Napoleonic Wargame Club (NWC)

It is a quiet, cool evening as the Hanoverian Lt. Colonel enters the tavern. Tucked under his right arm, just below the gold staff cords that have been added to his pristine new coat, is a folded leather brief. The tavern is relatively empty tonight. Most of the officers seem to be absent, probably engaged in the constant campaigns. Turn this flank, refuse that flank, and march, march, march until the soles are worn off your boots. Ah, the warfare never ends. With a heavy sigh, the Lt. Colonel thinks to himself, And the paperwork never ends either.

He passes a Frenchman lying comotose on a table, his hand still grasping the bottle of wine he was drinking. Amazing that, even in his inebriated state, the bottle remains upright. He had not wasted a drop. In the far corner, near the wall, he spies the Commander of the Russian Armies, papers strewn all about his table, his pen furiously moving over the orders being issued for the following day. The Hanoverian slowly shakes his head, realizing that his current burden could be far worse. Reaching his usual table, he takes a seat and spreads out the contents of his brief; several sheafs of parchment, a few writing quills and a carefully stoppered bottle of ink.

"Well, what do we have here? You look much nicer than the last time we saw you."

The Lt. Colonel turns to meet the radiant smile and dancing blue eyes of the woman that all of the officers have come to love, whether they have the fortitude to admit the fact or not.

Returning her smile, the Lt. Colonel replies, "Why thank you, Helga. But of course you realize it will not last. I will be back in the front lines soon enough and it is not my habit to lead from the rear. I fear that this fine new coat will yet suffer the consequences of my actions."

"Well, you are finely dressed tonight at least", she replies. "So what will it be to help see you through your duties tonight? The usual?"

"No, Helga, tonight I think I need something a bit slower. Something to sip rather than shoot. How about a glass of Courvoisier?"

Helga raises her beautiful eyebrows in surprise. "Courvoisier? Really? You know that is a favorite of the French officers", she replies.

"Yes, Helga. It is a favorite of the French Emperor himself, so I am told. That is exactly why I am requesting it tonight, not to emulate the Corsican madman as do the French officers, but to perhaps gain a better understanding of him as I wade through this mound of beauracracy lying before me. Know your enemy, my dear Helga. One should always strive to know one's enemy."

The quiet of the eve is broken by the door creaking open. Only a few heads turn to see a shadowy figure creep into the tavern. He makes his way to a table at the back. No ones seems the least bit interested in the stranger. He sits for a time, immersed in his own thoughts and finally looks up and draws the attention of the barmaid. She slowly walks to his table and with a sound of total disinterest says,

"Haven't seen you here here before, just who are you and what do you want?"

"Just a stranger looking for a bit of refreshment,..............something cool and cheap".

As she turns and starts to walk away, she hears the stranger mutter "Thank you" under his breath, well at least he has some manners she thinks to herself.

The stranger now has attention on the soldier who is working through a pile of papers. He wonders if he should approach him and ask the question that is burning across his brain. Maybe in a bit. The Frenchman is still comatose, normal for their kind.

The barmaid brings a large tankard of a deep brown ale that looks very refreshing. Once again the stranger says thank you.

"So, just who are you and what brings you here?"

The stranger looks up and is immediately drawn to the bluest eyes he ever remembers seeing. After what seemed an eternity he said to her,

"I am Herr Clawson, an old soldier looking for a new regiment. I was with the Kings German Legion before, but that was a while back. They nick named "The Rat" because of the way I treated the little tyrants men............................So who is the Colonel sitting there working on his papers, and what happened to his uniform?"

"His name is Herr Jones,he is a Lt Colonel in the Hanoverian Brigade, and everybody knows me as Helga. Let me know when you want another" as she was walking away!

Once again she heard the stranger say thank you.

Herr Clawson sat there thinking about what he should say, what should he ask? Maybe after a drink or two, he will wander over and see if the Colonel has any room in his brigade for and old rat soldier.....

Mark,

You gotta recruit this guy! He's top notched, and a good gamer.

Welcome "Herr Rat"!!

Helga approaches the table where the Hanoverian officer is busily engrossed in his assigned staff duties. “How are you doing, Colonel? May I get you another drink?” she asks.

“Sure, I’m up for another” he replies.

“By the way, you seem to have an admirer tonight”, she says.

“Really” he says as he looks around the tavern. “It’s not that crazed, French Chassuer is it. The last time he turned his attention on me, he damn near took off my hand with that errant shot of his.”

“No”, she replies nodding toward a table near the back of the tavern, “a man that I have never seen here before. He says he was a former officer in your army. King’s German Legion I believe. He mentioned that he was looking for a new regiment.”

“Indeed! Well it just so happens”, says the Hanoverian officer as he sets his quill aside, “that our venerable commander, Lt. Generaal Bijl, assigned me another task in addition to this paperwork.”

