Der var et yndigt land - A Danish AAR

Chapter I – Right (Højre) Times

A Modest Letter
The year was 1836 and the day was 5th January. “Make space for the King!”. The streets of Copenhagen were filled with people awaiting the King’s arrival. The guards attempted to make as much space as possible, as the King made his way through the streets and towards the Folketing (Parliament). “Get your corpus to the side peasant!” One of the guards yelled when one of the women attempted to get a hold of her child before it got trampled by the crowd. The people where very quiet. Usually they cheer and wave, but the enthusiasm has more or less faded the last few years. The King would have content believing that they just got the wrong leg out of their beds, but he had this itch in his mind that something wasn’t as it should be. As the King took a glance outside the chariot, the people looked like gray silent figures that were just standing there. He got into eye contact with a group of people that were standing close together. A man, a woman and small boy and girl. They looked tired. Tired of everything. If they would have smiled more, and held each other in the hand they would have looked very much like a family, but now, they look like nothing. The King shook his head trying to focus on today’s conference in the Folketing. “Hey you, get off the road! Get off the road I said!”. The Chariot suddenly stops up. The King looks out of the chariot to see what is going on. “I need to talk to the King.” “You need to get off the road otherwise I will have you flogged!”. The King saw one of his guards trying to move a man that looked no more different than skin and bones. “Please sir, I must, I must hand this letter over, please, It is important!”. As the Guards were dragging the old man by force off the street, the King opened the door and stepped out of the chariot. “Let him go.” The King said. The guards released their grip on the man and he tried to approach the King, half way walking the other almost crawling. He held a roll of paper in his hand, his arm stretched out towards the King. The King took the paper in his hand and began reading it.
“To his most honorable majesty, the King of Denmark, from the people of Denmark.
We, the people of Denmark, are most thankful that you pay attention to our plea for help. The people are getting restless. The poverty of many families and the oppression of the elite of society is becoming more than we can cope. We need changes to Denmark that serve the interest of the people. We wish to see new times, where every Danish citizen has the opportunity to better his life only limited by his capabilities and not his social status. The Conservatives are leeching the life out of the people and the country itself. Thousands can barley afford a meal a day. We put our trust and our faith in your majesty’s abilities and humbly with all respect request changes that may improve our future and the future of the nation.”
The rest of the paper contained signatures, pages yet pages of signatures, written by the people supporting the message in this letter. An estimation would be about 50.000-100.000 signatures. The King took a glance at the gray crowd one last time before jumping back into the chariot and towards the Folketing.







One,two,three...

"One, two, three..." Thomas kept counting. The lights were dim in the room and the wind blew ferociously outside the tavern windows. Each time someone opened the door to the tavern a force of cold air made its way to him. Winter was at the door, he could almost smell it. The tavern was more quiet than usual. Everywhere he looked there were people in every corner, whispering. About what he know, nor does he care. His attention was fixed on the few crowns (Danish Coins) he had left. Yet again the door opens and another cold force makes its way through the room and a figure wrapped in warm clothes makes his way towards Thomas. "Hows life treating you Thomas?" He asked. Thomas could't help but to give a sarcastic smile. "As always.". The man fiddled with a paper taking a glance around the tavern quickly before turning his attention back to Thomas. "Things might improve soon enough though.". Thomas grins while he keeps counting over and over again. "If life does not give me shit, then It gives me piss.". The man waved with the piece of paper in Thomas' face. Thomas took it and had a glance at it. The sarcastic smile and grin slowly disapered and his face took a more serious turn. Again the door went up, and two men approached them at their table taking seats. "Have you shown him yet?" They asked. "He's reading it. Not bad right Thomas?". Thomas put the paper on the table and stared into the air, shortly before uttering. "The King will have our heads for this.". The three men smiled and laughed at Thomas' statement. "If he will have our heads for that, then he has over 300.000 heads to harvest, and they'll probably have his before he gets theirs. Anyway I have a few things to do at home. Think about It Thomas." The man smiled and nodded to the other two men before walking out the door. This time, he could -really- feel the cold.





Three,two,one...

