Indian Speed ​​Dating w Midlands

Creepy couple in the woods.

2020.04.29 20:08 masonlowe03 Creepy couple in the woods.

So to begin this event took place in Summer 2019 in England more specifically the Midlands. At the time of this story I was 15 (Male) and was with three other friends all 15 and male also. Me and 3 friends who I will call: James, Brad and Ryan for the purpose of this story were bored with nothing to do. Most of our friends had long gone inside and the time was probably around 6-7pm. We were near a small stretch of woods that was near a road and had a nice path to walk along with a stream. After walking and conversing for maybe 10 minutes we stopped at a bench to rest and just play some music and enjoy the last of the heat as the night began to draw in, not like dark but just around the time before sunset when the sky gets the nice orange hue.
After sitting and chatting for maybe 15 minutes with no sign of anyone else on the short trail an old couple come walking past us. The woman had a long skirt on (down to her shoes) and one of those old women's hats from like the 40's. I can't remember anything distinctive about her face except that she seemed maybe around 60-70 at most years old and very grey and dull in looks. The man seemed slightly older than the woman a cream shirt on, old jeans and work boots and a cane in one hand. They had their arms interlocked and seemed at most ordinary apart from the clothing and such which seemed quite dated.
We were sat on a small bench that could fit three people maximum on it therefore Me Ryan and Brad sat on the bench with James on the opposite side of the path sat on the floor facing us. Now just to point out which becomes somewhat important soon Brad is of Indian decent and the rest of us were white British. As the couple were to pass through us James had to bring his legs in to let them pass however the man seemed somewhat mad about this and almost scoffed as he walked by James. Understandably James what confused and a little offended by this and in a half assertive half joking way said "Alright mate no need for that". The couple seemed to ignore it and carried on down the hill now this is where things get creepy.
We brushed this off as an old man grumpy at the world trying to seem like hero to his wife and expected them to just move along but this did not happen. As they reached the bottom of the hill his head did almost a full 90 degree quick snap to face us and with the most menacing look in his face charged up the hill now the strangest part is a full 60 seconds had at least passed and now he was pissed? It made no sense like all of a sudden my friend's slight remark had clicked in his brain? He also dropped his cane much to his Wife's despair and walked almost double his previous speed UPHILL we were truly baffled and maybe expected a stern talking to and to an extent that's what we got from him at least the usual Old man stuff "You kids have no respect" and "You should watch out you don't know us I have grandkids your ages" ect and as quickly as he said all this he walked back down the hill retrieved the cane and began staring at us from the bottom of the hill alongside his wife.
Then this is where things took a drastic turn. The man then stood there almost huffing and puffing like an angry toddler and his Wife saw this as her turn to make the approach as he stood (for the whole time after this by the way) staring at us not blinking barley moving just staring, His wife made her way back up the incline and began speaking to us. She seemed even more delusional and even incoherent in the way she acted and spoke. Most of the stuff was the same as her husband until she took a huge interest in Brad. Remember how I said he was of Indian decent? She looked him dead in the eyes and said "You're different to all of these aren't you?" with an almost evil half grin Brad was taken aback and said "Sorry, is that racist?" She shot back almost instantly with a "Oh no no no, I just mean you're different you are the chosen one!" I know weird and almost cliché sounding right? At this we were all shocked and began shooting each other concerned and confused half glances and then she began waving into the trees behind the bench where us three were sitting her eyes frantically darting from point to point and waving almost methodically in motion as she exclaimed loudly and almost proudly "It's okay you don't need to watch them anymore" "It's fine you don't need to come out now you can stay there" at this we all turned around rapidly to see no one or nothing behind us and at that she shot Brad one more deep stare and started on her walk again. The old man had been staring the whole time they met at the bottom of the hill, interlocked arms and turned the corner.
We were all feeling all types of emotions now and really didn't know what to do. The woods on either sides of the path was thick. So thick in fact even teens couldn't enter it let alone OAP's so there was only one place they could've gone which was followed the path on. Ryan had the smart idea to see where they went so no less than 20 seconds after they rounded the corner we followed at an almost running walk speed and got to the end of the trail but no sign of them? At the end of the trail led to 3 directions left (into an alley and a shop with a dead end) right (onto the start of a busy road with nothing to see) and straight (into a cul-de-sack that also had a dead end right at the bottom.) Me and Brad went straight Ryan went left and James went right but you guessed it, They were gone. How?
We met up in disbelief and shock and confusion and everything inbetween.
The sun was now pulling in and we needed to make our way home and therefore that's what we did and on the way home was at least a 20-30 minute walk half paranoid we would see them again but not really flustered.
It's now been like half a year and we'd all forgotten about these people and never seen them again but after reading some of the stories and here and similar places and hearing them on YouTube it reminded me of that evening and I thought you guys would like to hear it. Thanks for sticking this far and If you have any ideas or questions please leave them in the comments!
submitted by masonlowe03 to LetsNotMeet [link] [comments]


2018.10.10 01:16 October_Citrus Weather Event: Major Hurricane Michael

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Hurricane Michael
Latest News:
  • Michael reaches Category 3 strength as it continues northward. A combination of satellite imagery analysis and aerial reconnaissance data continue to show that Hurricane Michael is strengthening and becoming more organized as it moves toward the north-northwest across the eastern Gulf of Mexico. Infrared imagery and upper-level analysis have shown that westerly vertical wind shear has begun to decrease, though it is still having some effect on the cyclone's structure. Over the past several hours, a dense ring of deep convection has begun to wrap around the western periphery of the now visible eye. Water vapor imagery indicates that the cyclone's upper-level outflow has become more expansive, but is strongest across the northern and eastern sides of the circulation. Intensity estimates derived from aerial reconnaissance data collected by NOAA and U.S. Air Force Reserve missions indicate that Michael's maximum sustained winds have increased to 95 knots (110 miles per hour), falling just short of Category 3 strength.
  • Michael will peak at Category 3 strength before landfall. Hurricane Michael is currently moving through an improving atmospheric and oceanic environment characterized by gradually decreasing vertical wind shear (10 to 15 knots), a deep pool of warm sea waters (28.5 to 29.5ºC), moderate mid-level moisture (65 to 70% relative humidity), and strong upper-level diffluence introduced by the presence of a deep-layer trough to the west. As vertical wind shear continues to gradually decrease over the next day or so, Michael is expected to continue to strengthen, reaching a peak of 110 knots (125 miles per hour) by tomorrow morning, falling just short of Category 4 strength.
  • Model guidance continues to be in close agreement for Michael's track. Hurricane Michael continues to move toward the north-northwest at 10 knots. The cyclone is situated between two deep-layer large-scale features—a deep-layer mid-latitude trough situated to the west and a deep-layer ridge situated to the east. These two features will work together to steer Michael toward the north over the next several hours but as the deep-layer trough to the west continues to push eastward, it will nudge Michael onto a more north-northeastward track through landfall along the Florida Panhandle on Wednesday afternoon and then on an increasingly northeastward track as the cyclone moves over the southeastern United States on Wednesday and Thursday.
Expected Impacts:
Hurricane Michael is forecast to be the strongest hurricane to make landfall along the Florida Panhandle since Hurricane Dennis in 2005. The cyclone is expected to bring a multitude of damaging and life-threatening impacts to the region, including wind, rainfall, storm surge, and surf. It is extremely important that residents in the affected areas take the necessary precautions as soon as possible and heed the advice of local officials.
STORM SURGE: Storm surge is an oft-ignored, yet extremely dangerous impact that hurricanes can have along coastlines. A combination of storm surge and the tide will cause sea levels to rise along the coastline and will push large amounts of water inland. Storm surge watches and warnings are currently in effect along the Florida Panhandle and the western coastline of the Florida Peninsula. Storm surge forecasts range anywhere from 2 to 4 feet along the outer fringes of this advisory area to as high as 8 to 12 feet between Indian Pass and Cedar Key, Florida.
RAINFALL: Heavy rainfall associated with Hurricane Michael will bring the potential for life-threatening flash-flooding to inland areas not already affected by heavy surf and significant storm surge. Western Cuba is expected to see 4 to 8 inches of rainfall total, with some isolated areas seeing as much as 12 inches. By Tuesday, heavy rainfall will extend up the western coastline of the Florida Peninsula and then along the Gulf Coast from Mississippi to Florida on Wednesday. Areas along the western coastline of the Florida Peninsula and the Florida Keys could see as much as 2 to 4 inches with isolated maxima of 6 inches. Areas across southeastern Alabama, Georgia, the Florida Panhandle, and South Carolina are expected to see up to 4 to 8 inches of rainfall, with isolated maxima of 12 inches.
WINDS: It goes without saying that a major hurricane will bring significant wind impacts to the affected areas. Tropical storm conditions are expected to continue over the Cuban province of Isle of Youth for the next several hours. As Michael heads north, areas along the western coastline of the Florida Peninsula could see some tropical storm conditions as early as Tuesday evening. Tropical storm conditions will spread to the Gulf Coast extending from the LA/MS border to the western coastline of the Florida Peninsula overnight on Tuesday. Hurricane conditions are expected to continue for the western Cuba province of Pinar del Rio throughout the day on Tuesday and will extend to the Florida Panhandle (from the AL/FL border to the Suwannee River) on Wednesday morning. These strong winds will make it exceedingly difficult to complete preparations for the storm.
SURF: Hurricane Michael is already producing large swells that have been affecting the southern coastline of Cuba and the eastern coastline of the Yucatan Peninsula for the past couple of days. These impacts will spread to the Gulf Coast of Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida over the next couple of days. Life-threatening surf and rip current conditions are expected and damaging waves could create significant impacts to life and property along the immediately coastline.

