Napoleonic Wargame Club (NWC)

It was a crisp day for early Fall with a slight touch of the cold of winter around the edges. A few of the trees had started to drop leaves, and the slight wind pushed them about until they started to pile here and there by rocks, walls and fences. The stable boy, with a bit of idle time, sat holding a long piece of tasseled grass. As he stirred it about the ground, the cat Josephine, was intent on trying to catch the end as the boy tried to make the cat spin in circles. He giggled at the cats efforts. Looking up he could see a rider coming down the road to the Tavern.

The rider was on a splendid mount. The horse was a shiny chestnut with four bold socks and a small star on the forehead. The boy felt he was a good judge of horse flesh from lessons he had received from the Stable Master, Marechal Bardon and General Jones. This was a fine horse! The boys eyes were unfortunately drawn to the rider whom he stared at. The rider, was dressed in a Hussar uniform, but the boy did not notice for he only saw the riders face, the left side of his face. The rider was use to such events so he slightly inclined his face to present its right side and asked the boy to feed, water and groom his horse and handed the boy a coin. After removing his spurs and handing them to the boy the rider then headed towards the Tavern.

The rider had never been to the Tavern. He had heard tales told of it, and since he had finally been allowed back to the Continent during the war, had made it a point to stop by and visit his fellow countrymen. As he stepped thru the door he noticed that there were a few patrons scattered about. A barmaid approached from his left, “May I help yo….”, her inquiry cut off as she took in the visage of his left profile. He turned his head and took her in with his good right eye. “I am hoping to meet some friends and it appears they have not arrived yet. If you could please, I would like a glass of Claret to clear my throat. I shall take it over there by the fire.”

As he strode across the room, he picked up the scent of the perfume of some French dandy. He felt a twinge in his left arm, a reminder of that day at Tourcoing when he caught a whiff of that cannon ball. He found a decent smoking chair by the fire and turned it so he could watch the door with his right eye and the left side of his face was to the fire, unseen by the rest of the room. But, his arrival had not been unnoticed by the French.

The French Lieutenant had almost wet himself when he saw the Hussar. He felt that he had a keen eye for uniforms and had quickly identified the uniform as British, 15th Hussars (or Light Dragoons). But the face! And the reputation of the man who wore it! This man was a legend. He had hoped in his life to some day get a brief visage of Napoleon. That was the stuff dreams were made of. But, here and now, not even a stones throw away sat Royalty and a fearsome warrior. He needed to tell his friends and he almost tripped over his sword as he stumbled out the door. The rider caught the movement, and chuckled to himself at the Rube. It reminded him of the day he grabbed a French Dragoon from his mount and physically carried him back to camp as a prisoner.

His drink arrived just as he put his feet up and relaxed. Outside, a little bird was sitting atop the Lemon tree, singing its song, while above a Falcon circled where it spied a rat scurrying in the bushes and some even said they heard a wolf howl in the distance.

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O, le O ley,
O, le O la,
O de lay de whoooo!

O, le O Ley,
O, le O la,
O, de lay de whooo!

The sound carried across the meadows, as scattered low puffy clouds of white tinged with grey slowly slid across the blue sky.

Yes Kinder, Der Wurger is coming to das Haus

As he came thru the door he made his usual greeting, "Helga, Helga you kleine minx, kommen Sie heir und bringen Sie mir ein Bier!!"

Taking a long drink from the tankard, he wiped his mouth and claimed, "Ach! Das ist die Beste! Prima!"

Glancing about the assemblage in the room, his eyes soon came to the man seated at the fire. It it took only a moment before his eyes went wide with recognition. Setting his tankard down, he immediately marched to the man, came to attention, and saluted, and said, "Herr Lieutenant General, Ich bin Colonel Peccolo von der Feld Jager Korps" "Darf Ich Ihnen helfen?"

The man in the chair took in the officer before him, slightly nodded his head, returned the salute and said, " You may stand at ease dear Colonel, or should I say Wurger, and please take a seat here beside me. I have but a brief time in my journeys and desired to meet the men leading the best of our country, I was told that you all can occasionally be found here, so I have detoured for an afternoon with hopes to meet as many of you as possible."

"Ja Herr General, es ist true that we are here. Usually ve gather at the tafel over there, where ve enjoy good food, good drink, good company und ve sing!" "I expect that some of the other vill be along soon."

"Splended, I so look forward to a mess with the other officers. I hear that you are quite the singer was that you singing before you entered the Tavern?"

"Ja, ja, Ich kenne many Lied Herr General, aber as I arrived you heard mein pferde, Es ist ein singing pferde! "

"A singing horse!?! Remarkable, but then, we do produce some fine animals. Could you sing a song for me now?"

"Vhy of course Herr General, Helga, Helga, mein Bier to wet mein whistle. Aaaaahh, das ist gut. Eine Lied, hmmmmm....."


Aus der Traube in die Tonne,
Aus der Tonne in das Faß.
Aus dem Faße dann O Wonne,
In die Flasche in das Glas,

Aus dem Glase in die Kehle
In den Magen in den Schlund,
Und als Blut dann in die Seele,
Und als Wort herauf zum Mund.