He in his office, his head resting on his hands at the table. They kept coming through the door, taking something before leaving, then coming back again. First they took all the most expensive stuff. Pictures, rugs and the pottery and glass. Now they are bringing out the piano. The piano is what Carl held most dear in the ministry. It was customized and made in Milan, and was given as a gift from the King to the Folketing. If Carl could afford it he would probably have bought it, but sooner or later he would barley be able to afford food. He had to fire two servants last week. “How can such a useless thing be so expensive….” One of the movers uttered in English as he and a mate moved the piano through the office. Carl still sat there, now playing with a coin to loosen up the stress. One of the men poked Carl and pointed towards the chair he was sitting in. “We are taking that too.”. The man said in English. Carl stood up and walked towards the window glancing out on Copenhagen. The city was in uproar , smoke was coming from the streets and this time not from the chimneys. A few streets ahead he saw a group of soldiers desperately trying to keep the mob away from the Folketing. The mob begins to throw rocks at the soldiers, and it does not last long before the first shot it fired. A body drops among the crowd and the rest begin to scatter as the soldiers open fire again, a few more bodies drop on the way. He did not feel sorry nor worried about the people down there, Carl feels more sorry and worried about himself. If that mob had gotten through he would have been a dead man. One of the men poked him on the shoulder, and as Carl turned around the man snapped the crown out of his hand, before departing together with his crew. The room was completely empty now. Every step echoed throughout the room.

In the streets the fighting continues. Bang! Another one gone. Kristian had not fired his weapon yet. His squad chased the mob from the Folketing and kept pushing them back. Tears ran down his chins as he saw his own countrymen gunned down by his own comrades. “Where is reason, where is love, where is god?” He asked himself as he kept glancing over the bodies of the citizens as the squad moved forward. “Cease fire!” The commander screamed. “Finally…” Kristian thought to himself. “On my mark!”. Kristian looked back on Commander Bjørn. He glanced over at the crowd of scared men, woman and now and then he even saw children, as the soldiers held their fire, waiting for the final moment. “Aim!”. Kristian broke ranks. “Sir, you cant shoot them! They are Danish Citizens! We are here to protect them, not to kill them!.” Bjørn gave him that stern and uncomfortable stare that officers were renowned for. “ Shut up and get in line!”. “No!” Kristian screamed in defiance. His squad mates looked in confusion. “You will fall in line –now- or I will have you executed for treason!”. He knew exactly what happened to the sort of soldiers that refused to obey orders. He fell back into the line and took aim. His hands were shaking as he prayed to god for guidance. He closes his eyes. “Fire!” The entire line covers in smoke from the rifles, several bodies drop dead and the mob finally scatters. The only ones left is a few children whose parents lay cold on the floor. Kristian is shaking and sweat is falling down his face like a waterfall. He puts down the rifle with the rest of the squad. Shortly he hears the footsteps of Bjørn approach, he always walks slowly, extremely slowly. “Did you fire?” Bjørn asks Kristian and he nods while starring into the road. “Give me your rifle.”. Against his will Kristian hands the rifle over. Bjørn points the rifle directly into Kristian’s face. This is the end. He diden’t fire the gun, and now he was going to pay for it with his life. He closed his eyes and slowly his heartbeat slowed down and his nerves calmed. “At least I did the right thing.”. Kristian thought to himself, least he did the right thing. Et padri, et filia, et spirito sancti, amen.

Chapter II - Revolution and Imperialism

Konge Partiet (The Kings Party)

Thorvald took hasty steps towards the door . His arms where filled with different papers. A few managed to escape his grip as he took his steps. This was it. Finally he might have his chance. The Prime Minister has lost his chance, and now it was his – if only the King will approve. “You’r majesty.”. He said with a modest smile on his face, followed by a slightly clumsy bow, and as he did so a few more papers escaped him. The King merely stared at him and nodded, before turning his gaze back throughout the window. Thorvald stood there merely observing the obvioiusly depressed King. He waited for the King to speak first. Several moments passed as the King kept staring, as If Thorvald wasen’t there at all. “If you have come to discuss more problems, then go. I have no more needs for additional problems.”.
“Your majesty, I have not come with problems, only solutions to your existing problems”. He said enthusiastically as If he had a divine intervention. The King did not look impressed and merely gestured Thorvald to take seat. Thorvald’s smile widened an inch as he took place and tried to make sense of what was where within the papers. He handled the King a map piece. “What’s this?” the King grunted. “This is Madagascar, your majesty, I am sure you remember this which we spoke of a few years back. I think now is the time, sources say that there is a lot of gold to be had..-“. The King interrupted Thorvald during his enthusiasm. “I have already said this, no.”. Thorvald threw down another piece of paper. As the King made eyes, Thorvald threw down another….and another. It was as If he was playing cards with the King, continuously overpowering him. As Thorvald was about to hand him yet another paper, the King stood up and walked to the window with a sigh. “None guarantees their independence your majesty and none of the great powers know its true value.” This is the moment of truth. As the King glanced over the city of Copenhagen he noticed another large crowd of liberalists waving their signs, demanding one thing after the other. Violence hasent broken out in the crowd – yet. “You’ll have your war then”.



