It seems appropriate when starting such a journal as this, to provide a basic amount of backstory to make sense of the things that are to come as I continue to write. For the purposes of those reading, my name is Doctor William Clift, Surgeon to his Majesty's provincial forces serving in the Wilderness, currently stationed at Fort Cumberland. Fort Cumberland is a dreadful place, on the edge of civility and savagery. Illness abounds here, but the matrons seem to make well with their charges, and I am permitted at my leisure to write as I do now. My meager state here in a small tent and hospital space available to me is a world away from the small house my sister and I share in Fredericktowne. However, the Kings Shilling shall be a great addition to what little savings are left, and will see my sister in a fine state to keep the small shop in operation, and afford to care for the indenture that we have secured to assist Charlotte during my absence.

At the moment my primary functions here include the shaving of the men, as well as providing the medicines for the various persistent illnesses that seem to plague the men here. There is word that we shall be returning East to Fort Frederick to receive supplies and check on the state of affairs at that locale shortly, especially with word of Indian Raids in the Pennsylvania regions becoming more prevalent. I am happy for it, for the opportunity may yet arise for me to use the surgical skill which seems to lapse when we are not on the march.

The candle grows dim, as does my energy for the evening, and so I must end this entry with the general thought in my head of what things I should actually write about, rather than the day to day of my life on the Frontier, which seems almost droll. I doubt that I will want to look back here in a years time and see how I gave 3 Tobacco Clysters, a tea of horehound to a soldier, and delivered 1 baby, but rather more on my experiences as a surgeon here, when there is true action.