“And exactly what would that be?” Helga asks.

“Well, other than charming the most beautiful ladies of course”, he says rising to his feet as Helga raises a flirtatious eyebrow, “I have been assigned the duty of helping Gereraal Moss recruit new officers for our fine army. I do believe”, he says as he carefully places the stopper in his ink well “that the successful recruitment of a veteran, German officer would be a very fine start.” Leaning close to the beautiful bar maid, the Hanoverian officer whispers in her ear, “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, Colonel” she says with a radiant smile as she deftly picks up his empty glass and slips away toward the bar.

The Hanoverian officer gathers his papers and other items into his leather brief before taking it with him as he walks toward the table of this curious stranger. “Guten abend, Mein Herr. Mind if I join you?”

Shortly after Herr Clawson enters the Tavern, A French Marechal enters. In his gis crisp clean uniform and a leather satchel at his side.

He nods and smiles at Helga and nods that he will take the table by the fire as is his custom.

Helga approcahes and places a bottle of brandy and a clean glass on the table.

"Will that be all?" she ask the Marechal.

"Actually, I see Jones over there and he looks to be promoted" Must be despaerte in the allied armies he thinks to himself.

"Perhaps You could places his drinks on my tab?"

After Helga leaves, he opens the satchel and begins his own paperwork.

_________________

Not as desperate as the Grand Poohbah of the French army bestowing "Prince" this and "Count" that on anyone that can swing a sword! Our officer EARN their merits!

Any Fred and Barney in the French army can earn a title!

_________________


Generalfeldmarschall Wilhelm Prinz Peters von Dennewitz

3. Husaren-Regiment, Reserve-Kavallerie, Preußischen Armee-Korps

Honarary CO of Garde-Ulanen Regiment, Garde-Grenadier Kavallerie

NWC Founding Member

For Club Games: I prefer the Single Phase mode of play. I prefer to play with the following options OFF:

MDF, VP4LC, NRO, MTD, CMR, PR, MIM, NDM, OMR (ver 4.07)

Well, you know, Lt. Generaal Bijl can only work with the hand he is dealt. Not at all his fault really.

Thank you for the drinks, Marechal Corbin!

I happen to like my grande title! Bill perhaps if you were not on the down side of advantage in your results you might be given something pretentious next to your name like we French.

_________________
Marechal Knox

Prince d'Austerlitz et Comte d'Argentan
Ordre national de la Légion d'honneur

"What is history but a fable agreed upon"

Naw, I know the rules: you guys hold a Monthly garlic eating contest. Winner gets a new title!

And I won plenty of games before in armies. Never got a title for it. It's the old boy network as usual. Permeates these clubs ... sheesh, I even got a title just for showing up in Prussian uniform. If they would give me a title they would give one to anyone!

(meanwhile Herr Corbin runs out of ink, cries in dismay and calls out to Helga for a fresh supply - can't miss out on handing out the winner of this month's contest ...)

_________________


Generalfeldmarschall Wilhelm Prinz Peters von Dennewitz

3. Husaren-Regiment, Reserve-Kavallerie, Preußischen Armee-Korps

Honarary CO of Garde-Ulanen Regiment, Garde-Grenadier Kavallerie

NWC Founding Member

For Club Games: I prefer the Single Phase mode of play. I prefer to play with the following options OFF:

MDF, VP4LC, NRO, MTD, CMR, PR, MIM, NDM, OMR (ver 4.07)

As the old soldier sat watching the fire, he was amused to see a peacock strut in and place himself at a table. He could almost smell the over abundance of cheap toilet water the Frenchman had splashed upon himself. For an instant their eyes met and a slight nod was give by each, to the other.

As he sat thinking, Helga suddenly looked over and gave him a shocked smile. Ah, now she remembers. The years melted away and she scurried back to the bar and busied herself, searching for something, she knew it was there somewhere. There! Found it! He could see her looking at it with a face full of memories. Hopefully good!

She picked up a small glass and filled, then another! She tucked something away and brought the two small liquid filled glasses over and sat them at the old mans table. She looked down and then said,

"I know who you are now, you were the man my cousin Heidi was so fond of years ago. You broke her heart when you went away! You know she still works her. She helps me out from time to time."

Yes, Helga, you remember me! Time has been very kind to you but not so for me! Heidi was a very special lady! I spent many a night wondering what could have been. What were you searching for over there?

"Here, look at this! Heidi has kept it ever since you left. It was a drawing of the two of us on the night you left! Heidi was toasting you. She has never let it leave the tavern. She said you would someday return.

"Heidi, she hasn't changed at all! She still has that vibrant smile and infectious set of eyes."

The old man looked down and tears welled in his bloodshot eyes. Yes both Heidi and Helga were beautiful and still are.