Below are current infographics, discussions, and predictions issued by the NHC concerning this subtropical system Hurricane Michael, current as of 900 PM (UTC) Tuesday, October 9, 2018.

Hurricane Michael Public Advisory Number 13 as of 4:00 PM CDT, Tuesday, October 9, 2018.
Hurricane Michael Forecast Advisory Number 13 as of 4:00 PM CDT, Tuesday, October 9, 2018.
Hurricane Michael Forecast Discussion Number 13 as of 4:00 PM CDT, Tuesday, October 9, 2018.
Hurricane Michael Key Messages as of 4:00 PM CDT, Tuesday, October 9, 2018.
Hurricane Michael Graphics as of 4:00 PM CDT, Tuesday, October 9, 2018.
Hurricane Michael Surface Wind Speed Graphic as of 4:00 PM CDT, Tuesday, October 9, 2018.
Hurricane Michael Tropical-Storm-Force Wind Speed Probabilities Graphic as of 4:00 PM CDT, Tuesday, October 9, 2018.
Hurricane Michael Most Likely Arrival Time of Tropical-Storm-Force Winds Graphic as of 4:00 PM CDT, Tuesday, October 9, 2018.
Hurricane Michael Storm Surge Inundation Map as of 4:00 PM CDT, Tuesday, October 9, 2018.
Hurricane Michael Interactive Map as of 4:00 PM CDT, Tuesday, October 9, 2018.
submitted by October_Citrus to cordcutters [link] [comments]


2017.09.28 16:36 TheJesseClark What Really Happened to Andersonsburg, Pennsylvania, in April 1829

Perhaps you've heard of Andersonsburg - the old western Pennsylvanian town, that, like Roanoke before it, suffered a mysterious end and left no accounted survivors to enlighten anyone as to the details of its fate. Luckily that may no longer be the case; I've joined a University-funded expedition here, and have been tasked with collecting items of value that can hopefully assist in our search for knowledge pertaining to the curious fate of the city. After some exhausting work, I did indeed come across a Diary that is by far the most informative document yet unearthed. I'll check the contents for veracity at a later date. For now, here are the most relevant excerpts for anyone interested:
3 April 1829
Another man caught the Fever, this time down at the lumber camp. From what I hear the poor bastard was tying down the logs when he just up and fell right over into the river. Almost drowned, I heard, and when the others got to him, Matthew and Thomas and the lot, they said his face had gone pale as a cloud, and that he was shakin,’ and sweating and coughing. Ain’t no mistaking that for nothing but the early signs o’ the Fever. So they hauled the poor fellow out and gave him a canteen and had him rest, but then without telling him, they struck camp and left ‘im there. I'm not sure what came of him. But everyone here knows the Mayor’s rule - none struck with Fever are permitted to return to Andersonsburg. If they're favored enough to survive the thing, unlikely as that sounds, they're to remain banished to the woods with nothing but the clothes on their backs and whatever coin they gots in their purse. Not a one of the other lads down at the camp wanted to risk becoming an Infected and meeting such a grisly fate. No, sir.
4 April, 1829
By mayor’s decree: the lumber camp is to be abandoned, along with all the supplies it's gathered, for fear of being tainted with Fever. There was an uproar at the Mansion today over the decision. Many men are out of work now because of it; but strange enough, I didn’t see not a one of the fellows from the camp itself down at the Mansion; just their wives and some others. And I know why, too. They wouldn’t admit it aloud - no, sir - but they don’t wanna go back. I wouldn’t either. I've seen the Fever at work at Pinefield, and it ain't got no place in my home. Not while I got a wife at home. No, sir.
7 April 1829
Maria says to me today in the kitchen: “Paul, I can’t believe the Mayor’d throw so many good men out of jobs!” But I says back to’er: “Dunno, Sweetheart. Perhaps he’s got himself a point. That ol’ camp’s been run clean over with Fever. And you don’t want that Plague finding its way round here, no, sir. God ‘Imself couldnt’ stop it if it did.” So she snorts and walks away. But she’ll come ‘round eventually. ‘Specially when the stories of the Infected keep comin.’
If Fever’s hit the camp, then its only a good two or three miles from town. Only a matter of time, I think, before it finds its way here. God above, I hope I’m wrong, but maybe I should start thinking bout taking Maria away for a time, though, to see my brother in Philadelphia. Just til all the foul things conclude here.
11 April, 1829
A man got shot last night, not a hundred yards from Jim Isley’s porch. Jim says he was delirious, just stumbling about near the treeline without an aim in the world. He calls out to ‘im an he says, “Declare yourself! You’s an Iroquois? I’ll shoot you dead if you an Iroquois, ol’ boy!” And he said nothin,’ so shoot ‘im he did. Then Jim sent his boy Nathan into town to fetch a picket while he watched the field, thinking an Indian attack was brewin.’ But when Nathan got back with some of the men and their rifles looking for a good fight, not another Indian had shown his face. So they went out and looked at the body, and saw it was something worse: that old Infected fellow from the lumber camp. Found his way back to town in his stupor, and by God, says the men, the Fever worked its way through him right quick. Says he was rotting inside-out, skin falling off like a Leper. Teeth all filed into those wicked points. So they puts up their shirts to their noses and mouths and they set the body to the flame.
They told the story today at the Pub, but some o’ the other gents there took offense to the tale. Says they shoulda told the Mayor, says they shouldn’ta gone near the corpses. One fellow, Tom Huggins, I think he was, said those men were probably Infected, too, by virtue of going near even a dead Infected. Says the Plague lingers after death. Then he bolts out the door, and the barkeep asks the storytellers to leave. I left, too. Ain’t no risking getting the Fever. No, sir.
15 April, 1829.
Jim Isley didn’t show up at the Office today. And all the men there knows the story with the Infected fellow getting shot, too. So the rumors are swirlin.’ No one’s heard from him. His clients are stopping on by and alls we can say is ‘we ain’t seen the fellow, come on by later on.’ So they do, but they ain’t happy about it. No, sir. I like ol’ Jim, even if he’s a little small-brained, so I says to myself I think I’ll stop on by his house after closin,’ to see what’s the matter. I know I shouldn’t, but if he’s sick I’ll know for sure and I won’t go near the man.
I just hope it ain’t the Fever. God above, I hope it ain’t the Fever.
So I gets to his house at roundabout dusk and his wife Sarah opens up the door. She’s a sweetheart, she is, but even though she’s putting on a nice big smile for her guest I can tells she’s got a worry on her mind. So I put my hat to my chest an I says, “Greetings, ma’am. Just stopping on by to extend my regards to Jim. He didn’t show up at the Office today, y’see, and I was hoping I could see him.” Then her smile fades and she says “That’s mighty kind of you, Paul, but Jim’s been under the weather and he won’t let neither me nor Nathan in the bedroom. Alls I know is he’s sweating and having trouble keeping down a meal.” Then my smile fades, an I says without a second thought, “Sarah, I’m guessing you heard bout the guest a half-week back? The man Jim shot?” And she says, “The Iroquois scout! Jim says he shot ‘im dead.” So I says, “Sarah, that weren’t no Iroquois scout. That was the Infected feller from the Lumber camp. Jim and some other fellers burned the body once they saw the skin.” And her face goes white as a ghost and she just says “Don’t you lie to me! Don’t you lie to me about my Jim!” And she goes and shuts the door in my face! I hope she gets her wits about her and gets Nathan out of there soon. He’s a good lad, and she’s got a big kindly heart herself. They don’t deserve this. As luck would have it, though, I ran across Doctor Armistead on the way home, an I tells him about Jim. Maybe he can help.
16 April, 1829.
Maria wakes me up earlier to-day and she says, “The Isley’s are gone! The Isley’s are gone!” And I’m tired so at first I don’t know what nonsense she’s talkin.’ But then I remember Jim and Sarah and Nathan, and I says, “What you mean, gone? Dead, gone?” And she says, “No! The Doctor says Jim’s got the Fever, Paul, and so a few men grabbed their muskets and they haul the whole Isley family out their house and toss ‘em right out the whole town! Some of the men says, if they ever come back, they’ll shoot ‘em dead.”
So I feels right guilty for ratting ‘em out and I throws my covers off and I run outside and down the street. Sure enough, the Isley home’s gone up in a smoke! The whole towns out there watching it burn without a pity, except the Parish, and when I run up I hears people talking about anyone else who’d been in contact with that body of the fellow down at the Lumber camp. Then I hears the other names come up: David Brody, John Greene, Will Benson Hodges. The townsfolk say they’ve gotta find ‘em an give ‘em the boot, or else the whole town’ll get the Fever! One lass says “Why don’t we just shoot ‘em?” An another fellow says back to her, “Then we’d have to remove the corpse. Wouldn’t wanna go near such a thing, would you? The Plague lingers. Better to have ‘em walk right on out on their own two feet.”
But I thinks to myself hell, that's almost worse.
18 April 1829.
The town’s all done over in a hysteria, I tell ya. The Mayor’s declared martial law ever since the Isley’s and the Brody’s and the Greenes and the Hodges got evicted, and not a soul is to enter Andersonsburg until further notice. You can leave and he won’t stop ya. But you ain’t coming back if you do, and the townsfolk’ll assume your departure means you been struck with Plague. Then they’ll burn your home to ash. I’ve seen it happen ten times in the last few days alone. These boys ain’t playin games, no, sir. There are some o’ them religious folks talking about how its God’s judgment for sin, and other fellows with muskets patroling the streets, and every once in awhile you’ll hear a big ol’ loud crack! as he pops off his gun.
Cause that’s the other thing, y’see. Them Infected keep trying to get back in.
20 April 1829.
Some o’ the Infected stormed in down Mulberry Street last night. Stole some cattle, rattled some doorknobs. But the militia showed up right quick and drove ‘em off with some sharp musketry. They didn’t kill any of ‘em until after they’d run out past the wooden palisades. Then they shot ‘em in the back and dropped ‘em like a sack o’ potatoes, says they.
