Napoleonic Wargame Club (NWC)

If you have raised the hackles of the French, you are in the right place Ensign Hopkins. I'm sure your sword is as sharp as your wit.

Anyone notice the cost of drinks has gone up since all the batons arrived ?

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Feldmarschall Jeff Freiherr Mathes von Krain
50th (Stein) Infantry Regiment
Dritte Brigade
Austrian Korps

The commotion was interrupted by the crashing open of the main door to the tavern. It was a cold night outside and the wind blew in flurries of snow. Sir Muddy took a deep sip of warm ale to fight the cold, and leaned a little closer to the fire. Lucky Jim reached for his sword unsure of the situation . Jones was to drunk to notice, no doubt celebrating another victory.

Shortly a distant sound was heard all strained to hear the strange noise. Then it became clear “ribbit” “ribbit”
Soon a huge amphibian hopped into the tavern. Nay on 4ft long this was surely the biggest one the allied’s had ever laid their eyes on.

It seemed to hop apprehensively looking behind it. The reason soon availed itself with General Knox appearing behind it his sword drawn and poking at its derriere . His uniform rather strangely was still resplendent despite the winter bite and cold flakes the teeth of winter brought.

He pricked the amphibian towards to allied end of the tavern. Soon it became rather agitated and its quills formed heckles and its face formed a grievous look. The beast hopped towards lucky Jim. Soon Muddy was on his feet beside the Field Marshal, the Brigand Jones even managed a slurred ‘buggar me’.

As the amphibian approached Lucky Jim it assumed an aggressive posture, bearing its black stumpy teeth
General Knox paused and then delivered a snap to attention.

“Field marshal I present you with a ‘big frog’ as you do appear to be in need of one.”

With that the amphibian extended a leg and General Knox raised his sword.
The tavern paused, many looked away and then snap the sword crashed to the stone tiles

“Dinner is on me gentlemen” General Knox called out. The allied mob looked on in horror
The big frog was gone and where no one knew.

All that was left was General Knox with a large plate of something with the fresh garlic filling the tavern.

“Escargot gentlemen for everyone. It seems a perfect feast for you sirs. For only an allied officer could possibly move so slowly as to leave such a clear trail and form such an easy meal for a soldier of France”

“Vive L'Empereur”

The whole French end of the tavern joined him and roared a salute to the Tondu.

“Vive L'Empereur, Vive La France”

The allied mob turned to the drunken Jones, the idol muddy and the lucky Jim to see if at least their uniforms were as beautiful of as the famous Guide of the tondu’s body guard.

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Marechal Knox

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

"What is history but a fable agreed upon"

There followed a long pause in the tavern Muddy, Lucky Jim, General Jones, Oberst Mathes all seemed lost for words. The generally patient and gentlemenly General Barlow was his usual reserved self.

The long silence was only penetrated by the occassional "ribbit" from source unknown and the crunching of shells from tables distant.

Even Marechal Bardon wearing a broad smile savoured the silence the allied rabble seemed finally to be lost for words
General Knox retired to the bar with a weary eye caste on the Brigand Jones's rifle tucked neatly in the rack beside the door.

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Marechal Knox

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

"What is history but a fable agreed upon"

Yeah right!

Like I am ever going to be sober!

I do think this exceptional French General may actually have a valid point. In my experience the French officers do move quite quickly, fleeing the field in abject terror as they strip off everything of weight that might slow their departure. I once saw a French Colonel running in nothing save his trousers. No doubt he would have removed them as well but for the fact that he would have been obliged to halt to do so.

As to your most kind offer of the favored, French delicacy, I do believe I will have to pass. Consuming slimy invertebrates is not one of my personal passions, regardless of how adeptly you attempt to mask the flavor with copious amounts of garlic.

Welcome Ensign Hopkins.

Since there hase been a concerted effort to empty your purse, I feel it is only appropriate to empty your father's as well.

Reason, first, we need to continue your welcome to the hallowed halls of the Rhine and to the NWC. Second, I'm thirsty, and as General Jones knows, that in and of itself has been known to cause cash flow issues in several small countries. Third, I despise puffed up aristocrats that buy their way into command, whose only saving grace is that they are easily dispatched by those who rose through merit under the auspices of le Tondu.

Gen. Knox, thank you for the entertainment and the cowing of these brigands of perfidious Albion.