Dear Marie…
The voyage from Copenhagen to Africa was terrible. Our supplies were short, and we were forced to tighten our belts several times during our journey. It pained me to watch my men suffer and starve as each day passed. Several kept asking, when we would arrive to Madegascar, or when we would receive more supplies. I did not even know myself when or how long we would have to endure this. A month into the voyage we sailed into a huge storm and the ships were badly damaged and we lost a few frigates and transports. The next day we saw pieces of timber scattered all over the ocean, and now and then we saw bodies float in the water. I would rather fight the Swedes and take back Skåne, Norway and the lands that ment something. But we are so far away from home, and I could smell mutiny on the ship. We had a few sailors flogged and one thrown overboard for suspicion of mutiny. When we reached Cape Town, the Commander informed us, that the British have allowed our fleet and soldiers to dock and resupply. The invasion of Madgascar was delayed a few weeks to let the men rest and resupply thoroughly. As I write this to you, I am sitting at the docks waiting. Tomorrow we are boarding the ships and making our way to our final destination. I hope you are doing well and that your family manages to keep you well fed and safe. If any trouble should arise, remember that my father will do his best to help you, don’t hesitate to ask him for help. I have a bad feeling about the things going on at home.
Your husband-to-be, Jonas.





Revolutionaries or Traitors?
The air was thick with smoke from the pipes. Everyone smoked what could easily be their last smoke before hell would break loose. For years they have been waiting for this moment, the liberal moment. They all knew that they would all be hanged for treason for this. Everywhere in the Kingdom they prepared themselves to stand up to hundreds of years of Absolute Monarchy. If the British, French and the Spanish can have elections even with a King, then so can Denmark. This time they won’t send a letter and ask nicely for change, that has already been done and with little luck. Things are hitting the fan in Denmark and the King and Konge Partiet sends the soldiers and spends the money on a war that won’t guarantee prosperity for Denmark. Now that the Danish Army is gone, their time has come. As the men finished their pipes, they checked their swords and their guns before going out the door.





27th September 1845

As soon as we concluded victory on Madegascar, I heard the news from back home. The cowardly traitors finally came out of their hiding, right when our army was far away. I heard they overran the Castle and Folketing quickly, as well as other cities around the Kingdom. I was so shocked and angry after I heard the news, I wanted to take my rifle and go back and make sure that every single one of those treacherous dogs would be dead before dawn. Our Commanding Officer claims that it is too late, and that we should try to calm down. The King is still alive, but he has merely lost some of his authority. What use do we have of a King without absolute authority? This successful invasion would never have made possible with 175 people in the Folketing arguing left and right. I’d rather have one good leader than 175 bad leaders. If our Officer had the guts, we would go back and march directly into the nest of treason and kill every last one of them. They say that “elections” will start in August. Well try electing cold steel and gunpowder you traitors.

Chapter III - WAR



Danevirke
The day seemed to sunny and bright considering the situation General Haxthausen found himself in. It was a dry day and the last couple of days there had been no rain and the sky was clear. His troops were dug in and the artillery pieces where finally in place. Danevirke is the best bet they would have against the Austrians. Built hundreds of years ago, and throughout the years has been fortified. He had received a message that the Austrians would probably attempt to move into Denmark, through that place and it was fairly obvioius too. He sat in the tent together with the rest of his officers discussing the inevitable upcoming battle, as a messenger on horseback rode into camp to deliver a message from the King. The Officers were arguing right and left how to handle the situation, some suggested immediate surrender, and other suggested taking the fight to the last man. The General took a brief break from the argument to read the letter. The Officer’s arguments stopped little by little, as they noticed the facial expression by their general. The loud arguments turned into silence, and silence turned into whisper. He felt like his heart was stabbed as he read the end of the letter. He clenched his fist around the letter, and spontaneously let the letter fall to the ground. “General, what is it?”. He took rapid steps to the table and began packing the maps and papers. “Sir what are you doing? We aren’t done discussing our strategy?”.
“We aren’t going to need these anyway…”. The Officer looked appalled. “We can’t turn tail and run, the Austrians will be here at any moment!”. In fury he threw the maps at the Officer. “They are already here Frederik! Copenhagen is under siege, Austrian troops have landed and our Navy is doing it’s best against the Austrian Navy. Don’t you get it? They are already here!”.