The men have orders only to wound, if possible, y’see, if the Infected make it inside the town. That’s seeing as how a dead Infected in the streets is a corpse some poor bastard’ll have to remove. And then he’s struck with Fever too, far as the town’s concerned, and they send him a packin.’ Needless to say not a man woman or child in Andersonsburg's willing to volunteer for such a job. So the Mayor says to the militia captain, he says, “If them infected find their way in here, you get ‘em out some way other than killin ‘em dead, y’hear? I ain’t aimin’ to have to pick a poor lad to take the bodies out and take himself out the same way. No, sir.”
24 April 1829.
The Mayor let in a visitor today. Some o’ the townsfolk down at the Hall threw up a good fit over that, but the man had something to say, so in he comes. He meets with the Mayor and from what I heard from Phil Gables, he told the Mayor the Infected have thrown in their numbers and overrun the nearest town over west. That place - Lesterburg - was in a similar spot to us: rooting out the Infected, burning their homes. Barricades had gone up, the milita’d been mobilized. All the same, the Infected, hungry for flesh, swept in out of the woods one night and overran the barricades and the watch towers and killed every last person in the town. Except for this feller - Charles Gates or something or other - he was the last man alive, and he ran all the way here to tell us that horde is heading up this way, not two days out.
So now the town’s gotta figure out what’s to be done. Some people think the feller’s lying to get himself a bite to eat. Others think we should all leave for Philadelphia while the leavin’s good. Others think we can take on the horde. Lesterburg was half the size of Andersonsburg, after all, says they. We have more men, more muskets. We could beat ‘em. But its all up to the Mayor now.
25 April 1829
The Mayor elected to stand and fight, but said that anyone who sought to flee was welcome to do so, o‘course. Got himself a nice round of applause, and then the men, myself among ‘em, set about collecting arms and bullets and building up the barricades in the streets and setting up wood towers for the lookouts. If these Infected aim to have a fight, a fight they shall have.
According to Charles, we should expect the horde to come up from the Southwest near the Pike, sometime in the next twelve or so hours. Said there were uncountable hundreds of ‘em, all rotting away and thirsty for blood and crawling like beasts. We’ve got ourselves a good two hundred forty men and muskets and rounds enough for maybe a hundred eighty of ‘em. Add to that number thirty good sharp-shooting rifles for the marksmen in the towers, and even two twelve-pounders overlooking the pike from two angles, and we gots ourselves a fine force to defend the town with. But I can see it in everyone’s eyes: a mist of fear.
Tonight I’ll spend the evening with Maria, and we’ll do what the two of us can to take our mind off things. By the door is my musket, o’course, and in my satchel all the ammunition I could find. Should I hear the church bells go off at any point, I’ll have no choice but to grab the gun, kiss Maria one last time, perhaps, and rush out to the Southwest barricade to do some fightin.’
If the church bells ring a second time, though, everyone knows what that means: the Infected have broken on through. Then it's time to hit the road to Philadelphia. So I tells Maria to keep our valuables packed.
26 April 1829
To-day I took a good stroll out at the edge of town. We’ve got ourselves a good palisade. Some of the boys at the Northwestern edge even dug themselves a trench, and the whole of the militia, even Captain Gaines, have elected ol’ Booker Downes to lead the defense, seeing as he fought with the mountaineers in the Indian wars and got himself some experience. So he rounds up some horses and dispatches a rider to Philadelphia to call up some help, and then two more riders with orders to scout the outskirts of town - one to the west to spot the horde and the other elsewhere to ensure they ain't coming up from nowhere’s else - and report back what they find no later than mid-afternoon. So off they all go, and the rest of the lads get back to the job of fixing up defenses.
By now we scrounged up a good twelve more muskets and forty or so pistols and every blade we can find. The butcher was kind enough to lend us some cutlery, and in the town armory Briggs and I bagged up a few score rusty bayonets and distributed them evenly along the front. We got ourselves an army now, boys. I only hope it lasts the night.
Still no word from the scouts. Downes is getting nervous, so he goes and he sends off another two riders and says “You lads go no more than a mile out, y’hear? Then come on back to me.” So off they go.
One of the new scouts came a-galloping on back in, and he's huffing and puffing and he says to Downes, “They ain't just coming up from the west, sir. Spotted a good lot of ‘em in the Northwest, too, and the north, and they gots themselves horses! A whole mess of ‘em!” And Downes says “Whatd’ya mean, horses? Like they’s eaten ‘em?” And the scout says, “no sir, they’s ridin’ ‘em. Like cavalry. Dead looking things, rottin' skin, with the same red eyes as those Infected folk. And they making speed, sir! They makin’ damn good speed!”
And no sooner does he say that then the Church bell rings. And I look up, and all the men looks up, and we see young Johnny Billings up there, and he’s waving his arms and shouting somethin fierce and pointing off to the West. So we looks to the west. And there they are, all’ve sudden, a whole mess o’ them Infected comin up out of the treeline and runnin up the hill towards the barricade. So we all rush up to the wall and take aim, and Downes says to fire the twelve pounders. So they fire - BOOM! BOOM! - and a good few of those Infected go’s a-flying. But then more are coming, and more and more.
So then the marksmen open up fire from the towers and they're picking the bastards off as best they can. But the horde gets closer and closer. Soon they's in musket range, so me and the boys fire a volley, and when we reload the boys behind us fire, and then the boys behind them. We three lines deep at the choke-points. And pretty soon we got Infected piling up right quick not fifty yards off. Dead and more dead and more. But the rest of ‘em keep right on climbing over the pile o’ the dead ones and keep right on coming, and we keep right on shooting.
But then the infected did something I ain’t seen yet. Far as I could tell beforehand, the Fever keeps you from thinking straight, and then you’re just not thinking at all; you just a mindless thing with rotten skin that eats and kills. But today, after a good ten or twelve minutes of fighting, the horde got up and the whole lot of ‘em actually fell back. Now that says to me a number o’things, things discussed openly as the men set about reloading and fetching water in the interim - that means these things are thinkin.’ They knew they couldn’t break our lines and so they retreated back towards the trees. They ain’t done - we can still see their damned red eyes glowing through the shroud of trees, but they fell back. Maybe they’s scared?
The Infected haven’t tried another all out assault yet. Commander Downes thinks they’s waiting for nightfall so they can slip in unseen, so he had a handful of boys from each of the regiments head out to the killing fields and throw up lamps while some others stood guard. When sunlight starts to fall we’ll have other boys run out with torches and light those lamps, and the hope is we can keep the fields lit for shooting throughout the night. We gots’ closer lamps, too, that can be lit from behind the barricade without having to send men out all exposed.
Sun’s coming on down. We can still see them damn Infected in the trees, and we hear rustling and footsteps and Commander Downes says they’s likely to be bringing up reinforcements for another push. Billie’s got a fine ear, and he says he can even hear ‘em talkin,’ out there. Grunting and stuff. Probably planning their next move. Meanwhile the boys on this side of the palisades have been reinforcing the barriers.
Still no word from the other three scouts. But we ain’t holding our breath on their return.
Round about eight o’clock we heard some shooting at the Northwest barrier, so Commander Downes sends me and Butler and Payton out to see if they need help. So we get there and the boys said the things had tried crawlin through the tall grass for cover and were only about a hundred some-odd feet from the palisade when the boys spotted ‘em and started shootin.’ So we goes back to Downes an tells him, and he calls up a Council of War with the regiment heads and says that given that and the retreat from earlier, its clear the Infected are smarter than we thought. Made a point to say that no weapons could fall into their hands. Not under any circumstances. No, sir.
No we all’s still waiting on that big night-time push.
Sure enough as hell, those Infected bastards made a second big charge against all the barricades at the same time, sometime before midnight. Damn near caught us with our pants ‘round the ankles, too. We hear rifle cracks from the marksmens’ towers and then the twelve-pounders fire off, and then a flurry of musket fire from the Northwest. Then they hit us twice as hard as they did before, and we’re firing volley after volley into ‘em, stacked up three lines deep to keep the musketballs flying. And they’re hitting the dirt an bits and pieces of ‘em are flying, but still they keep on coming.
Then they start hitting back, even though they’re still a good fifty yards to the palisade. They bring up rocks and start flinging ‘em towards us. Fistfulls of gravel flying in through the musket smoke, and they peppering the boys and knocking teeth loose. Men start to yelp when they get hit. And them twelve-pounders are firing away, too - BOOM! BOOM! - every couple o’minutes, and that tears big groups of ‘em down. But they kept on coming till they was right up at the palisade, and Commander Downes told the front row to start up with their bayonets and blades and tomahawks. I remember how close the bastards came to taking a big ol’ bite outta my neck. Luckily ol’ Bruce knicked the sumbitch with a bayonet to the head and he keeled over. Not long after that the Infected retreated again.
But now we gots a fresh problem: we got casualties. Men are bit, men made contact with Plague, and so now we gots to do what we all knew we’d have to do. Get rid of the infected. Commander Downes rides up and he takes a good, long look at this one poor lad, arm bleeding from a bite, and he tells him to head out and relight the torches. The boy looked all forlorn, like he knew what was happening, but he weren’t about to disobey orders. So out he goes, and as soon as he lights the torch, Downes has one of the men fire on the poor lad. He dropped like a stone, dead ‘fore he hit the ground. That one hurt us all, I think.
