Fourteen
We sought refuge in Pembrokeshire, a breathtaking coast side. The only Outer Area belonging to the Welsh. It took three weeks to travel and establish camp there. Three weeks after the devastating defeat that had cost us men, weapons, and most important—our spirits. Three weeks of preparation and otherwise passivity. This was the worst part, knowing that time ran while I did nothing.
The tender island summer had nearly ended, and autumn threatened to cover us with rainstorms and icy winds. Interesting how the culture and the people changed as we left Scottish ground and approached Wales. The Welsh lived in a small village at the coast, in stone huts close to an old lighthouse where they gathered practically every night to drink, sing and eat—fish and seafood. Their culture compri