Absalon (Danish Frigate)
“Aaargh!”. Another cannon ball struck into the broadside of Absalon, and pulled a number of its crew members with it. The crew dash back and forth like headless chickens after receiving perfect two broadsides. The Absalon would’t be able to hold much any longer, and Jonas knew it. His heart was beating more than ever before, and the smoke irritates his lunges and is barley able to breathe. Another broadside hits the Absalon, and Jonas is almost thrown down on the deck by the shake. He quickly picks himself up, and dashes across the ship to help the crew adjust the main sail. As he dashed across the deck, he saw several bodies of his comrades lay silent and ravaged by the cannonfire.
“All hands on deck, prepare to board the ship!”. Jonas finishes adjusting the sail with his crew, and then again dashes across the deck to prepare for the boarding, just as another Austrian cannonball hits the main sail, and the mast breaks. “Watch out!”. Jonas takes a glance behind him, and sees as death in form of a broken mast pursues him. Within a moment, he lies down on the deck the mast crushing his legs. The planks smack down and link the Absalon with the Jaeger, and the Danish marines dash over the plank, drawing their steel and engaging the Austrian crew. Jonas passes out to the sound of gunfire, clashing steel, the smell of gunpowder and smoke, forever



The Austrian Camp
The fields around Copenhagen and Copenhagen itself where ravaged by artillery, steel and bloodshead. Ernst Wittmann dipped the pen again and continued writing. “My lovely wife. We almost have Copenhagen under our control. It won’t be long before this campaign is over. I am sorry If my words are difficult to read, the last two battles have left me with a few wounds, however it is nothing to worry about. The Danes managed to destroy our fleet, but it will only be a minor inconvenience. The Danish Army has already assaulted us twice, and twice have we managed to beat them back. I doubt they will return for us, last battle left them badly wounded, and I have a feeling that it is only a matter of time before we have forced our way into the King’s Castle and signed the peace treaty. I miss you and the children, and I pray to god that he will protect you while I am gone, your’s truly, Ernst.”







Storming Copenhagen
Once again had the Danish Army gathered near Copenhagen, in another desperate attempt to retake the capital. Earlier had they only the support of seven regiments, this time they had reinforcements of two additional regiments. Despite the recent failures, Hans was convinced that this time they would do it. It disgusted him each time he saw the Austrian flags, wave in Copenhagen he couldn’t wait to fire his rifle, wet his bayonet with the blood of the Austria and burn the flag. The wait was pure torture, the longer he waited the more insecure he became. Finally, General Haxthausen gives the artillery order to fire, and initiates a bombardment of the Austrian positions. The 1st 2nd and 3th regiment charges towards the Austrian positions, supported by the 6th cavalry regiment and the artillery. Hans is in the 7th and his hands are getting shaky. Suddenly his confidence is more or less present, and he finally realizes the horror of war, as he sees his comrades fall one by one, as they charge through the field and towards the Austrian positions. “4th 5th and 7th charge!”. The order was given. Hans said a silent prayer, before he stood up and ran towards the Austrian positions. Bullets fly across his ears and the noise of screams, steel, guns and artillery echo through his head. One by one his comrades fall. He fears he will be next. Another one falls, and another. An artillery shell spontaneously explodes only a few meters away from him, and Hans throws himself to the ground. Terrified by the bombardment he cannot do anything but lay still, he keeps trying to fight his fear but cannot, he simply lays there afraid. A Danish Officer pulls him up, and tries to get him moving on. Hans manages to pull himself together and heads on towards the position. Together with the rest of the 7th Regiment, they fire their shots at the Austrians, and charge with their bayonets up hill. Suddenly the noise of steel clashing together takes over the noise of gunfire. Hans is given the Danish Flag, and orders to capture the Austrian flag and replace it with the Danish one. He dashes up the hill, tripping over the steep hill several times before reaching the top. Two Austrian soldiers lunge their bayonets in Hans’ direction. Both miss and with a swift stab, Hans takes out the first Austrian. The second slashes his leg with the bayonet, and Hans lunges out with his bayonet and misses. The Austrian pushes him down and stabs him in the stomach. Hans’ using all his strength to lunges his own bayonet, pierces the Austrians heart, and he drops dead. Suffering from a fatal wound, nonetheless Hans’ drags himself the small way to the Austrian flag, pulls it out and throws it down the hill. Despite the pain and bleeding he manages to get on his feet, and spends the last of his strength to plant the Danish flag, and in one swift motion Hans’ drops to the ground.

Reserved......

Reserved.......

First chapter up and running

Not if I can make an alliance with another great power like England/France or Russia

Chapter 2 up and running

EDIT: Now that I read what you wrote twice, I see that I was just foolish. Sorry Il go back to school and learn to read ^^