But we wasn’t done, neither. Some o’ the other men got touched by Fever, too, and so me and the rest o’ the boys backs up and levels some pistols at ‘em and we asks Commander Downes, “What do we do with ‘em, sir?” An he says, “You know what we do. We send ‘em away.” So at gun point we show the men to the gate, and they’re begging and they’re pleading, but we gots no choice. So out they go, and we say we’ll fire at ‘em unless they get as far away from town as they can. We all knew what was coming, and sure enough as soon as they got near the woods, Infected ran out and dragged ‘em in. We all watched ‘till the screaming stopped and the bushes quit their shakin.’ Few o’ the men here got sick. Others cried. I just wrote it all down. God above, I hope Maria’s as far from this hell as possible.
27 April, 1829.
We slept in shifts last night, and luckily there weren’t any other attempts by the Infected to rush the barricades. But we’re tired, the lot of us. Damn hell, we’re tired. I’d be amazed if any man got a lick of real rest. We was silent, but we stayed up and we listened good to the sound of Infected howling out there in the woods. There were thousands of ‘em, it sounded like, filling up the whole night sky with the din o’ their big, collective war-scream. Lasted for an hour, maybe more.
One o’ the boys nearest me was praying along all night, begging for the good Lord to come down and save us. I asked him to put in a good word for me, too.
This morning some of the wives pitched in with medical aid and a big, hearty breakfast. So we ate well, and Commander Downes allowed us to spend time with our families. Maria and I took a nice stroll, but I didn’t have much to say. By mid-day I was back at the palisade with the other men, and by sun-down we were starting to hear the Infected getting riled up again, hearing that awful howlin.’
Downes and his aides were riding back and forth, making sure the walls were good and solid, the cannons reloaded and manned, and the belltower watch was keepin’ his eye out. And this time we gots’ some o’ the younger boys to run ammo up and down where its neede-
Shooting started. Will update if possible.
God above. God help us. The Infected hit us at all sides, all at once. Them cannon’s were firing like mad, and Commander Downes was telling ‘em, “Aim for the trees! Aim for the trees!” So they did, and after a few rounds they’d managed to dam off the entry points and slow down the horde. But it weren’t more than a stopgap. Them Infected were running through the musket smoke, howling and screaming for food. Some of ‘em were galloping towards the walls on all fours and you could see the red of their eyes, like pooling blood. Jim Isley was one of ‘em, and I had to be the poor bastard to put ‘im down for good. I’m sorry, Jim. Truly, I am.
But they kept right on comin!’ The boys were firing wildly and chopping and stabbing and screaming, and them Infected was doing the same and trying to mount the palisades. And then, just when there weren’t a lick more we could take, we heard some o’ the men screaming from down south of us. We wasn’t aware we were even threatened there, but sure ‘nuff, them Infected bastards had broken on through some of the pickets and were trying to break in through the windows o’ the houses. So Commander Downes sent me and five other gents to go and put a stop to that. We burst in through the houses and stabbed ‘em through the windows and traded shots for rocks over barrels. I got all good and cut up from the exploding glass windows, but I ain’t been bit. Not yet.
So we put a stop to them coming in that way, but when I got back I explained to Downes real good that they were gonna try that again, sooner or later, and we needed a good force o’men to guard up there. Turns out he’d gotten similar reports from other parts o’ town, though, and so we’d have to stretch our lines real thin to cover it all up. But we did what we had to, and by God we held the line all around the town by the skin of our teeth. Some o’ the men - God above - grown men, they’re just cryin.’ They’re so damn tired, and scared. We all are. But we held the line - by God we did. Ain’t a man here who didn’t do his duty.
28-29 April, 1829.
To-day the women and children helped us all build a new defensive line to-wards the center of town. Downes says that if we get hit again like we did last night, we’d have these new palisades and trenches to fall back on. I worked with Maria to-day digging away. She tended to my wounds, too, and we just enjoyed each other’s company as we worked. I even got some shut-eye, some real good shut-eye, if not but for an hour or two. Then it was sun-down again. The boys and I ate up a stew the women cooked up, and then we were off to the palisades.
Them wooden posts were beaten and worn, too. We knew we couldn’t stay for long. And as soon as the Howling started from the trees, Commander Downes ordered the twelve pounders be stripped and rushed to the inner line of defense so they’d be ready if it gets bad. Or when it gets bad, I suppose I’ll say.
I made sure to kiss Maria real good tonight, and made her promise to make a good run for it if those church bells rang twice - which now meant the inner line’d been breached. She cried and nodded. I wanted to tell her that if she had to run, I’d meet her at Joseph’s house in Philadelphia. But alls I could bring myself to say aloud was, “You run straight for Joesph’s, you hear? Don’t you stop.” ‘Cause Lord, and I’m tearing up just writing this down, I don’t know if I’ll last the night.
Hell, I dunno if anyone here’ll last the night.
We at the inner line of defense now. We ain’t been hit that hard since the battle started. God above, it was a bloody mess - the rush started off with some Infected leaping outta them woods and tackling the lamps into the ground. The glass broke and all the dry weeds go in a flame. Soon the fire smoke and the musket smoke made it so we couldn’t see a damn thing out there; all’s we could hear were the howlin’! Musta been a thousand o’ the bastards tonight. Maybe more.
So we’d been shooting for a good while, and hacking and throwing rocks, an then we heard the commotion up at the other wall, and boy we knew it weren’t no small thing. There were men screaming and the shooting altogether stopped up there. So we knew they were done for, and Commander Downes rides up to us and he says, “The Northwest Palisade is breached! Fall back to the inner line! Fall back!” And so me and the boys pick up our guns and beat a fighting retreat down the Boulevard towards the inner walls. Then them Infected started pouring over the palisades, and we knew there weren’t no throwing ‘em back. Not this time.
So we get’s back to the inner palisade and we start right up again, shooting and firing those twelve pounders, boy, and them Infected are coming at us from e’ry side now. Howling the whole way, burning up and’ getting shot all up but still running at us. Now we gots kids in the camp, and I can hear the little lads and lasses putting up a good cry even over the din of the fight, an I thinks, how’s it we ain’t sent them little ones off to Philadelphia? How’s they still here? Maybe its because Downes thinks their being here will inspire us, y’know, to fight even harder.
Anyways. After ‘bout a good more hour or two o’ shooting and stabbin,’ the horde dwindles a bit, and that’s when Briggs see’s it - one o’ them Infected mounted up on a dead horse, looking down on the town from atop the wooded hill north o’town. We only saw his silhouette and those red eyes peering at us through all the smoke and flame, but he’s there, right as rain. Briggs points and we all look, and we gotta catch our breath in our throats. Them Infected got themselves a general, from the looks’ve it. He’s just sitting up there, watching his Plague-runners set the town ablaze.
Not too long after that some sunlight comes up o’er the church tower, and then the horde falls back. But we don’t know how far; we don’t know if they’s ran back to the trees, or if they’s still inside the town, staying in our houses til’ dark. Downes says we can’t spare a-nobody to go and takes a look. So here we stay, here in the inner palisade by the edge of town. And we waits for nightfall. And that Infected up on the horse.
29 April, 1829
So I got some sleep this afternoon. Not a whole hell of a lot, but a better amount than none. First thing I did when I woke was help count ammo. We’s almost clean out; maybe ten rounds a man, and now we’s only got seventy men or so. And them twelve pounders is almost out, too. They only has maybe twelve balls left to shoot between the two of ‘em. And none of the riders have gotten back, neither, so we ain’t got no reinforcements comin.’
So Briggs and I, and Payton and Short, we goes up to Commander Downes and we says, “Sir, we almost out of men and ammo, and we got lil' ones here, sir, and our wives! And the town’s all up in flames, sir. There ain’t nothing left for us here. Not for a one of us. We should make a run for Philadelphia while we still gots’ daylight.” But he says back, “I ain’t never left the enemy in command of the field. We stay, and we fight.” And he rides off! Now I ain’t no mutineer - Lord above knows I done my duty - but I ain’t aiming to die for the principle of it. Not when I gots my Maria here, and no town left to defend.
So I talks to some o’ the men and women and lay it out for ‘em. And I says, “Look here, boys. We ain’t lasting another night and if we do, what’ll come of us in the next one? We gots to get out while we still can. The road to Philadelphia’s still open, and we still gots ourselves enough daylight to get outta the woods and to the open road before nightfall.” An the majority of ‘em nod and we take a vote. The motion to leave is the clear winner.
So we get our things and we tells Commander Downes, “We’s leavin,’ sir. There ain’t nothing here left for us and we ain’t aiming to die for a pile o’ rubble.” An he gets red in the face and he says back, “I’ll have the lot o’ you hanged for treason!” And he calls up his boys - bout half the men left with their muskets and he says, “you lot arrest them mutineers, y’hear?” And so they advance, and we level our muskets to repel ‘em back. But before any shots are fired, one of the women in the Church points down the road heading off to the Southeast and she says, “Look! One o’ the scout’s is riding in!” So we all turns an look and sure enough, ol’ David Benjamin’s puling up into town, an he looks like hell itself.
He says, “Water, water!” And so we gives him a canteen, and then he says, “I was coming up with a column o’ state militia from the midland, alls the help I could muster up, but them Infecteds - they’re everywhere! All over the road, out in force. I swears they was lying in wait for the lot of us, like an ambush, and they leapt down on the main road and just tore into the poor lads. They didn’t have a chance. I’m the only man who made it back; I needs to tells y’all that the road to Philadelphia is blocked!”
So now the whole damn town’s in a panic. We’s surrounded by the Plague, and there ain’t no way out. And not a minute ago, while I was writing this here entry, someone points up to the hill north o’town an they says, “There’s the horseman!” And we all look and there he is - that Plague Rider, eyeing the town with that wicked red stare o’his, and that of his horse, and we see’s he’s got a whole wretched host of other Infected Riders. And then they started moving right on down the mountain towards us.