Aus dem Worte etwas später
Formt sich ein begeistert Lied,
Das auf Wolken in den Äther
Mit des manchen Jubel zieht.

Und im nächsten Frühling wieder,
Fallen dann die Lieder fein,
Nun als Tau auf Reben nieder
Und sie werden wieder Wein.

"Was mochten Sie zu trinken, Herr General?"

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Awakened from a slight but refreshing nap, "Die Ratte" stretched and decided to visit the tavern. As he walked to the door he could see through the tobacco stained windows Helga serving a drink to a stranger by the fire. Taking a deep breath from the cool crisp air, hoping that the breath would staunch the overpowering stench of cheap perfume that he know would invade his nose the moment he opened the door, he quickly walked inside. Reeling from the smell of cheap perfume, he looked about and say all the regulars. Then he noticed the stranger by the fire.

The stranger motioned him over! Wonder what he wants? the Rat thought as he moved closer to the fire. Something strange about his eyes. The one never moved. Extending his hand, the Rat stated with a purpose, "Good day sir, I am Captain Clawson of the Verden Hanoverian's, I am at your service! And who might you be?"

With that, the Rat took a seat beside the stranger and motioned to Helga for a drink.

The last few days had been quite taxing to say the least. The Hanoverian General was certainly looking forward to a few moments of respite in his favorite tavern. Dismounting his horse in the tavern stables, his attention was drawn to an exquisite, chestnut mare that he had never seen stabled here before. He immediately recognized the Hanoverian breed towering above the cart ponies and goats that bore the livery of France. Taking a closer look, he was impressed at the gloss of the animal’s coat. The hooves were immaculately trimmed and shod as well, a sure sign that her rider was most likely a German officer, although the shabraque bore the markings of the British 15th Light Dragoons. No, it couldn’t be, he thought to himself as he turned toward the tavern. He couldn’t be here. With the curiosity that his mother swore would surely one day prove his demise, the Hanoverian Commander pushed open the familiar tavern door and stepped inside.

Quickly scanning the room to be certain that he would not be accosted by one of the all too commonly inebriated, French officers, the Hanoverian Commander strode toward his usual table. He did not make it very far before he immediately sensed the something was amiss, and stopped dead in his tracks.

He recognized Der Wurger and Die Ratte seated at a table by the fire, rather than in their traditional location, but it was the man who was seated with them that made him draw his breath. It is he! He really is here in the tavern today. Changing course, the Hanoverian General strode directly over to the table at which his men were seated, and snapped a letter perfect salute to the British General of Dragoons seated with them, rigidly holding the pose until his salute was returned. “Sire, you do us the greatest of honors with your presence here today”, said the Hanoverian Commander.

Wide eyed at the exchange he had just witnessed, Die Ratte muttered, “Damn!”

“What is the matter, Sir Rat”, asked the Hanoverian Commander of his subordinate, “have you never been in the presence of true royalty before?"

“Oh, no sir, but that is really not the reason for my surprise”, replied Die Ratte. “I was just caught off guard by the fact that you actually knew how to salute!”

The Hanoverian Commander chuckled at the remark, looked around the tavern and then nearly burst out laughing.

“Well, I really didn’t think it was that funny”, said the slightly embarrassed Hanoverian Captain.

“Oh, your reply was humorous enough”, responded the Hanoverian Commander, “but I just realized something funnier still. It seems that the Duke has selected the very table normally occupied by the French Maréchaux.”

“I wonder if they are going to make us move”, replied Die Ratte.

“They are always most welcome to try”, said the Duke of Cumberland.

The men drank and talked. There was an ease at which they conversed. It was not like a man speaking to his better, one whose father was the King of England. No it was more like young sons talking to their attentive father. As the glasses were emptied, there was soon another call for more. Soon, the Duke mentioned that he was famished and could use something to eat, and to dilute the alcohol. Inquiries were made of what was cooking in the kitchen, soon a platter of roasted chickens arrived with a sauce of mushrooms and spatzle and a heaping bowl of carrots and peas. Even from across the room, danty French noses took in the aroma of the meal and their mouths started to water.

As they ate, their discussions continued. At times they were all intent and serious as they told tales of war, mistakes made and opportunities exploited. Occasionally die Ratte or der Wurger would make a remark or statement that would bring about a roar of laughter from the group. The Duke was almost unable to stop laughing at the story of the Prussian horse told by die Ratte and he was delighted and proud to hear General Jones and der Wurger tell of the acquiring of Napoleons horse let alone the hoped for demise of the tyrant.

The Duke then got a very serious look in his eye and said, “You men have been given a duty to carry that is far more challenging than that of any other officers from Hanover, England, France, Prussia, Russia and all the rest. The best of our Army is in the service of the King as the KGL and no finer troops are there.”
He continued,”but, you have been given Landwehr to lead. These are men that have stepped up to join a cause to bring the world piece and put an end to the tyrant. They have put their trust in you to lead them bravely and well. Others may scoff at them, LET Them!” There was a fire in the Dukes eye now.

“The French doubted us at Hondshoote. Over 40,000 French for three days tried to defeat 14,000 Hanoverians. The Duke of York was off besieging the city of Dunkirk. We had to hold till they could understand the danger and extract themselves.”

