Spare a Worm to save an Empire!!!

Why - you ask askance - would a gentleman soldier befriend such a wreck of a man? Surely (for the Palsied Cur's own sake) a swift end to its miserable existence was a moral obligation?

A painful but justified Act of Mercy

Yes, I could no longer deny the demands of my Christian conscience: cold execution was the only option...to spare his life would be a crime against God and human decency. One look in the wretch's eyes...my god.. never had I seen such cringing lust for self-destruction.

As he felt the cold barrel press against his forehead.. he gargled a pitiful "Help, help".. and I replied kindly..  "Help is finallly at hand ...you sad Scots Bugger...!

But - as I cocked the hammer and chambered the merciful round - word came of the Thuggee attack..!!!

Mounted Terror in the Afghan Badlands!!

The vile Pashtuns had allied themselves with the Crazed Cult of Kali and had committed hundreds to the assault on Kandahar...

...my arm dropped to my side: the pistol slack in my grip. And in that moment, by sparing the Worthless Cur's toxic life.. I changed the course of history!

What lurid sentimental balderdash.. I hear you shriek?

Nay, fair reader -  in this brief moment, what little spark of humanity that spluttered in the whisky-scorched remnants of his soul, flared up and caught tinder.

In short... it was then, that MacPartout finally proved the worth of his miserable existence: by saving the The Drowned Man, he saved the honour of the Regiment and thus broke the Siege of Kandahar!!

That Putrid Scots Tramp had proved a biblical truth:

The lowest and most degenerate of animals still serves a purpose in the Divine Plan!

And so we are bound.. I to him, for his brave sacrifice on the walls of Kandahar fort, and he to me -

MacPartout has never forgotten that, when I stilled my trigger finger (a cold barrel pressed to his temple) he was gifted a final chance at redemption.  It was the most difficult choice of my Christian life.. to rid the Lord's dominion of another worthless piece of human refuse... is of course a noble deed!

...and it would be false of me to say there are not days when I rue my decision...

But in the quiet of the night, a quiet broken only by soothing rhythms of a Scottish Sea-Snore; a light whistle betwixt tusks; and with the comfort of his warm mammalian bulk cushioning my weary feet.. I know that I did right by him...and my conscience is soothed.

I must pause now.. for I have manly tears in my eyes...

----Sniff, Sob, Snort, Cough, Splutter, Wheeze-----

...Dammit MacPartout.. my Afghan Socks are still smouldering!!! The room chokes with smoke you fool!!!