Then the Howling started, and just now - the church bells started to ring. I know it in my bones I ain’t surviving this night. They coming at us from all sides now. And I’m holding Maria tight, and she’s crying, too, and alls we can hear’s the wailing of the little ones from the church, and the shouts of the boys as they run up to the Palisade with their guns, and the wheeling forward of the cannon. So I gave Maria a kiss, and I’m leaving this here diary in her possession. I love you, darling. I love you, and I hope you know that.
29 April, 1829
Paul has gone off to the palisades. He’s scared. I am too. We all are, but we’ve gotta be strong for the children here in the back of the church. The other women and I have tended to the lot of them since the men fell back to the inner line of defense, which I helped to build, and at least half of them have the Fever. Of that I’m now sure. But it no longer matters, does it? They won’t live to see themselves be taken by it, and perhaps that’s a merciful thing.
The shooting has started. The boys are throwing in everything they’ve got, God bless the lot of them - but I can tell its not enough. We’ve but an hour left, maybe less - before the Infected make it to the church. The children here have cried themselves empty, and now they're huddling around myself and the other women and clutching our dresses and burying their faces in our laps. I’m as afraid as any of them. But I can’t let them see that. I can’t.
The church bells are ringing again, and the men just outside - the thirty or so of them left (I’ve no idea if Paul is among them) - sound exhausted and panicked. The cannons have long since stopped firing, likely having expended their ammunition. Only periodically do I hear a musket blast. Paul was explaining earlier that they’d nearly run out of bullets last night. I can’t imagine they’ve found many more.
I hear galloping now, coming up from the west. Its not the state militia. Its that Plague Rider. I can hear him - I know its him. I know it. He commands these beasts. He grunts and shouts, and they listen. They’re only a few yards from the Church doors. We’ve hidden the children in the very furthest corner and covered them up with whatever we can find. We told them to stay quiet, at all costs, but some of them are infants. They’ll cry for their mothers, and when they do? The whole lot of them will be found.
Its been several minutes since I heard musket fire, and the last of the shouts from our boys have long since ceased. All I can hear now is the Howling, and some of the women in here saying how we should use the pews to barricade the door. But its hopeless. We all know its hopeless. All we can do now is be strong for the children. But how can I? My home is burnt. My Paul - my Paul - is gone. All our boys are gone. How can I be strong when my strength is gone?
The Infected have begun hammering away at the church doors and windows. We are surrounded in here. God, Lord - give me strength. Please, Father. Give me strength. Just for a little while longer. Just for a liit-
This Diary was found buried in the rubble of an old church in the center of Andersonsburg, cradled by a long-rotted corpse that appears to have suffered severe blunt trauma wounds along the length of the spine and around the skull. There are multiple other skeletons strewn about the floor of the place, all but one of which appear to have suffered similarly. The other one - an infant’s corpse and one well-hidden in the corner, appears to never have suffered a wound at all; it looks instead to have perished of starvation, likely some days after the events described here.
Outside the church of course, is the town itself. It is currently being picked clean by my colleagues and other members of the University - all for research purposes, of course (although I fear black market scavengers will descend like vultures upon the place once word of its existence spreads) - and it is in a spectacular state of ruin, mostly from what appears to be fire damage. As of this document I am the only person who knows of the existence of this Diary.
Anway. Hell, I’ll update this later. At the moment I’m being called over to help with one of the interns, who’s apparently collapsed and begun to convulse. They’re probably just dehydrated.
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2017.06.06 20:39 TheJesseClark What Really Happened to Andersonsburg, Pennsylvania, in April of 1829

Perhaps you've heard of Andersonsburg - the old western Pennsylvanian town, that, like Roanoke before it, suffered a mysterious end and left no accounted survivors to enlighten anyone as to the details of its fate. Luckily that may no longer be the case; I've joined a University-funded expedition here, and have been tasked with collecting items of value that can hopefully assist in our search for knowledge pertaining to the curious fate of the city. After some exhausting work, I did indeed come across a Diary that is by far the most informative document yet unearthed. I'll check the contents for veracity at a later date. For now, here are the most relevant excerpts for anyone interested:
3 April 1829
Another man caught the Fever, this time down at the lumber camp. From what I hear the poor bastard was tying down the logs when he just up and fell right over into the river. Almost drowned, I heard, and when the others got to him, Matthew and Thomas and the lot, they said his face had gone pale as a cloud, and that he was shakin,’ and sweating and coughing. Ain’t no mistaking that for nothing but the early signs o’ the Fever. So they hauled the poor fellow out and gave him a canteen and had him rest, but then without telling him, they struck camp and left ‘im there. I'm not sure what came of him. But everyone here knows the Mayor’s rule - none struck with Fever are permitted to return to Andersonsburg. If they're favored enough to survive the thing, unlikely as that sounds, they're to remain banished to the woods with nothing but the clothes on their backs and whatever coin they gots in their purse. Not a one of the other lads down at the camp wanted to risk becoming an Infected and meeting such a grisly fate. No, sir.
4 April, 1829
By mayor’s decree: the lumber camp is to be abandoned, along with all the supplies it's gathered, for fear of being tainted with Fever. There was an uproar at the Mansion today over the decision. Many men are out of work now because of it; but strange enough, I didn’t see not a one of the fellows from the camp itself down at the Mansion; just their wives and some others. And I know why, too. They wouldn’t admit it aloud - no, sir - but they don’t wanna go back. I wouldn’t either. I've seen the Fever at work at Pinefield, and it ain't got no place in my home. Not while I got a wife at home. No, sir.
7 April 1829
Maria says to me today in the kitchen: “Paul, I can’t believe the Mayor’d throw so many good men out of jobs!” But I says back to’er: “Dunno, Sweetheart. Perhaps he’s got himself a point. That ol’ camp’s been run clean over with Fever. And you don’t want that Plague finding its way round here, no, sir. God ‘Imself couldnt’ stop it if it did.” So she snorts and walks away. But she’ll come ‘round eventually. ‘Specially when the stories of the Infected keep comin.’
If Fever’s hit the camp, then its only a good two or three miles from town. Only a matter of time, I think, before it finds its way here. God above, I hope I’m wrong, but maybe I should start thinking bout taking Maria away for a time, though, to see my brother in Philadelphia. Just til all the foul things conclude here.
11 April, 1829
A man got shot last night, not a hundred yards from Jim Isley’s porch. Jim says he was delirious, just stumbling about near the treeline without an aim in the world. He calls out to ‘im an he says, “Declare yourself! You’s an Iroquois? I’ll shoot you dead if you an Iroquois, ol’ boy!” And he said nothin,’ so shoot ‘im he did. Then Jim sent his boy Nathan into town to fetch a picket while he watched the field, thinking an Indian attack was brewin.’ But when Nathan got back with some of the men and their rifles looking for a good fight, not another Indian had shown his face. So they went out and looked at the body, and saw it was something worse: that old Infected fellow from the lumber camp. Found his way back to town in his stupor, and by God, says the men, the Fever worked its way through him right quick. Says he was rotting inside-out, skin falling off like a Leper. Teeth all filed into those wicked points. So they puts up their shirts to their noses and mouths and they set the body to the flame.
They told the story today at the Pub, but some o’ the other gents there took offense to the tale. Says they shoulda told the Mayor, says they shouldn’ta gone near the corpses. One fellow, Tom Huggins, I think he was, said those men were probably Infected, too, by virtue of going near even a dead Infected. Says the Plague lingers after death. Then he bolts out the door, and the barkeep asks the storytellers to leave. I left, too. Ain’t no risking getting the Fever. No, sir.
15 April, 1829.
Jim Isley didn’t show up at the Office today. And all the men there knows the story with the Infected fellow getting shot, too. So the rumors are swirlin.’ No one’s heard from him. His clients are stopping on by and alls we can say is ‘we ain’t seen the fellow, come on by later on.’ So they do, but they ain’t happy about it. No, sir. I like ol’ Jim, even if he’s a little small-brained, so I says to myself I think I’ll stop on by his house after closin,’ to see what’s the matter. I know I shouldn’t, but if he’s sick I’ll know for sure and I won’t go near the man.
I just hope it ain’t the Fever. God above, I hope it ain’t the Fever.
So I gets to his house at roundabout dusk and his wife Sarah opens up the door. She’s a sweetheart, she is, but even though she’s putting on a nice big smile for her guest I can tells she’s got a worry on her mind. So I put my hat to my chest an I says, “Greetings, ma’am. Just stopping on by to extend my regards to Jim. He didn’t show up at the Office today, y’see, and I was hoping I could see him.” Then her smile fades and she says “That’s mighty kind of you, Paul, but Jim’s been under the weather and he won’t let neither me nor Nathan in the bedroom. Alls I know is he’s sweating and having trouble keeping down a meal.” Then my smile fades, an I says without a second thought, “Sarah, I’m guessing you heard bout the guest a half-week back? The man Jim shot?” And she says, “The Iroquois scout! Jim says he shot ‘im dead.” So I says, “Sarah, that weren’t no Iroquois scout. That was the Infected feller from the Lumber camp. Jim and some other fellers burned the body once they saw the skin.” And her face goes white as a ghost and she just says “Don’t you lie to me! Don’t you lie to me about my Jim!” And she goes and shuts the door in my face! I hope she gets her wits about her and gets Nathan out of there soon. He’s a good lad, and she’s got a big kindly heart herself. They don’t deserve this. As luck would have it, though, I ran across Doctor Armistead on the way home, an I tells him about Jim. Maybe he can help.
16 April, 1829.
Maria wakes me up earlier to-day and she says, “The Isley’s are gone! The Isley’s are gone!” And I’m tired so at first I don’t know what nonsense she’s talkin.’ But then I remember Jim and Sarah and Nathan, and I says, “What you mean, gone? Dead, gone?” And she says, “No! The Doctor says Jim’s got the Fever, Paul, and so a few men grabbed their muskets and they haul the whole Isley family out their house and toss ‘em right out the whole town! Some of the men says, if they ever come back, they’ll shoot ‘em dead.”
