Napoleonic Wargame Club (NWC)

Ensign Clawson comfortably sat on a small keg of French brandy just outside of the orange tent which was used as the field headquarters for his Commander-In-Chief. Concentrating on sharpening his hunting knife, the old KGL veteran who had just assumed his new command in the Hanoverian Brigade, was constantly distracted by a shadow passing back and forth with disconcerting regularity. “You know, Colonel, if you keep pacing like that, you are sure to wear a hole in your boots before we ever get to see Lt. Generaal Bijl.”

“Sorry about that Ensign, but I cannot help myself”, replied the Hanoverian Lt. Colonel as he paced back and forth, a box of fine, French cigars tucked under his arm. “It always worries me to bring our great commander bad news. The fact that it is a responsibility of rank does not make the task any more palatable.”

The Colonel’s pacing is interrupted by the opening of the tent flap and the emergence of a Dutch-Belgian Captain of the Quartermaster corps. The poor officer is white as a sheet as he casts a furtive glance at the two Hanoverians. Shaking his head as if still reeling from an unseen blow, he hurries off in the direction of the army’s supply train.

Watching the Captain depart, Ensign Clawson says, “Well, I guess that answers the question of the Generaal’s mood this morning, sir.”

Moments after the officer’s departure, Lt. Generaal Bijl appears at the entrance to the tent. Still frowning from his encounter with the Captain, he motions for the two Hanoverian officers to enter. Shouldering the keg of brandy, Ensign Clawson follows his commanding officer into the Generaal’s tent.

Once inside, both Hanoverian officers snap to attention and salute their Commander-In-Chief. “Generaal,” says the Lt. Colonel, “we brought some items recently captured from our French adversaries that we thought you might enjoy.” The Lt. Colonel takes the box he is holding, opens the lid and offers its contents to Generaal Bijl. “Please accept these fine cigars with my compliments, sir, courtesy a French Marechal that I recently defeated.” Raising his eyebrows, Lt. Generaal Bijl admires the proffered box. “We also have a keg of brandy for you, compliments of Ensign Glazier, which he captured in his recent victory over a French General, sir.” The Lt. Generaal motions for Ensign Clawson to set the keg on the corner of his map table. “I thought you might enjoy these while contemplating my recent recommendation for the award of a medal to Ensign Glazier.”

The Lt. Generaal’s frown softens as he says, “Well, gentlemen, I must admit that you Hanoverians do seem to know how to make a proper entrance. So tell me, Lt. Colonel Jones, what information did you gain from the prisoners that I ordered you to capture?”

“Sir,” replies the Lt. Colonel, “it is my unpleasant duty to inform you that we did not obtain any information from French prisoners.”

The Lt. Generaal’s frown quickly returns. “And just exactly why would that be, Lt. Colonel Jones?”

“Because we failed to capture any prisoners, sir.”

The Generaal stares at the Colonel for what seems like an eternity before he interlocks his fingers and, leaning back in his chair says, “Well, it would seem that you owe me a full report. I am all ears, Colonel.”

“The mission started well enough, Generaal. We arrived at the crossroads during the night and set up our equipment as planned. A large mirror was placed astride the pike. We set a table before it, loaded with perfume, moustache wax, mascara, and boot polish. We then retreated to secure hiding places in the nearby woods where we could observe the approach of the French patrols. Shortly after daylight, we were surprised to see a full battalion of French infantry advancing down the pike. The only thing I can figure, sir, is that we must have inadvertently infiltrated their lines between their patrols and the main body. In any case, the battalion advanced cautiously on the crossroads, obviously a bit unsure and to what they were approaching. Once the French realized that is was indeed a mirror that they were facing, they rushed forward en masse so that they could admire their own reflections. They were delighted to find all of the items we had laid before them on the table and immediately set about primping as is their custom. That is when the plan started to fall apart, sir.”

“Go on,” said Lt. Generaal Bijl.

“Well,” continued Lt. Colonel Jones, “the Frenchmen began to polish their boots, wax their moustaches, and spray perfume upon one another. I think they were becoming frustrated because the mirror that we had used was too small for the reflection of a full battalion of men; after all, we had intended to snare only a small patrol. One French soldier who was obviously proud of his newly waxed moustache whirled around a bit too quickly to show his comrades what a fine job he had done. In his haste, he bumped the arm of a Frenchman who was spraying perfume. He in turn accidentally sprayed another Frenchman in the eyes who stumbled backwards into his comrade who was busy applying mascara. Poking himself in the eye, this Frenchman screamed in pain and jumped up causing yet another Frenchman to spill boot polish all over his uniform. As you might imagine, sir, it was not long before knives were drawn, shots rang out, and the whole situation devolved into a bloody mayhem. When the chaos subsided, sir, there simply were no prisoners to take.”

