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The Commanding Officer of the Hanoverian/Brunswick Contingents of the Anglo-Allied Army walks into the Rhine Tavern. It is obvious to all who see him that he is fatigued, although the battles he has been waging of late have nothing whatsoever to do with the uniform that he wears. His spirits lift a bit when he sees how crowded the tavern has become in his absence. The room is veritably filled with officers, drinking together in noble camaraderie. Even his beloved mentor and long time battlefield partner, Generaal Moss is present, which is a somewhat rare treat in the tavern these days. Looking around he spies numerous officers from all of the combatant countries for which he bears the deepest respect, many of whom raise their glasses to him as he enters the room.
Heartened by the most cordial welcome, the Brigadier of the Guard Dragoons crosses the room and seats himself at his usual table. He is greeted as usual by the lovely barmaid, Helga, who knowing the Brigadier’s tendencies quite well after his two years of patronizing her establishment, confidently places a shot glass and a bottle of Jagermeister on the table in front of him.
“Ah, just what I need, my dear. Thank you”, he says as he pours the first glass and downs it in a single shot.
“You are welcome”, she says as she places her arms around his neck from behind and rests her lovely head on his shoulder. “I have missed you these last few days.”
“Why thank you, Helga. I have missed you as well”, he replies, “although I must say it looks like you have done quite the booming business in my absence. I am not certain that I have ever seen the Tavern this full or the officers so happy and generous in the purchase of their favored libations.”
“I have something else for you”, coos the lovely barmaid into her favorite Hanoverian’s ear.
“Really, my dear, now is not the time or place”, says the Hanoverian officer, at which point Helga lays a piece of paper on the table in front of the Dragoon Guardsman.
“Eh, what’s this”, says the officer as he picks up the parchment and realizes that it is a bar tab. His eyes grow wide as he reads the number at the very bottom of the page. “Um, Helga my dear, there seems to be some mistake here. I hate to say it, but it appears that your calculations are off by a few decimal places, four to be precise. Surely you do not mean to tell me that I owe this establishment fourteen thousand two hundred eighty three dollars.”
“And fifty seven cents”, says the lovely barmaid.
“No”, answers the Hanoverian in disbelief. “That simply cannot be possible. Why the only way that could happen would be if….” The Hanoverian’s words trial off into silence as he suddenly realizes that every officer in the tavern, every single officer that is, turns to him and raises his glass before downing each subsequent beverage.
Helga giggles and kisses him on the cheek. “Thank you”, she says, “you are truly a marvelous man and I do love you for your generousity.”
“Don’t mention it”, replies the Hanoverian officer in a distant, stunned voice as he pours his second shot of Jager with a decidedly shakier hand that the one with which he poured the first.
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