So I feels right guilty for ratting ‘em out and I throws my covers off and I run outside and down the street. Sure enough, the Isley home’s gone up in a smoke! The whole towns out there watching it burn without a pity, except the Parish, and when I run up I hears people talking about anyone else who’d been in contact with that body of the fellow down at the Lumber camp. Then I hears the other names come up: David Brody, John Greene, Will Benson Hodges. The townsfolk say they’ve gotta find ‘em an give ‘em the boot, or else the whole town’ll get the Fever! One lass says “Why don’t we just shoot ‘em?” An another fellow says back to her, “Then we’d have to remove the corpse. Wouldn’t wanna go near such a thing, would you? The Plague lingers. Better to have ‘em walk right on out on their own two feet.”
But I thinks to myself hell, that's almost worse.
18 April 1829.
The town’s all done over in a hysteria, I tell ya. The Mayor’s declared martial law ever since the Isley’s and the Brody’s and the Greenes and the Hodges got evicted, and not a soul is to enter Andersonsburg until further notice. You can leave and he won’t stop ya. But you ain’t coming back if you do, and the townsfolk’ll assume your departure means you been struck with Plague. Then they’ll burn your home to ash. I’ve seen it happen ten times in the last few days alone. These boys ain’t playin games, no, sir. There are some o’ them religious folks talking about how its God’s judgment for sin, and other fellows with muskets patroling the streets, and every once in awhile you’ll hear a big ol’ loud crack! as he pops off his gun.
Cause that’s the other thing, y’see. Them Infected keep trying to get back in.
20 April 1829.
Some o’ the Infected stormed in down Mulberry Street last night. Stole some cattle, rattled some doorknobs. But the militia showed up right quick and drove ‘em off with some sharp musketry. They didn’t kill any of ‘em until after they’d run out past the wooden palisades. Then they shot ‘em in the back and dropped ‘em like a sack o’ potatoes, says they.
The men have orders only to wound, if possible, y’see, if the Infected make it inside the town. That’s seeing as how a dead Infected in the streets is a corpse some poor bastard’ll have to remove. And then he’s struck with Fever too, far as the town’s concerned, and they send him a packin.’ Needless to say not a man woman or child in Andersonsburg's willing to volunteer for such a job. So the Mayor says to the militia captain, he says, “If them infected find their way in here, you get ‘em out some way other than killin ‘em dead, y’hear? I ain’t aimin’ to have to pick a poor lad to take the bodies out and take himself out the same way. No, sir.”
24 April 1829.
The Mayor let in a visitor today. Some o’ the townsfolk down at the Hall threw up a good fit over that, but the man had something to say, so in he comes. He meets with the Mayor and from what I heard from Phil Gables, he told the Mayor the Infected have thrown in their numbers and overrun the nearest town over west. That place - Lesterburg - was in a similar spot to us: rooting out the Infected, burning their homes. Barricades had gone up, the milita’d been mobilized. All the same, the Infected, hungry for flesh, swept in out of the woods one night and overran the barricades and the watch towers and killed every last person in the town. Except for this feller - Charles Gates or something or other - he was the last man alive, and he ran all the way here to tell us that horde is heading up this way, not two days out.
So now the town’s gotta figure out what’s to be done. Some people think the feller’s lying to get himself a bite to eat. Others think we should all leave for Philadelphia while the leavin’s good. Others think we can take on the horde. Lesterburg was half the size of Andersonsburg, after all, says they. We have more men, more muskets. We could beat ‘em. But its all up to the Mayor now.
25 April 1829
The Mayor elected to stand and fight, but said that anyone who sought to flee was welcome to do so, o‘course. Got himself a nice round of applause, and then the men, myself among ‘em, set about collecting arms and bullets and building up the barricades in the streets and setting up wood towers for the lookouts. If these Infected aim to have a fight, a fight they shall have.
According to Charles, we should expect the horde to come up from the Southwest near the Pike, sometime in the next twelve or so hours. Said there were uncountable hundreds of ‘em, all rotting away and thirsty for blood and crawling like beasts. We’ve got ourselves a good two hundred forty men and muskets and rounds enough for maybe a hundred eighty of ‘em. Add to that number thirty good sharp-shooting rifles for the marksmen in the towers, and even two twelve-pounders overlooking the pike from two angles, and we gots ourselves a fine force to defend the town with. But I can see it in everyone’s eyes: a mist of fear.
Tonight I’ll spend the evening with Maria, and we’ll do what the two of us can to take our mind off things. By the door is my musket, o’course, and in my satchel all the ammunition I could find. Should I hear the church bells go off at any point, I’ll have no choice but to grab the gun, kiss Maria one last time, perhaps, and rush out to the Southwest barricade to do some fightin.’
If the church bells ring a second time, though, everyone knows what that means: the Infected have broken on through. Then it's time to hit the road to Philadelphia. So I tells Maria to keep our valuables packed.
26 April 1829
To-day I took a good stroll out at the edge of town. We’ve got ourselves a good palisade. Some of the boys at the Northwestern edge even dug themselves a trench, and the whole of the militia, even Captain Gaines, have elected ol’ Booker Downes to lead the defense, seeing as he fought with the mountaineers in the Indian wars and got himself some experience. So he rounds up some horses and dispatches a rider to Philadelphia to call up some help, and then two more riders with orders to scout the outskirts of town - one to the west to spot the horde and the other elsewhere to ensure they ain't coming up from nowhere’s else - and report back what they find no later than mid-afternoon. So off they all go, and the rest of the lads get back to the job of fixing up defenses.
By now we scrounged up a good twelve more muskets and forty or so pistols and every blade we can find. The butcher was kind enough to lend us some cutlery, and in the town armory Briggs and I bagged up a few score rusty bayonets and distributed them evenly along the front. We got ourselves an army now, boys. I only hope it lasts the night.
Still no word from the scouts. Downes is getting nervous, so he goes and he sends off another two riders and says “You lads go no more than a mile out, y’hear? Then come on back to me.” So off they go.
One of the new scouts came a-galloping on back in, and he's huffing and puffing and he says to Downes, “They ain't just coming up from the west, sir. Spotted a good lot of ‘em in the Northwest, too, and the north, and they gots themselves horses! A whole mess of ‘em!” And Downes says “Whatd’ya mean, horses? Like they’s eaten ‘em?” And the scout says, “no sir, they’s ridin’ ‘em. Like cavalry. Dead looking things, rottin' skin, with the same red eyes as those Infected folk. And they making speed, sir! They makin’ damn good speed!”
And no sooner does he say that then the Church bell rings. And I look up, and all the men looks up, and we see young Johnny Billings up there, and he’s waving his arms and shouting somethin fierce and pointing off to the West. So we looks to the west. And there they are, all’ve sudden, a whole mess o’ them Infected comin up out of the treeline and runnin up the hill towards the barricade. So we all rush up to the wall and take aim, and Downes says to fire the twelve pounders. So they fire - BOOM! BOOM! - and a good few of those Infected go’s a-flying. But then more are coming, and more and more.
So then the marksmen open up fire from the towers and they're picking the bastards off as best they can. But the horde gets closer and closer. Soon they's in musket range, so me and the boys fire a volley, and when we reload the boys behind us fire, and then the boys behind them. We three lines deep at the choke-points. And pretty soon we got Infected piling up right quick not fifty yards off. Dead and more dead and more. But the rest of ‘em keep right on climbing over the pile o’ the dead ones and keep right on coming, and we keep right on shooting.
But then the infected did something I ain’t seen yet. Far as I could tell beforehand, the Fever keeps you from thinking straight, and then you’re just not thinking at all; you just a mindless thing with rotten skin that eats and kills. But today, after a good ten or twelve minutes of fighting, the horde got up and the whole lot of ‘em actually fell back. Now that says to me a number o’things, things discussed openly as the men set about reloading and fetching water in the interim - that means these things are thinkin.’ They knew they couldn’t break our lines and so they retreated back towards the trees. They ain’t done - we can still see their damned red eyes glowing through the shroud of trees, but they fell back. Maybe they’s scared?
The Infected haven’t tried another all out assault yet. Commander Downes thinks they’s waiting for nightfall so they can slip in unseen, so he had a handful of boys from each of the regiments head out to the killing fields and throw up lamps while some others stood guard. When sunlight starts to fall we’ll have other boys run out with torches and light those lamps, and the hope is we can keep the fields lit for shooting throughout the night. We gots’ closer lamps, too, that can be lit from behind the barricade without having to send men out all exposed.
Sun’s coming on down. We can still see them damn Infected in the trees, and we hear rustling and footsteps and Commander Downes says they’s likely to be bringing up reinforcements for another push. Billie’s got a fine ear, and he says he can even hear ‘em talkin,’ out there. Grunting and stuff. Probably planning their next move. Meanwhile the boys on this side of the palisades have been reinforcing the barriers.
Still no word from the other three scouts. But we ain’t holding our breath on their return.
Round about eight o’clock we heard some shooting at the Northwest barrier, so Commander Downes sends me and Butler and Payton out to see if they need help. So we get there and the boys said the things had tried crawlin through the tall grass for cover and were only about a hundred some-odd feet from the palisade when the boys spotted ‘em and started shootin.’ So we goes back to Downes an tells him, and he calls up a Council of War with the regiment heads and says that given that and the retreat from earlier, its clear the Infected are smarter than we thought. Made a point to say that no weapons could fall into their hands. Not under any circumstances. No, sir.
No we all’s still waiting on that big night-time push.
