This is an excerpt of a letter from Alain Vigneault during the 2017-2018 Rangers War.
It's been but two weeks since this war began, and I am already at a loss of words. The word can be a dark and scary place, and I am without old generals who cannot aid me and yet still haunt my dreams. Last I heard General Daniel is somewhere to the South, although they won't tell me where. They fear I would go to him. General Tanner has betrayed his nation by going to the northern rebels in Canada. I should shun him but I can't. I still love him, damn me for it.
I am lost, Martha. I am alone.
The boys brought in a general with near as much experience as I have to join the fight. They say he's here for support but last night I caught him drawing up his own battle formations! In that moment I was ready to strike, but used Arniel's last-minute offensive plans and generated no force in my attack and failed. The only blessing is that my strike was so very futile he did not even know I attempted it. I will bide my time with him.
I am doing everything I can to make things right. I have relegated my very best soldiers to the back of the battlefield where they will be useless. I have dismantled the new defensive fortifications and have elected to use older, less effective ones in the most important positions. I took the kid with tons of potential and sent him to a different battalion. I do not understand why these things aren't working, but God help me I will not try to understand what I can do differently. A square peg will fit in a round hole if you smash it into it enough times, or so I've come to believe.
I have also taken Sargent Hayes and thrown him into a role he is completely unprepared for just like I did last year. It still is not working, but it will eventually. The unit has no firepower but that's OK, so long as we're confused and disoriented. An opponent cannot guess something your soldiers don't know. It's brilliant.
We have lost many battles, but I am confident my lack of adjustments or changes will fix these issues.
I miss you, Martha. I pine for you.