As he was beginning to become lost in his own thoughts, he heard the Colonel cough as to get Helga's attention. As he look over, he saw the peacock splash more water on his neck. How humorous he thought. Helga looked at him and said,

"I better tend to the other customers, I'll be back"

Please do, the old man said, and with that he went back to staring at the picture of days long gone.

"Entschuldigen Sie, Mein Herr", says the Hanoverian Lt. Colonel, "it would seem that you have already met our dear Helga. Unfortunately, you and I have not yet had the same privalege. I am Lt. Colonel Jones, the commander of the fine Hanoverian Brigade of the Anglo-Allied Army. I hear that you are a veteran of foreign wars, a former officer of the King's German Legion no less. I salute you my fellow Hanoverian! We have need of good soldiers such as yourself. So tell me, what would it take to convince you to take up arms with us?"

The old man slowly looked up from the picture he had been studying and looked upon the soldier standing before him,

"Guten Tag Oberstleutnant, yes Helga and I are old friends. I knew her cousin Heidi years ago, but that was another time and another place. I am Herr Clawson, and yes, I am an old soldier from the Kings Legion. Of course I guess we are soldiers of the Kings Legion. It has been years since I have seen Helga or Heidi. Their eyes still sparkle and their smiles still infectious. Jones, is it? Well Jones, I suppose since I have no other plans in my future, I will ask for command of a Battalion. Rank is of no importance to me, the death of those like the peacock sitting over there is only my concern, look at him, he has splashed more water on his face than he has put in his mouth................. Yes Jones, I would be more than happy to lead a Battalion, but for now, let me enjoy my drink and reminisce by looking at Heidi and Helga"

With that the old man returned his gaze to the picture sitting on the table....

"Herr Clawson, I will make a recommendation for your commission in our brigade to my Commander in Chief, Lt. Generaal Bijl. Any man who wishes to fight the hated French should be given the opportunity to do so. They are not bad chaps, really. More that they are easily led and susceptible to the dominance of a charismatic madman. Personally, I hold the diminutive Corsican to blame. The misguided men who follow him have the great misfortune to become tragic casualties on the battlefield. Such is the nature of war, Herr Clawson. And now if you will excuse me, mein Herr,” says the Lt. Colonel, “I must return to my duties.”

Looking at the picture sitting on the table, the Lt. Colonel says, “Sehr schöne, mein Herr. Sehr schöne in der Tat. I wish you the best of luck in your reunion.” With that, the Lt. Colonel leaves the veteran officer alone with his thoughts, returning to his usual table. Once again spreading out his papers, he resumes his writing.

Nearly twenty minutes pass in relative silence, broken only by the scratching of quills on parchment, the shuffling of papers and the occasional muttering of the drunken, French officer draped across the table near the center of the tavern. Interrupting the pensive mood, a Hanoverian courier enters the tavern, his uniform covered in dust from a long, hard ride. Immediately spotting his commanding officer, he strides over to the Lt. Colonel who is deeply immersed in his duties. “Sir,” says the courier as he draws himself to attention, “I have an urgent message for you from the front lines.”

Setting his quill aside, the Lt. Colonel accepts the note from the young courier. Carefully unfolding it, he takes a moment to read the message contained therein. As he does so, the Hanoverian Lt. Colonel begins to smile. Looking over at the French Marechal Corbin, he says “Well, sir. It would seems that perhaps I should be buying you a drink this evening as a measure of consolation. It appears that one of our fine, Hanoverian Ensigns has just captured the sword, his very first, of one of your esteemed Generals on the fields south of Brussels. I will have to be sure to recommend him for a medal for his gallantry in action.”

Handing the courier a note of his own, the Lt. Colonel instructs him, “See this is safely delivered to Lt. Generaal Bijl as a fine, veteran officer is seeking placement in our brigade.” The Lt. Colonel returns the salute of the Hanoverian courier as he dismisses him to his duties. Gathering his papers and instruments back into his brief, the Lt. Colonel stands and again addresses the French Marechal, “Please excuse me sir, but the message further stated that your esteemed Commander in Chief, Marechal Jenson, has issued a challenge to me for a martial contest of arms. My honor demands that I now respond. Where does this end, good Marechal? First the French assassin GdD Knox, then you, followed by your teaming with the Commander of the Vieille Garde, Marechal Bardon, and now your Commander in Chief himself. Quite a lot of attention for one humble Hanoverian, I must admit. Well, as Generaal Moss always told me in my training, ‘Cadet Jones, retreat is a measure reserved only for one’s enemies!’ I do, however, thank you for the drink you provided. I will return the favor one day soon.”

With that, the Lt. Colonel tucks his brief back under his arm, nods to the Great Commander of the Russian Armies and exits the tavern. Herr Clawson, deep in thoughts of his past, fails to notice the departure of his future commander.