Sure enough as hell, those Infected bastards made a second big charge against all the barricades at the same time, sometime before midnight. Damn near caught us with our pants ‘round the ankles, too. We hear rifle cracks from the marksmens’ towers and then the twelve-pounders fire off, and then a flurry of musket fire from the Northwest. Then they hit us twice as hard as they did before, and we’re firing volley after volley into ‘em, stacked up three lines deep to keep the musketballs flying. And they’re hitting the dirt an bits and pieces of ‘em are flying, but still they keep on coming.
Then they start hitting back, even though they’re still a good fifty yards to the palisade. They bring up rocks and start flinging ‘em towards us. Fistfulls of gravel flying in through the musket smoke, and they peppering the boys and knocking teeth loose. Men start to yelp when they get hit. And them twelve-pounders are firing away, too - BOOM! BOOM! - every couple o’minutes, and that tears big groups of ‘em down. But they kept on coming till they was right up at the palisade, and Commander Downes told the front row to start up with their bayonets and blades and tomahawks. I remember how close the bastards came to taking a big ol’ bite outta my neck. Luckily ol’ Bruce knicked the sumbitch with a bayonet to the head and he keeled over. Not long after that the Infected retreated again.
But now we gots a fresh problem: we got casualties. Men are bit, men made contact with Plague, and so now we gots to do what we all knew we’d have to do. Get rid of the infected. Commander Downes rides up and he takes a good, long look at this one poor lad, arm bleeding from a bite, and he tells him to head out and relight the torches. The boy looked all forlorn, like he knew what was happening, but he weren’t about to disobey orders. So out he goes, and as soon as he lights the torch, Downes has one of the men fire on the poor lad. He dropped like a stone, dead ‘fore he hit the ground. That one hurt us all, I think.
But we wasn’t done, neither. Some o’ the other men got touched by Fever, too, and so me and the rest o’ the boys backs up and levels some pistols at ‘em and we asks Commander Downes, “What do we do with ‘em, sir?” An he says, “You know what we do. We send ‘em away.” So at gun point we show the men to the gate, and they’re begging and they’re pleading, but we gots no choice. So out they go, and we say we’ll fire at ‘em unless they get as far away from town as they can. We all knew what was coming, and sure enough as soon as they got near the woods, Infected ran out and dragged ‘em in. We all watched ‘till the screaming stopped and the bushes quit their shakin.’ Few o’ the men here got sick. Others cried. I just wrote it all down. God above, I hope Maria’s as far from this hell as possible.
27 April, 1829.
We slept in shifts last night, and luckily there weren’t any other attempts by the Infected to rush the barricades. But we’re tired, the lot of us. Damn hell, we’re tired. I’d be amazed if any man got a lick of real rest. We was silent, but we stayed up and we listened good to the sound of Infected howling out there in the woods. There were thousands of ‘em, it sounded like, filling up the whole night sky with the din o’ their big, collective war-scream. Lasted for an hour, maybe more.
One o’ the boys nearest me was praying along all night, begging for the good Lord to come down and save us. I asked him to put in a good word for me, too.
This morning some of the wives pitched in with medical aid and a big, hearty breakfast. So we ate well, and Commander Downes allowed us to spend time with our families. Maria and I took a nice stroll, but I didn’t have much to say. By mid-day I was back at the palisade with the other men, and by sun-down we were starting to hear the Infected getting riled up again, hearing that awful howlin.’
Downes and his aides were riding back and forth, making sure the walls were good and solid, the cannons reloaded and manned, and the belltower watch was keepin’ his eye out. And this time we gots’ some o’ the younger boys to run ammo up and down where its neede-
Shooting started. Will update if possible.
God above. God help us. The Infected hit us at all sides, all at once. Them cannon’s were firing like mad, and Commander Downes was telling ‘em, “Aim for the trees! Aim for the trees!” So they did, and after a few rounds they’d managed to dam off the entry points and slow down the horde. But it weren’t more than a stopgap. Them Infected were running through the musket smoke, howling and screaming for food. Some of ‘em were galloping towards the walls on all fours and you could see the red of their eyes, like pooling blood. Jim Isley was one of ‘em, and I had to be the poor bastard to put ‘im down for good. I’m sorry, Jim. Truly, I am.
But they kept right on comin!’ The boys were firing wildly and chopping and stabbing and screaming, and them Infected was doing the same and trying to mount the palisades. And then, just when there weren’t a lick more we could take, we heard some o’ the men screaming from down south of us. We wasn’t aware we were even threatened there, but sure ‘nuff, them Infected bastards had broken on through some of the pickets and were trying to break in through the windows o’ the houses. So Commander Downes sent me and five other gents to go and put a stop to that. We burst in through the houses and stabbed ‘em through the windows and traded shots for rocks over barrels. I got all good and cut up from the exploding glass windows, but I ain’t been bit. Not yet.
So we put a stop to them coming in that way, but when I got back I explained to Downes real good that they were gonna try that again, sooner or later, and we needed a good force o’men to guard up there. Turns out he’d gotten similar reports from other parts o’ town, though, and so we’d have to stretch our lines real thin to cover it all up. But we did what we had to, and by God we held the line all around the town by the skin of our teeth. Some o’ the men - God above - grown men, they’re just cryin.’ They’re so damn tired, and scared. We all are. But we held the line - by God we did. Ain’t a man here who didn’t do his duty.
28-29 April, 1829.
To-day the women and children helped us all build a new defensive line to-wards the center of town. Downes says that if we get hit again like we did last night, we’d have these new palisades and trenches to fall back on. I worked with Maria to-day digging away. She tended to my wounds, too, and we just enjoyed each other’s company as we worked. I even got some shut-eye, some real good shut-eye, if not but for an hour or two. Then it was sun-down again. The boys and I ate up a stew the women cooked up, and then we were off to the palisades.
Them wooden posts were beaten and worn, too. We knew we couldn’t stay for long. And as soon as the Howling started from the trees, Commander Downes ordered the twelve pounders be stripped and rushed to the inner line of defense so they’d be ready if it gets bad. Or when it gets bad, I suppose I’ll say.
I made sure to kiss Maria real good tonight, and made her promise to make a good run for it if those church bells rang twice - which now meant the inner line’d been breached. She cried and nodded. I wanted to tell her that if she had to run, I’d meet her at Joseph’s house in Philadelphia. But alls I could bring myself to say aloud was, “You run straight for Joesph’s, you hear? Don’t you stop.” ‘Cause Lord, and I’m tearing up just writing this down, I don’t know if I’ll last the night.
Hell, I dunno if anyone here’ll last the night.
We at the inner line of defense now. We ain’t been hit that hard since the battle started. God above, it was a bloody mess - the rush started off with some Infected leaping outta them woods and tackling the lamps into the ground. The glass broke and all the dry weeds go in a flame. Soon the fire smoke and the musket smoke made it so we couldn’t see a damn thing out there; all’s we could hear were the howlin’! Musta been a thousand o’ the bastards tonight. Maybe more.
So we’d been shooting for a good while, and hacking and throwing rocks, an then we heard the commotion up at the other wall, and boy we knew it weren’t no small thing. There were men screaming and the shooting altogether stopped up there. So we knew they were done for, and Commander Downes rides up to us and he says, “The Northwest Palisade is breached! Fall back to the inner line! Fall back!” And so me and the boys pick up our guns and beat a fighting retreat down the Boulevard towards the inner walls. Then them Infected started pouring over the palisades, and we knew there weren’t no throwing ‘em back. Not this time.
So we get’s back to the inner palisade and we start right up again, shooting and firing those twelve pounders, boy, and them Infected are coming at us from e’ry side now. Howling the whole way, burning up and’ getting shot all up but still running at us. Now we gots kids in the camp, and I can hear the little lads and lasses putting up a good cry even over the din of the fight, an I thinks, how’s it we ain’t sent them little ones off to Philadelphia? How’s they still here? Maybe its because Downes thinks their being here will inspire us, y’know, to fight even harder.
Anyways. After ‘bout a good more hour or two o’ shooting and stabbin,’ the horde dwindles a bit, and that’s when Briggs see’s it - one o’ them Infected mounted up on a dead horse, looking down on the town from atop the wooded hill north o’town. We only saw his silhouette and those red eyes peering at us through all the smoke and flame, but he’s there, right as rain. Briggs points and we all look, and we gotta catch our breath in our throats. Them Infected got themselves a general, from the looks’ve it. He’s just sitting up there, watching his Plague-runners set the town ablaze.
Not too long after that some sunlight comes up o’er the church tower, and then the horde falls back. But we don’t know how far; we don’t know if they’s ran back to the trees, or if they’s still inside the town, staying in our houses til’ dark. Downes says we can’t spare a-nobody to go and takes a look. So here we stay, here in the inner palisade by the edge of town. And we waits for nightfall. And that Infected up on the horse.
29 April, 1829
So I got some sleep this afternoon. Not a whole hell of a lot, but a better amount than none. First thing I did when I woke was help count ammo. We’s almost clean out; maybe ten rounds a man, and now we’s only got seventy men or so. And them twelve pounders is almost out, too. They only has maybe twelve balls left to shoot between the two of ‘em. And none of the riders have gotten back, neither, so we ain’t got no reinforcements comin.’
So Briggs and I, and Payton and Short, we goes up to Commander Downes and we says, “Sir, we almost out of men and ammo, and we got lil' ones here, sir, and our wives! And the town’s all up in flames, sir. There ain’t nothing left for us here. Not for a one of us. We should make a run for Philadelphia while we still gots’ daylight.” But he says back, “I ain’t never left the enemy in command of the field. We stay, and we fight.” And he rides off! Now I ain’t no mutineer - Lord above knows I done my duty - but I ain’t aiming to die for the principle of it. Not when I gots my Maria here, and no town left to defend.