“Do you mean to tell me that you destroyed a six hundred man French infantry battalion with a mirror and some moustache wax?” the Lt. Generaal asks incredulously.

“No, sir. They actually destroyed themselves, we never fired a shot,” replied the Lt. Colonel. “Perfume, boot polish and mascara were involved as well, and the actual body count was only five hundred ninety-three.”

“I see,” said Lt. Genearall Bijl.

“There was one other unfortunate incident that I should report, sir.”

“And what would that be, Lt. Colonel?” asks the Lt. Generaal Bijl.

“The French captured our mirror, sir,” replies the Lt. Colonel. “You see, the battalion we encountered turned out to be the vanguard of the French main body. Seeing the carnage before them, their Emperor decided to commit the Imperial Guard to remove the threat occupying the crossroads. It was a bad mistake, for as the French Guardsman approached the mirror, they began to shake with fear for, as we Allied officers all know, there are no other soldiers in the world who are more affected by their own appearance. What had happened to the regular infantry would have only proven to be a minor sideshow compared to the debacle of placing French guardsman in such a position of overwhelming temptation.”

“So the French Emperor recalled the Guard then?” asks Lt. Generaal Bijl.

“No, sir. The Imperial Guard actually recoiled of their own accord at which point the French Emperor committed a group of Westphalians, as he now knew that none of his French troops were capable of accomplishing their mission. The Westphalians advanced on the mirror with averted eyes and succeeded in covering it with large flour sacks. Once the reflection had been eliminated, the mirror posed no further threat to La Grande Armee.” The Lt. Colonel fell silent, his report concluded.

“Lt. Colonel Jones, you realize that I should put you on report for dereliction of duty as you failed to capture, and interrogate, French prisoners as ordered,” says Lt. Generaal Bijl.

“Yes, sir,” replies Lt. Colonel Jones.

“Fortunately for you,” continues the Lt. Generaal, “I have far too much other paperwork to deal with at the moment. You are both dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir,” says the Lt. Colonel. Taking advantage of the moment, he salutes his Commander-in-Chief and leaves the tent closely followed by Ensign Clawson.

Lt. Generaal Bijl rises from his chair and, picking up one of the cigars from the box left by the Lt. Colonel, walks to the tent opening. Deftly cutting off the end of the cigar, the Commander-in-Chief of the Anglo-Allied army watches the commander of his Hanoverian brigade depart. Lighting the cigar, he thinks to himself, Whatever am I going to do with that man? Taking a long drag on the cigar, he realizes that it is indeed of the very finest quality. Whatever am I going to do with him indeed? Glancing back into his tent, he remembers the keg of brandy and wonders if it is of the same fine quality. Well, there is only one way to be certain. Ensign Glazier was it? Yes, he just might be deserving of a medal after all.

Walking side by side down the road, Ensign Clawson pulls two cigars from his coat, handing one of them to Lt. Colonel Jones. “Well, that went well,” said the Ensign as he lit his cigar while never averting his eyes from the road ahead. “Hmmpf,” replies the Lt. Colonel as he lights his own cigar. “Yes, I do suppose it could have been worse.” The two Hanoverian officers continue on in silence, enjoying their cigars, the warm spring day and their momentary respite from their other pressing duties.

As the two Allied officers sauntered down the lane each within their own thoughts a smile passed over the Ensigns face. The Colonel looked over and said with much sarcasm,

"And what, are you smiling about Sir Rat?"

Well Colonel, Thinking back to the mirror story you just told the General made me think of what happened years ago on a beautiful spring day much like this one. I was going to the tavern to see Heidi and just as I was about to enter, there was a French Officer standing perfectly still. I thought he was dead, but as I walked over I saw a street artist drawing his likeness on a piece of parchment. I went in and spend over two hours in the wonderful company of my Heidi. As I was leaving, there the Frenchman still stood. I looked down and chuckled at what I saw. The artist said he was finished and as the Frenchman came and looked at the drawing he scowled and shouted, "Not good enough, do it again and make me look prettier!" The artist threw his drawing aside and started anew. I picked up the drawing and saved it. Thought now might be a good time to share it with you.

With that, the old soldier reached into his seeming bottomless knap and brought forth this:



See my friend, now you know why I call them peacocks.

The Colonel smiled, shook his head, and then broke into uncontrollable laughter. Smiling at the Ensign, he said,

" Come, let me buy you a drink" and they continued walking, only now towards the tavern.........

