Dearest Martha, The sons of Indiana are no strangers to hard service required of the modern cavalry regiment. Rare is the moment that the horse soldier rests his legs behind the battlements of garrison life. On Sunday afternoon the trumpets called. We successfully defended the garrison at Lucas Oil from a battalion of Cincinnati-born marauders straying far away from their border country barracks nestled upon the hotly contested Ohio River. And what strange brigands opposed us! They were led by one Major Dalton, who has won many campaigns in his years as a leading plunderer, but his offenses have stalled in the winter months, leading many back East to question his bona fides. But I shall not question such a valiant warrior! I too know this feeling. Tis one thing to fend off a gregarious bunch of Chiefs with a rally. It is quite another matter itself to hold off a whirlwind of devils such as these! Our efforts were compromised after early success when a Georgian -- one who trained with Spartans in Michigan no less -- breached the wall with a frontal assault on Boom Herron's John Thomas causing our lines to shift rather backwards after we'd carried considerable momentum. Can you imagine such vicious fighters! I can know nothing more unlike the picture of how a battle given by the authors and artists at the broadsheets. As if you could simply navigate these conditions with simple pencil lines on the Surface scrolls the peddlers carry. It is a might bit more complicated indeed when a wild eyed gentleman named Pacman has been promised your heart on his mother's best silver serving tray. Still, we muster ourselves forward with the enthusiasm of a jolly whaling crew on its maiden voyage through the blue waters of the south seas. I have seen the writers appropriate my name for their pulp. It does flatter the weary soul, but I fear my comrades are not getting their due in these difficult efforts. Donte Moncrief immigrated here from enemy country in Mississippi. He fights side-by-side with us, and it was his hands that scored a mighty blow against these orange devils that finally allowed us greater purchase in our home defense. And I have become great allies with T.Y. Hilton. He is a reliable adjunct in our fight and a man who has embraced these Indiana plains as his own, despite deep roots in the foreign swamps of Florida. In spite of harvesting such great bundles of sorrow, we have not been more made into evil men. I feel most fortunate that these lads and I must continue this campaign. And when we are finally asked to harness our sabers for good, I fear loitering about the farms and shops and offices of fine villages will no longer carry the same appeal it did before this campaign began so many harvests before. But there is no time to ponder such a future, not with the guidon still flapping about in the face of these western winds. Forward we ride! Our gallup upward into the heights of the Western lands backed by the mountains of Colorado territory. Our blue jackets next clash with horse soldiers riding under orange banners -- William the Conquerer should have had so many orange devils on his side! Take my love to mother. I know these ongoing hostilities weigh heavy on her heart, especially with father tied up in his own skirmishes. And please care for yourself, oh sweet Martha. I carry a song your song with me wherever we ride. All of my love, Brig. Gen. Andrew Luck