And, Gen. Jones, why do you persist in these delusional tales of some mythic victory? I think you may have finally consumed too much jagermeister. Such things have not occurred in my experience. Indeed, the last time I followed l'Empereur into Belgium, 3 Korps of the Prussian army were utterly destroyed near Charleroi, along with the greater portion of 2 Dutch-Belgian units under the traitorous Prince of Orange. The remanants off your Iron Duke's forces were seen running as fast as possible towards Antwerp.

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Marechal Jeff Bardon
Duc de Castiglione et Prince de Wagram
Commandant de la Garde Imperiale

Pssst......whispers the Hanoverian officer to Ensign Hopkins. "That is the Marechal whose head was grazed by the cannonball at Wagram. It has obviously adversely affected his memory."

Still shaking his head over the frog incident, FM Sir Muddy Jones set down his mug and picked up his pouch. As he headed toward the door, he said something about "exile on an isle in the Atlantic" and the "Little Emperor". He then handed a note to Gen. Jones that read, "if you can find two half talented battlefield commanders amongst this French rabble, then I am ready to take the field; but I doubt you'll be able."

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FM Sir 'Muddy' Jones, KG
2nd Life Guards, 1st Squadron, Household Cavalry
1st Duke of Uxbridge & Anglesey K.G.

Welcome Mr. Hopkins, I see if you caused quite a ruckus on your first night at the Tavern. Well done and keep up the good work. Now can anyone tell me why I just tripped over Gen. Kling outside the Tavern taking off what looked to be a hideous frog costume? I need a drink sirs!!

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Field Marshal Sir Edward Blackburn, 1st Duke of Aberdeen K.G.
85th (Buck's Light Volunteers) Regiment of Foot
16th British Brigade
7th Division
III (Peninsular) Corps
2nd Battalion, Coldstream Regiment of Foot Guards

Salut mon ami!

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Dans Les Hussards:
♪ Le hussard, à la guerr' (The Hussar at the War)
Défend fièrement sa bannièr' (Proudly Defends his Banner)
Sans jamais tourner le derrière (Never Turn Back)
Ah ! La belle vi' que l'on mène...♫ (Ah! The Beutiful Life that One Leads...)

A cry of "Ach Du Lieber!" caused everyone to look towards one of the front window of the tavern. Usually, the Lemon tree, with its fine fruit hanging from the branches was the sight to be seen, but now it was blocked by a figure. It blocked the view to a little bird that was a frequent visitor to the tree, that was busy sticking cockroaches on the sharp barbs on the branches. The figure was soot covered and his uniform showed signs of having been in the field, yes mein Kinder...... Der Wurger ist at der Haus!

My,my, my, Ich cannot belief mein Augen, a Frenchie that singen. Salute Herr French!

Helga, Helga mein Schotz, ein Bier Heir! Ahhhhhh... Das ist Gut! Nein, nein, Ich habe too much mud upon mein boots to come inside.

(sniff, sniff) Was ist das stink? Mein Gott, I haf not smell such a stench fur einer lange Zeit. Was? Nein!? A grosse Frog? Nein! Und snails!?! Entshuldigund.... (barrrfffff) Es tut mir leit.

Was?... Was, einer neuer Ensign. Hmmm, Er ist nicht ein Deutscher ,.... Vell, no matter, es machts nichts, wir muss ein Grosse Zeit haben!

Helga, ja, ja, genau..... Ich habe ein Wagon mit viele French supplies from Grossberren, Trinken fur Alle!

Und jetzt, wir muss ein Lied singen! Ja, ja,... im english, genau..


Come all you jolly fellows and join us in song,
Let thunderous harmony sound.
For if men can still sing then the world’s not so wrong,
And the rafters will ring in a round.
But a man cannot sing if he’s troubled at heart,
As melodies over you steel,
So bring us a drink and we’ll each sing our part,
And our voices with clarity peel.

Bring us more ale here and without fail here.
We’ll go on singing till each song is sung,
Pass round the jugs now; fill up your mugs now,
We shall not stop now that we have begun.
And if you have a song sir as we go along sir,
You’re next to sing but you’re never to think,
We’d let you sing dry sir that’s a foul lie sir,
A drink for each song and a song for each drink.



Ja,ja, Herr General Kling, you can remove your fingers from your ears now.

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