As the junior officer known as the rat continued his jokes he was shocked to see a black charger canter down the road with a French guardsman with his sword drawn and the sun at his back. As he approached the over inflated junior officer he put his sword up to his neck. The rat was stunned as the sun reflected off the gawdy uniform of the beautifully atired guide. His huge colpak and magnificient horse adding to the impression.

'Sir you should be careful insulting we French. Not that I am sure being called a peacock is an insult considering your rather dowdy uniform and demeanor, not to mention your handle. Perhaps I shall have Ratatouille for dinner soon if you don't refrain. I warn you sir you will find my blade amongst the coldest in the club. However before you reel off a challenge you will have to gain rank to earn the right to be skewered by me. If you care I can add you to my victim in waiting list'

_________________
Marechal Knox

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

"What is history but a fable agreed upon"

The Hanoverian Lt. Colonel removes the cigar from his mouth, carefully exhaling the smoke away from the French Guardsman and his fine charger. After all, the situation is rather tenuous at the moment, and any action which might cause the General’s mount to flinch could have catastrophic consequences for the Hanoverian’s newest recruit.

“Ensign Clawson,” says the Lt. Colonel, “I would like you to meet General d’Division Knox, Commander of the Chassuers a Cheval of the French Vielle Garde. Now, whereas his skill with a rifle often misses the Mark, his proficiency with a mounted sword knows no rival. He speaks the absolute truth when he says that his blade is amongst the coldest in the club. To be totally honest with you, I cannot say that I envy your position at this very moment.”

“General d’Divsion Knox,” the Lt. Colonel continues, “it is my immense pleasure to introduce you to Ensign Scott ‘The Rat’ Clawson, a former officer of the King’s German Legion and, hopefully this is not to be the case, the man having the shortest tenure as a Hanoverian officer on record.”

Once again addressing the Hanoverian Ensign, the Lt. Colonel says, “Now in the present situation, it is patently obvious that the good French General could dispatch you at will. Of course, were he to harm you in any way, I would be certain to shoot him dead on the spot before he could do any further mischief. I am not quite as good with this pistol as I am with my rifle, but I am sufficiently talented to be universally deadly at this range. The only problem being that you would be oblivious to my beautiful marksmanship as you would already be dead. Besides that, the discharge of my weapon in such close quarters would doubtless scare this fine charger, and that would just not be fitting treatment of so magnificent an animal. No Ensign Clawson, the only solution I see to the present quandary, is for you to very slowly reach into your inner coat pocket and offer the good General the last of those fine cigars you are carrying. After which we could meet him in the tavern and buy him a drink, seeing as how he missed your celebration the other evening.”

“What do you say, gentlemen? Can we come to an agreement?”

As a bead of sweat, slowly rolled down the Ensigns nose, he slowly reached up, and ever so carefully removed the tip of the Frenchman's blade from the spot on his neck where with one slight wrist movement would cause the life of "The Rat" to be cut short. With a tremor in his voice, the Ensign says

"We smoked the last 2 cigars as we were walking, I have nothing to offer but am willing to buy the General a few rounds"

"General, I trust that will be sufficient" asks Lt Col Jones

With not a trace of emotion on the Generals face, he looks at both Allied Officers and says........

The stern look gradually faded as the Frenchman developed a hint of a smile , the Ensigns first encounter with one of Napoleon's sacred band had had the desired effect . The guides were certainly full of Bravado perhaps even a little Peacock like but being told that's the case would always draw a reaction.

'hmmm a drink with dowdy Hanoverians. Well only if you were to buy my favourite Margaux and a few truffles for my horse. You will also find we French pay our way so I shall reciprocate although I suspect our wine may be wasted on you. A final question sirs when is Hanover coming over to the Empire of enlightement?'

With that he sheaved his sword and dismounted. With a quick glance at Colonel Jones he also made his final comment before walking into the Tavern 'Colonel you should know by now the bullet that shall kill me has not yet been caste'

_________________
Marechal Knox

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

"What is history but a fable agreed upon"

"No doubt that is true, my dear General." replied the Hanoverian Lt. Colonel, "Besides, I would never have taken a shot at you unless I had no other alternative. You see my great adversary,” the colonel says with a wry grin, “if I did by some great miracle manage to kill you, how on earth would I ever retrieve my beloved sword which you have so cleverly hidden?”

“Now, regarding the possibility of us fighting for the same side, allow me to propose a counter offer.………..”

The debate continued long into the evening, and well beyond the point of total inebriation.