Taking a brief break for a sip of his drink, he continued, even as others at nearby tables strained to hear the Duke.

“We beat them back the first day and sent many a Frenchman fleeing back to Paris. But it was so difficult a day our Field Marshal Freytag had been wounded and captured, my brother was their, by his side. If it were not for his Aide-de-Camp Scharnhorst, he might have remained a prisoner, but, instead they made their escape. Wallmoden attacked late in the day and retook the position, freeing the Field Marshal, but his wounds were great and he eventually succumbed. Wallmoden issued the order and we fell back from our forward positions to the town of Handschoote. But more French would be arriving.”

Again, the Duke took a brief break to take a sip,”The second day the French tried to advance, but we threw their half hearted attacks back. Jourdans troops had suffered so bad on the first day, they had to be withdrawn across the Yser to reorganize and rest. Vandamme tried to send a probing attack but we slapped him back.”

Clearing his throat, he continued, caught with great emotion.”The third day was terrible. The French prepared to attack again and had received the reinforcements of Vandamme, Leclaire and Hedouville. The ground was broken and it allowed the clouds of French skirmishers to get very close, but our men stood fast. The fighting was vicious and close, often at the range of the bayonet. But our men fought on. On the right, Leclaires men were making head way, but in the center, the enemies resolve was crumbling, Our men advanced! Ammunition nearly spent, We advanced! The French threw the dashed remains of Jourdan’s men and their reserves to try and stem our tide, their commander Houchard even lead a cavalry charge as they tried to stem our advance. It was then that Wallmoden lost his nerve, fearing the attack on our right, he ordered a withdrawl and the French were given the field of battle!”

Snickering could be heard from a table of Frenchmen. The Duke caught the sound and threw a comment their way saying,”O yes, Houchard was rewarded handsomely for his great victory over the men of Hanover, earning an appointment with the Guillotine. Your current crop of leaders might want to tread warily when opposed by the men of Hanover, lest you too earn an appointment. ”

Turning back to the men at his table, he said, “The lesson is my friends, there is nothing in Gods great earth that cannot be done by a nation such as our little one, and our men are the cradle of our greatness.”


Standing up, Ernest Augustus, Duke of Cumberland and Tevoitdale and Earl of Armagh, produced a bottle of Jagermeister from his coat and poured a measure into the glass of his collected officers. The assembled officers all stood and picked up their glass, and the Duke spoke, “To the men of Hanover, may we always lead from the front and vanquish the foe!” “To Hanover!”, came the reply and then they all downed their drinks.

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And so the men of Hanover continued their affair with more drink a passing round of cigars. Songs were sung, more toasts were made but, no one noticed when Der Wurger slipped out the door. When he arrived back, he had something hidden under his coat.

"Mein Herr Duke, Mein Herr Duke, Ich habe something special fur Sie!" The others at the table all quieted down to see what the Wurger was doing now. Die Ratte quipped that he probally had that damn cat, (his term for Josephine) under the coat. Der Wurger was giggling and could barely speak. General Jones looked on, oh he knew that look, what was his new Colonel going to do now to get them all busted down to Privates.

"Ich habe ein Wagon from the Grenadiers a Pied taken. Un in das Wagon was eine crate mit die words "Ours en Peluche" on der side.

"Ours en Peluche?" said the Duke, "Are you sure?"

"Oh yes my, I fear it is true as I saw the crate." remarked General Jones as he dropped his forehead into his right hand, what could der Wurger have coming now.

"Vell," spoke der Wurger "Darin was..... dis!" and he pull from beneath his coat a bearskin shako of the Old Guard. It was impressive, all nice and fluffy with shiney polished plates and badges. Across the room, there was a bit of commotion amongst some French officers, but it seemed that the more senior members had the event in hand, even with lots of whispering occuring and the application of rouge.

"That is very impressive Wurger, but, you told me this story already," remarked the Duke.

"Ja, aber I haf not told you der rest of der story. Der Old Guard ist die beautiful daughters of Napoleon (spit), ever wonder vhy? Vell, let me show Sie." With that, der Wurger made a flurish with his right arm and then stuck it into the shako up to his elbow. With a wink at Helga , he made as if to throw the shako across the room. But he did not let go, instead he held on to the inside and with a sharp "Fwopp!" sound the shako turned inside out and turned into ...........



a


great



big



Teddy Bear

The Wurger then explained that the Old Guard soldiers when marched all day at a fast pace could only truely rest at night when they snuggled up with their fluffy bear pillows that they had carried all day upon their heads.

The Duke roared with laughter as the Tavern all joined in. The French looked sheepishly about, but, what could they do other than fan themselves and order some more whine.

The sun was dropping in the sky and evening would be soon upon them. The Duke rose and bid his adieu to his men, saying that he still needed to stop by the Anglo Allied HQ. The men of Hanover all stood to attention, with a little bit of wavering , and they all saluted the Duke as he left. Before leaving, he stopped at the door and gave a Guinea to the Barkeep for the wonderful accomidations, and he then stepped out the door (humming one of Der Wurgers songs).

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