Winter sat in the snug of the bar. He looked round at the books about Wolfe Tone and 1916 and the roaring fire. He was struck about how far he was from the heat of his native Sailsbury.
Things were going well. The attack on the gas works had been a huge success. He was especially pleased with the way in which the "mauraders" as he nicknamed his Irish unit had got the jobs done so quickly. Flannery was relieved that they had entered and vacated the barn with barely a noise.
The lack of casualties was especially gratifying. Winter had made it clear to everyone from Lynch to Flannery that the attacks were to be against infrastructure only. He was a soldier, not a monster, even though he'd met a lot of monsters.
He also knew that this was just the start. But he also knew it had started...