|
A gentle rocking was the first sensation he detected; a rhythmic motion that seemed to be urging him to awaken. Consciousness returned slowly to the Hanoverian officer. Eyes still closed, he realized that his head was pounding and there was a strange confinement about his chest. The air was cool on his face and he had a definite sensation of motion. Opening one eye just a slit, the sunlight stabbed into his brain like the lance of a Prussian Uhlan. Choosing the better part of valor, he quickly closed his eyes again, deciding to rely on his other senses at the moment to familiarize himself with his surroundings as his mind slowly began to clear and his memory of Generaal Rietveld’s celebration, and that of his own, slowly wended its way back into his thoughts. Ah, yes, now is the time in which I must pay for the indiscretions of my revelry, he thinks to himself. A bit too much Jager perhaps. No problem, I have been here before, this too shall pass.
Eyes closed, he focuses on the sounds around him. The creak of leather, the clanking of metal, and the voices speaking softly in a familiar, yet foreign language. The scents now began to register in his brain as well, horses, yes definitely horses. Well that would explain the movement. He must be riding somewhere, escorted no doubt by the fine soldiers of the King’s Dragoon Guards. After all, it is the weekend, and time for him to take the field for maneuvers once again. Ah, Generaal Bijl just could not wait for me to recover from my hangover. Duty always seems to call. Still, there was something else nagging at his mind. Something perceived but overlooked; something obvious to his senses that his mind was slow to register. The realization struck him like a thunderbolt, jolting him awake in an instant as his body assumed the full alert of survival mode. Perfume!
Opening his eyes, he instinctively reached for his sword while simultaneously taking in every detail he could garner of his surroundings. Immediately noticeable was the heavy, steel cuirass that was strapped around his torso, restricting his movements and accounting for the tightness he had felt in his chest. The fleeting thought crossed his mind that the King’s Dragoon Guards do not wear a cuirass, but the horror did not truly register until he succeeded in drawing his weapon and noticed that his sword arm was encased in a sleeve of azure blue. The Hanoverian nearly dropped his sword at the realization that he was wearing a French uniform!
Looking quickly about him, he was shocked to see that he was riding in the middle of a large group of Chasseur a Chevals of the French Old Guard. He was even more shocked when he turned to his left to see the officer riding beside him. He immediately recognized the Commander of the vaunted French unit. It was none other than the French Peacock, General Knox himself!
“Put your sword away, Colonel”, said the French General in a calm, steady voice. “It will do you no good here in any case except to ensure your early demise. I took the liberty of loaning you a uniform from another of my units, for if you had retained your own, my loyal men would have cut you to pieces by now. Come, Colonel, we have a battle to fight together, you and I.”
Riding up to the crest of a hill, the town of Leipzig came into view as the Hanoverian officer continued to contemplate the implications of his most recent dilemma.
|
NWC
Login
FAQ
