Napoleonic Wargame Club (NWC)

Excellent and even that Hanoverian Colonel may have gotten in his last word, but stay away from our women sounded more of a whine than a threat. The only error you made is letting them know the ladies are happy to with men who bath before they woo lovely ladies.

Thanks Lt Schmidgall and remember to Battle On

Drawing his blade, the Hanoverian Guardsman urges his horse into a cantor and ascends the gentle slope, followed closely by his Russian comrades. Upon reaching the summit he pulls up short. There before him, the left wing of the Saxon Army is steadily withdrawing under cover of a rear guard formed by the Leib Kurrassier.

“The enemy is withdrawing, Comrade Colonel”, says the Russian officer by his side. “I thought they would have been attacking.”

“They would have been, Podporuchik, but they heard the Russian Hussars were coming,” replies the Colonel. Turning to face the young Russian, the Hanoverian breaks into a broad grin, “They are deathly afraid of you Russians, mein Herr.”

Boom! A Russian Horse Battery discharges just to the left of the officers on the hill. Five more Saxon Hussars topple from their saddles, never to rise again.

With a bemused look, the Hanoverian says, “I guess they miscalculated our range.”

Now Lt Schmidgall you are showing your true potential as a warrior of France. Don't concern yourself with the comments of all these servants of the perfidous Albion's merchants. They are merely frustrated that their ladies long for a fresh French conquest.

Colonel Jones perhaps you could advise your officers to let their ladies know that they need not pine the legions of France march as we speak.

Helga my cologne please.

_________________
Marechal Knox

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

"What is history but a fable agreed upon"

"Shall we charge after them Comrade Colonel", inquires the Commander of the Russian Hussars, "and ride them under like the chaff that they are?"

Surveying the opposite crest, the Hanoverian Commander sees his Saxon enemies unlimbering numerous batteries.

"No, that path is too dangerous," replies the Colonel. "A frontal assault is reserved as a last, desperate act, or is simply the product of a deficient imagination."

Looking to his left, the Colonel admires a long ridgeline leading from his position directly into the heart of the enemy's lines. A ridgeline that will conceal all movement from prying Saxon eyes and provide secure shelter from the artillery of their foe.

"No, Podporuchik," says the Hanoverian with a devilish grin, "there is a better way."

The Saxon troops watch as a neat row of Russian battalions crest the ridge slope.
Orders ring out, and the gunners begin to prepare a round of welcoming shot, as infantry take post to provide protection... ahem...
Before the soldiers even know what is happening, a storm of cavalry sweep over them, destroying numerous cannon and routing away the battalions.
GD, Count Reynier surveys the scene of sudden carnage, and immediately barks out fresh orders.
First bloody blow is struck, and the Allies gain the round.
How many rounds in a battle?

No Mark, we passed off the horse faced ones long ago to the French. And yes, they NEEDED plenty of perfume!

AR AR AR AR!

_________________


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)

Cresting the hill behind the leading squadron of Russian Hussars, the Hanoverian Colonel is conspicuous in his bright, red coat. His presence in the front lines offers a readily discernable target for enemy gunners, but the German Colonel seems totally unconcerned for his own safety. In truth, there are few enemies left that present any immediate danger. To his right he sees a squadron of green clad Hussars spur their mounts to a gallop, easily overtaking a second foot battery of enemy artillery that had desperately tried to limber and flee. To his left, an entire battalion of Saxon infantry discard their weapons at the steady advance of the infantry battalions of the Russian Grenadiers. Two horse batteries unlimber in the center, spewing hot death upon a squadron of Saxon Leib Kuirassiers that have strayed a bit too close.

The Hanoverian Commander studies the scene for a moment more before beckoning for a dispatch rider to attend him. He quickly scribbles an order on a piece of parchment, hands it to the rider, and leans in close so that he can be heard above the din. “Tell Der Wurger….", the discharge of the horse batteries drown out the Colonel’s words to all except the messenger who nods his understanding before spurring his horse into a gallop towards Lieutenant Peccolo’s position.

As the Colonel straightens in his saddle, he spies a burly, Russian Grenadier escorting a Saxon Lt. General to the rear. The enemy officer is obviously stunned and still not completely comprehending what has just transpired. Ah, our first prisoner of notable merit, thinks the Hanoverian to himself as he sweeps the battlefield with his steady blue gaze, with so many more yet to come.

The officer of Tirailleurs had wondered after losing the first round of combat to the Russians, how many rounds were in a battle?
The answer, regardless of the quantity, was not to be satisfactory in his POV.
The Russian infantry hordes, cavalry squadrons, and death dealing artillery of the Siberian Thunder shattered the ranks of the Saxon corps, and after much schlacht (slaughter), the GD, Count Reynier, in an effort to spare his men any more suffering, has ordered the Lieutenant to wave the white flag, and seek admittance to the Allied headquarters.

The young French Lieutenant did not have far to travel, for as he approached the Russian lines bearing his white flag, the location of the Hanoverian Commander was obvious. Conspicuous in his bright red coat, the Hanoverian Guardsman was easily spotted in the middle of a large group of Russian Kuirassiers, reorganizing their ranks and readying them for another fateful charge. Upon seeing the French officer’s approach, the Colonel reined in his horse and patiently waited.

In flawless German, the French Tirailleur addressed his erstwhile foe, “Guten tag, Herr Colonel. I have been sent by my commanding general to seek terms.”

Impressed by this officer’s ability and foresight to address him in his native tongue, the Hanoverian replied, “Guten tag, Herr Leutnant. The only terms I am permitted to grant under the circumstances would be an immediate and unconditional surrender.”

“I understand, sir”, replied the French Tirailleur. “I am authorized to offer you exactly that.”

“Well in that case”, said the Hanoverian, “we have an agreement. Your sword, sir.”

Resigned to his duty, the young French Tirailleur unfastened his sword belt and handed it to the mounted Colonel.

“There is one further thing that you need to understand”, said the Hanoverian as he accepted the proffered weapon.

“Ja, mein Herr”, asked the French Lieutenant.

Leaning forward in his saddle, the Hanoverian Commander directly meets the young Lieutenant’s gaze and said, “We Hanoverians never take prisoners.”

The Russian Kuirassiers gathered around the hapless Frenchmen grin in anticipation as they drew their swords preparing for an easy kill of their most hated foe. A large lump rises in the Tirailleur’s throat as he suddenly realizes that his short time on this Earth is about to come to a most abrupt end.

The Hanoverian officer completes his statement. “You are free to go. Meet me in the Rhine Tavern later and we shall have a drink together. I will return your sword at that time. I merely need to borrow it long enough to log the serial number into the Anglo-Allied Army Records System.” Glancing about at the stunned and crestfallen look on the faces of the Russian Kuirassiers, the Colonel says, “Escort the good Lieutenant safely back to his lines. He is a most brave and honorable opponent so by my orders you will treat him with the utmost respect.”

“Da, comrade Colonel”, replied the Russian cavalryman, “we follow you as always.”

Turning back to the Tirraileur, he said, “And to be certain of this, I will have ‘Der Wurger’ accompany you. He has a most excellent singing voice, and if you are indeed lucky, may even grace you with a song to lift you spirits along the journey. After all, it has been a long and rather trying day.”

Feeling the strength return to his legs as he realized the Russian blades would not at this time be striking him with cutting blows, the Tirailleur Lieutenant saluted the Colonel as he was turned about to be led away.
Then the words last spoken by the Colonel slowly registered in his brain. " A most excellent singing voice, with a song to lift your spirits."
"NO! Not that! Not the Shrike!"

You are a most excellent officer, Lieutenant Schmidgall. {Salute!}