Napoleonic Wargame Club (NWC)

“Out of ze vay”, cried the Commander of the Hanoverian Feld Jagers as he forcibly threw open the door of the tavern. “Ve haff a medical emergency hier!”

Following close on Der Wurger’s heels were four more Hanoverian officers, arms upraised, carrying the limp body of their Commanding officer upon their shoulders. The Major General was obviously unconscious as his arms and legs dangled limply to both sides of the procession. He also looked quite pale, and not well at all, his head bobbing up and down in rhythm to the cadence of his bearers. Following this group was yet another Hanoverian officer that was more commonly known as ‘The Rat’. In contrast to the frenzied pace of his comrades in arms, ‘The Rat’s’ entrance into the tavern was much more casual.

“Qvickly, qvickly”, cried Der Wurger as he cleared a path to the Hanoverian’s favorite table, “Ve do not haff much time!” The four Hanoverians rapidly closed upon the table, and carefully laid their commanding officer upon it, face up.

Helga paled at the sight. Not only did it appear that one of her favorite officers may have been mortally wounded, but he also happened to be perhaps her most loyal, not to mention lucrative, patron. As all eyes remained transfixed on the scene unfolding before them, ‘The Rat’ casually walked over to the bar and removed a full bottle from behind the counter.

“Mein Gott”, cried Der Wurger as he examined his Commander, “I do not tink dat he ist breathing!”

“Trust me”, said ‘The Rat’ as he walked over to the table carrying the bottle he had just retrieved, “he’s breathing. Pick him up under the shoulders and hold him upright.”

As Der Wurger did as requested, ‘The Rat’ uncorked the bottle with his teeth, pinched his fingers over his commanding officer’s nose, and poured a copious quantity of liquor into the Major General’s mouth. Setting the bottle on the table, he closed the Commander’s mouth with his newly freed hand and started counting backwards from three. Just as he reached one, the Major General swallowed the liquid, and forcibly removed ‘The Rat’s’ hand from his nose as he gasped for air.

“Mein Gott”, exclaimed Der Wurger, “es ist ein miracle! Our General ist alive.”

“Of course I am alive”, said the Commander of the Hanoverian Brigade when he finally recovered his voice. “Why wouldn’t I be? As undignified as it sounds, I seem to have fainted. How long was I out?”

“You were in a coma for two years, sir”, replied ‘The Rat’ without flinching. “The war is over, and Bonaparte won.”

“Bona…the French…won…no, that can’t be right”, said the Hanoverian Commander as he eyed his subordinate with ever increasing suspicion.

“No, sir”, grinned ‘The Rat’, “I was just having you on to see if you had lost any of your faculties. You passed out only a few moments ago as we were approaching the tavern. I think three days without any Jagermeister was a bit more than your constitution could endure.”

“Oh, yes, now I remember”, replied the Major General as he spied the newly opened bottle of Jagermeister beside him on the table. “I just have one question then.”

“What is that, sir”, replied ‘The Rat’.

Looking directly at the bottle of liquor, the Hanoverian Guardsmen asked, “You are not going to finish that alone are you?”

And that, gentlemen, is what happens when I am denied the solace of the Rhine Tavern and the fine company of all of the officers of the NWC for three days in a row! Cheers, my friends, one and all.

Bad singing...

Mule riding...

You know, General Kling, the destruction of Helga's Jagermeister reserves could be construed as an act of war.

Oh, that's right, we already are at war. Well in that case...

Sir Rat, I trust you have sensibly retained the biologoical agent that the British distributed to us to invoke a blight on all of the grape vines in Europe? Yes, I agree, that should make the Continental System much more onerous for our French brethren.

Glad to see that you are fully recovered Major General. For a few minutes the I was deeply distressed about who's tab we could......er ah, about your dire condition. I am very happy to see it was nothing serious after all. (Heads back to bar).

Yes, yes Helga he is fine keep putting them all on his tab..

_________________
Field Marshal Sir Edward Blackburn, 1st Duke of Aberdeen K.G.
85th (Buck's Light Volunteers) Regiment of Foot
16th British Brigade
7th Division
III (Peninsular) Corps
2nd Battalion, Coldstream Regiment of Foot Guards

Enjoy your jagermeister. You'll need it to help forget the cost of FM Blackburn's tab.

_________________
Marechal Jeff Bardon
Duc de Castiglione et Prince de Wagram
Commandant de la Garde Imperiale

Mon Dieu! Not ze grape viens!! We'll call it a gentleman's agreement, let the consumables stay out of it. -_-

_________________
Dans Les Hussards:
♪ Le hussard, à la guerr' (The Hussar at the War)
Défend fièrement sa bannièr' (Proudly Defends his Banner)
Sans jamais tourner le derrière (Never Turn Back)
Ah ! La belle vi' que l'on mène...♫ (Ah! The Beutiful Life that One Leads...)

To our friends who like to "whine".................

Ach! Ich war zo worried Aber, jetzt ist zeit fur celebration!!!!

Helga, Helga, glasses heir, Bitte!

Danke, mein Schotz,... ja, ja, spater...

Zo, lets us singen to unsere General...



Come, messmates, pass the bottle 'round,
Our time is short, remember,
For our grogg must stop, our spirits drop,
On the first day of September.

For tonight we'll merry, merry be,
For tonight we'll merry, merry be,
Tomorrow we'll be sober.

Farewell old rye, 'tis a sad, sad word,
But alas! It must be spoken,
The ruby cup must be given up,
And the demijohn be broken.

For tonight we'll merry, merry be,
For tonight we'll merry, merry be,
Tomorrow we'll be sober.

Jack's happy days will soon be gone,
To return again, oh never!
For they've raised his pay five cents a day,
But stopped his grogg forever.

For tonight we'll merry, merry be,
For tonight we'll merry, merry be,
Tomorrow we'll be sober.

Yet memory oft' will backward turn,
And dwell with fondness partial,
On the days when gin was not a sin,
Nor cocktails brought court martial.

For tonight we'll merry, merry be,
For tonight we'll merry, merry be,
Tomorrow we'll be sober.

All hands to split the main brace, call,
But split it now in sorrow,
For the spirit-room key will be laid away
Forever, on tomorrow.

For tonight we'll merry, merry be,
For tonight we'll merry, merry be,
Tomorrow we'll be sober.

_________________

Rabble...

Hanoverians...

Running away!

It would appear that General Kling has once again overindulged in his wine. Oh, these Frenchmen. So many of them carry the constitution of a canary.

More Jagermeister here for the celebration, Helga! We are going to teach our erstwhile adversaries how to have a good time if it kills 'em......which unless they are drinking 'old grape juice', it actually might.