So I talks to some o’ the men and women and lay it out for ‘em. And I says, “Look here, boys. We ain’t lasting another night and if we do, what’ll come of us in the next one? We gots to get out while we still can. The road to Philadelphia’s still open, and we still gots ourselves enough daylight to get outta the woods and to the open road before nightfall.” An the majority of ‘em nod and we take a vote. The motion to leave is the clear winner.
So we get our things and we tells Commander Downes, “We’s leavin,’ sir. There ain’t nothing here left for us and we ain’t aiming to die for a pile o’ rubble.” An he gets red in the face and he says back, “I’ll have the lot o’ you hanged for treason!” And he calls up his boys - bout half the men left with their muskets and he says, “you lot arrest them mutineers, y’hear?” And so they advance, and we level our muskets to repel ‘em back. But before any shots are fired, one of the women in the Church points down the road heading off to the Southeast and she says, “Look! One o’ the scout’s is riding in!” So we all turns an look and sure enough, ol’ David Benjamin’s puling up into town, an he looks like hell itself.
He says, “Water, water!” And so we gives him a canteen, and then he says, “I was coming up with a column o’ state militia from the midland, alls the help I could muster up, but them Infecteds - they’re everywhere! All over the road, out in force. I swears they was lying in wait for the lot of us, like an ambush, and they leapt down on the main road and just tore into the poor lads. They didn’t have a chance. I’m the only man who made it back; I needs to tells y’all that the road to Philadelphia is blocked!”
So now the whole damn town’s in a panic. We’s surrounded by the Plague, and there ain’t no way out. And not a minute ago, while I was writing this here entry, someone points up to the hill north o’town an they says, “There’s the horseman!” And we all look and there he is - that Plague Rider, eyeing the town with that wicked red stare o’his, and that of his horse, and we see’s he’s got a whole wretched host of other Infected Riders. And then they started moving right on down the mountain towards us.
Then the Howling started, and just now - the church bells started to ring. I know it in my bones I ain’t surviving this night. They coming at us from all sides now. And I’m holding Maria tight, and she’s crying, too, and alls we can hear’s the wailing of the little ones from the church, and the shouts of the boys as they run up to the Palisade with their guns, and the wheeling forward of the cannon. So I gave Maria a kiss, and I’m leaving this here diary in her possession. I love you, darling. I love you, and I hope you know that.
29 April, 1829
Paul has gone off to the palisades. He’s scared. I am too. We all are, but we’ve gotta be strong for the children here in the back of the church. The other women and I have tended to the lot of them since the men fell back to the inner line of defense, which I helped to build, and at least half of them have the Fever. Of that I’m now sure. But it no longer matters, does it? They won’t live to see themselves be taken by it, and perhaps that’s a merciful thing.
The shooting has started. The boys are throwing in everything they’ve got, God bless the lot of them - but I can tell its not enough. We’ve but an hour left, maybe less - before the Infected make it to the church. The children here have cried themselves empty, and now they're huddling around myself and the other women and clutching our dresses and burying their faces in our laps. I’m as afraid as any of them. But I can’t let them see that. I can’t.
The church bells are ringing again, and the men just outside - the thirty or so of them left (I’ve no idea if Paul is among them) - sound exhausted and panicked. The cannons have long since stopped firing, likely having expended their ammunition. Only periodically do I hear a musket blast. Paul was explaining earlier that they’d nearly run out of bullets last night. I can’t imagine they’ve found many more.
I hear galloping now, coming up from the west. Its not the state militia. Its that Plague Rider. I can hear him - I know its him. I know it. He commands these beasts. He grunts and shouts, and they listen. They’re only a few yards from the Church doors. We’ve hidden the children in the very furthest corner and covered them up with whatever we can find. We told them to stay quiet, at all costs, but some of them are infants. They’ll cry for their mothers, and when they do? The whole lot of them will be found.
Its been several minutes since I heard musket fire, and the last of the shouts from our boys have long since ceased. All I can hear now is the Howling, and some of the women in here saying how we should use the pews to barricade the door. But its hopeless. We all know its hopeless. All we can do now is be strong for the children. But how can I? My home is burnt. My Paul - my Paul - is gone. All our boys are gone. How can I be strong when my strength is gone?
The Infected have begun hammering away at the church doors and windows. We are surrounded in here. God, Lord - give me strength. Please, Father. Give me strength. Just for a little while longer. Just for a liit-
This Diary was found buried in the rubble of an old church in the center of Andersonsburg, cradled by a long-rotted corpse that appears to have suffered severe blunt trauma wounds along the length of the spine and around the skull. There are multiple other skeletons strewn about the floor of the place, all but one of which appear to have suffered similarly. The other one - an infant’s corpse and one well-hidden in the corner, appears to never have suffered a wound at all; it looks instead to have perished of starvation, likely some days after the events described here.
Outside the church of course, is the town itself. It is currently being picked clean by my colleagues and other members of the University - all for research purposes, of course (although I fear black market scavengers will descend like vultures upon the place once word of its existence spreads) - and it is in a spectacular state of ruin, mostly from what appears to be fire damage. As of this document I am the only person who knows of the existence of this Diary.
Anway. Hell, I’ll update this later. At the moment I’m being called over to help with one of the interns, who’s apparently collapsed and begun to convulse. They’re probably just dehydrated.
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2015.06.23 01:55 ishaan_singh [EVENT] Union Budget of India, FY 2021–2022.

New Delhi, 2021. Finance Minister, on Tuesday, released the Union Budget for the fiscal year of 2021–2022. The budget is significant, the Indian economy is now worth $11 trillion and about to attempt its first manned mission at great cost of $10.8 billion.
Finance Minister began his budget speech by acknowledging the Speaker of the Lok Sabha. The budget being significant, speech was made longer. The minister spoke at great length about the plans that are to come and annual financial statements in a 146 minutes long speech.
Statistics for the fiscal year 2020–2021 were released. Indian economy which crossed $11 trillion mark, now stands at $11,101,242 million. Economy grew at the rate of 6.34% in the last financial year, which is down from the 7% rates gained in last few years but enough to keep the economy running. Revenue collection stood at 14.43% of the GDP, which in numbers is $1,601,909 million.
Table 1. Statistics of the Indian economy, FY 2020–2021.
Gross Domestic Product $11,101,242 million
Growth rate 6.34%
Revenues of the Centre $1,601,909 million
Revenues as percent of GDP 14.43%
After the government was criticized for increasing defence spending, the budget for FY 2021–2022, stood at $197,228 million. Institute of Defence Studies and Analysis estimates India to be among the highest military spending nations on wholes, after China, Russia, South, Saudi Arabia, Sierra, Midlands and Great Lakes.
Table 2. Component–wise breakup of the Union Budget.
Component Budget Estimates in millions Percent of the Budget
Defence Services $197,228 12.31%
Non-Plan Expenditure $620,982 38.77%
Plan Expenditure $807,715 50.42%
Deficit $24,015 1.50%
Government's continuous efforts to reduce subsidies seems to be working. It's perhaps the first time that the Plan Expenditure has had more than 50% share in the Union Budget.
Table 3. Component–wise breakup of the Non–Plan Expenditure.
Component Budget Estimates in millions
Interest Payments and Prepayment $91,197
Subsidies $197,210
Grants to States and UTs $77,452
Pensions $95,794
General Services $90,508
Social Services $27,553
Economic Services $26,912
Grants to Foreign Governments $1,861
Others $12,495
In light of the recent crisis in Central Asia, government has decided to increase Afghanistan's aid by about $300 million to $400 million. The $300 million additional aid to Afghanistan will be wired at immediate.
Table 4. Component–wise breakup of the Plan Expenditure.
Component Budget Estimates in millions
Central Plan $638,681
Central Assistance to States and UTs $169,033
Central Plan's been increased aggressively to finance government's major infrastructural projects, including the Indian High Speed Rail Network. As with past years, major programmes under Central Plan are as follows:
Kakinada Shipyard's first phase has been completed, the connectivity of high speed rail to Kakinada is expected to play a major role in shaping up the regional shipbuilding industry. A detailed report on the expansion of second phase will be released at a later date. Additionally, three more upcoming ports and shipyards have been chosen for upgrades. Government has had strong beliefs in India's maritime capabilities and has sought to revive its rich maritime history.
Few years back rising military budget brought the NDA–led government under scrutiny from opposition. In order to encourage transparency and emerge as an open and data–sharing establishment, the Indian government released its official numbers on budget of Indian Armed Forces.
Table 5. Breakup of India's military spending.
Component Expenditure in millions Percent of Budget
Personnel $18,987 10.13%
Operations and maintenance $70,431 37.57%
Procurement $49,655 26.49%
Research and development $32,259 17.21%
Construction $4,461 2.38%
Other costs $11,650 6.22%
Lion share of budget is being spent on operations and maintenance costs, which is nearly the same for all armies of the world. India's spending on R&D spending and procurement is among the largest in world, making the Indian Armed Forces among the most rapidly growing modern military.
Finance Minister announced revamp of education policy of the country which is in discussion, he's claimed Prime Minister Modi himself to be working on the education policy. Aim of the new proposed education policy is to provide quality and truthful and logical education to children of India. Textbooks of mathematics, history, etc. are to be revised.
The speech ended with the clapping of desks in the parliament. Prime Minister congratulated the Finance Ministry, Arun Jaitley, for his efforts. After the session was adjourned, the ministers had the usual halwa ceremony to mark the Union Budget.
In recent months, Finance Minister has expressed hope on further rate reductions to help boost the liquidity in economy. Raghu Rajan, the Governor of RBI, has hinted on possible rate cuts. If the rate cuts go through it could open up range of possibilities for the Indian industry, easier liquidity has been much demanded by the Indian industrialists. A rate cut would be a definite positive for the economy.
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