Hello journal, I have been told to write in you from my father, because he told me that when he was a soldier, he became very lonely and needed someone to talk to so he could say the things he couldn’t, or, wasn’t allowed to say. So, he insisted on having me bring you with me in my kit bag. So, I’ll tell you journal. My fellow troops and I are patrolling the Celtic village. It’s so frigid here, rather than beloved Rome. Well, the Celts do seem quite savage, especially with their weapons, those horribly made spears with the triple heads, and what is that metal thing around his neck? I ask the soldier next to me, and he says that that it’s called a torc and that it’s a custom to wear one around your neck or on your arm, and then I realize, that everyone in the village is wearing one. My, look at that soldier’s helmet! It looks like it is made of metal and leather, horrible craftsmanship, especially compared to my bronze, beautifully crafted helmet with a cap of iron, and lined with cloth and animal for my comfort. And I thank the gods for the plate guarding my forehead, saved my life three times.
“Dear Jupiter! Look at these barbaric living standards, they’re nothing compared to ours!”I silently exclaimed, to the same soldier on my right side, (who I think might be now done answering my questions) and he agrees, as we look at the tiny huts all circled around a small fire at the center. I look over, and see two women climbing onto, excuse me, crawling into a small hut, I later found out that these were called Grain pits, as there were good places to store grain. I also have been told that that those might be places to hide during war times. Strange. To my surprise, I see our general, walking up to one of the Celts. What’s he doing? He’s trading!?! I am slightly relieved journal, to see the men in front and back of me with the same look o bewilderment that I must be carrying. The general later told us, that the Celts have skins valuable to us, leather hides, and timber that are very useful to Rome.
We have been welcomed into a family’s hut. And believe me journal, when I say family, I mean, family. All the relatives you could think of, second cousins, third aunts and uncles, and so many brothers and sisters that you wouldn’t believe. And in what a small hut! The family told us that there could be just one family to a number of huts! And the herds and herds of animals, apparently to mark wealth for these people. The animals are so small and loud, mind you, that they often keep me awake with their odd screeches and high pitched moans and groans. The people here have turned out to be quite kind, and caring. I do think I am going to like living here.