In the beginning of June some of us was participating in a GoSG march south of Stockholm. This is my interpretation of the events that occurred deep in the Swedish woods.
At the muster point we realized that the marching force had suffered heavy casualties, our company included. Just a few brave souls was getting their armour and packing on. The commander of the march, a renowned local mercenary captain had hired our archer company as vanguard and some of us also supported the logistic transport that travelled by boat on the small lakes and rivers. The fighting force was us, or Lynx as the captain called us, elephant was the mainguard, composed of local, steadfast troops and Leo, swift moving polearm wielding Burgundians made up the rearguard.
Food was passed out and the company marched off on the first and longest part on the route. The mission was to escort a group of gunners to besieged town through enemy territory. All of us were carrying arms and armour, sleeping gear, extra clothes and rations. The route was over rocks and slippery roots, passing small lakes(one named little whore lake) and old forests.
After marching about 10 kilometres we heard thunder in the distance and at the same time the commander was struck with heatstroke. We took some of his armour to lighten the load but he wanted to stay behind and rest a bit so we marched on on unknown paths and it didn't take long before we were lost in the deep woods. The Burgundians started to look a bit lost amongst all the big dark trees and freshwater lakes, they were used to tulips and polluted canals. The thunder rolled closer.
Fortunately we found the right footing again and could pick up the pace and an hour or so later we reached a newly risen camp with people preparing foods and setting up tents. As soon as we took off our gear it started raining cats and dogs. The evening was spent in good company with beer and good food. But when the sun started to disappear behind the gloomy trees an unheard evil started to move amongst us, drinking our blood. This evil you can barely see and you notice it when it's too late. I'm talking about the gnats, knott in the local tongue. This ruthless mosquito lives near water and comes in thousands. A local halberdier tried to rub every inch of his body with bog myrtle to repel the creatures and the Burgundíans looked at him with wide eyes, but it didn't work that well. The only way was for me to go to bed cocooned in my cloak with my hood closed tightly around my face.
To be continued...