Napoleonic Wargame Club (NWC)

trudged along the road in the light rain, gait tired but firm. His greatcoat was secured from head to toe and betrayed none of the usual hints of allegiance though his shako had two cockades secured seemingly by a single thin thread, one the tricolor and the other the solid orange of Koning Willem I. A small dog trotted dutifully several steps behind, consigned by the thick mud to the ruts and puddles left by recent artillery carriages. At long last the familiar reflections of light shown on the muddy road and the tavern hove into view.

'Wacht meisje' he whispered to the pup though it was not necessary since the dog had already taken up a familiar spot flush against the building in an attempt to use the short eaves of the building to stay dry. With a slight hesitation the man pulled on the door of the tavern and peered in.

Faces in all manner of uniform and ages looked up from their drinks for a second before resuming their conversations. The campaigner thought he recognized a few though he immediately searched his memory for the faces he hoped he would see but did not locate on first pass...where is Thayer, where is Muddy, Eason, Cumberlidge, Boersma, v. Uythoven, Cox, Counselman, or Peterson and his mind drifted to the fields of battle where he had last seen these brave soldiers. The noise and carnage of his memory made him tense his body and he did not know how long he stood there before the gentle tugging on his overalls by the dog (who recognized that faraway look all too well) brought him back to the more pressing problems of the present...where was Helga??? The old campaigner stepped inside.

My apologies for the long (re) introduction. I think it has been 8 years since my last foray here (with one small relapse during Jena) but the recent announcement of the Leipzig tournament has found its way into my email box. As I had always dreamed of an HPS Leipzig title, it was a no brainer to purchase and now I'd like the opportunity to tangle with a worthy opponent as in days past. I would prefer to try a match before committing to a 'side' since I've been on both sides and I'm unsure how serious I am about returning, but I will commit to finishing what I start. Will someone consider playing a 'man without a country'? If not, I suppose I could enroll in an army to get my opponent their points (perhaps I could start an Aruban army in contrast to the Haitian army I have just read about). Name your Leipzig scenario, preferably small to medium sized and I strongly prefer the various so-called historical options such as the MOE rules, no skirmishers run amok etc etc.

Who will uphold the honor of the club that I remember so fondly???

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<font color="orange">Peon Eric Voogd
Battaillon Nationale Militie No. 5
1e Brigade
2e Nederlandsche Divisie
I Corps
Anglo-Allied Army</font id="orange">

Eric,

Do you live in Tulsa? I am a letter carrier for the US Post Office, and have a resident on my route with your name. Perhaps just a common name.

The red coated Staff Officer of the Anglo-Allied Army sits quietly in his usual place within the Rhine Tavern, his greatcoat draped over the back of the chair beside him and his horse mane, dragoon’s helmet resting on the table near to it. Stretched out on the floor next to his chair is the large German Shepherd that often accompanies him on the days when he performs the paperwork required to maintain the mighty Anglo-Allied Army in the field. His pen is busily transcribing orders, completing requisitions and making minor edits to the tactical manuals arrayed before him.

Glancing up at the opening of the tavern door, his steady, blue gaze falls upon a rain soaked officer that he does not immediately recognize. The stranger carries himself with the air of a battle hardened veteran, but the cockades, yes there are distinctly two, on his shako give a confused impression, one belonging to the Empire of France and the other the familiar orange of his own commanding officer, Generaal Bijl. Knowing that he has sent numerous dispatches to the officers of all armies a few days past, he wonders if one of them might be responsible for the unexpected arrival of this, as of yet, unidentified veteran. Well, there is only one way to find out.

Setting his quill down on the table, he carefully covers his ink well and lays a gentle hand on his canine companion’s head. “Meine Arbeit, Prinz zu schützen. Ich werden nur wenige Augenblicke“, he a says as he pats the dog’s head before rising from his seat and approaching the table where the newly arrived officer has taken a seat.

"Guten abend, Mein Herr“, says the Staff Officer,“it is quite a good evening to take refuge from the rain and enjoy a drink in the company of one’s fellow officers. I am generally familiar with every officer that frequents this tavern, but I do believe that we have not had the pleasure of meeting before. I am Brigadier Jones, the commander of the Hanoverian Brigade of the Anglo-Allied Army. I have also, tempoprarily at least, been assigned the command of the Brunswick Brigade pending the promotion of another officer to assume that command. I would gladly buy you a drink on this damp evening to welcome you to the Rhine Tavern.“

"Helga, would you be so kind as to bring my usual, and whatever this gentlemen prefers?“

Gesturing to an empty chair at the table where the stranger is seated, the Hanoverian officer says, "Mind if I join you?“

I looked once more and saw another new Allied Soldat! Thinking to my self what is this home coming weekend at the beer barrel lodge! Pardon moi if I don't have the etiquette of that Lt Col of the Legers. Am not as polite with someone am about to fight. If you ever have the time monsieur always welcome blood on my sword