's form is pretty. I read up that this model was made in France back in eighteen thirty-seven as a revolutionized last alternative following the Franco-Prussian War. Memorabilia of such dark times. Now I'm entering my own, hands-on. Pray that nothing bad will happen to me, that I'll still have my hands working functional. And if you see me with blood on my hands, I beg you not to perceive my being a monster.

Your friend, Matthew