VIVE L'EMPEREUR! Glory of the Eagles

[Sapphire]

Neat, I like the pictures. I tried to do my but it seemed to go wrong every time. My AAR shrivelled into small candle beside a sun.

[TreizeV]

"Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake"
-Napoleon, Military Maxims


The Battle of Bastia Mondovi : The battle of Rivers

The Rivers of Italy are a beautiful sight to see, if a visitor was to visit these vital crossroads of trade and commerce, one would be surrounded by lush fields of flowers, crops. The countryside would be tame, checkered by roads and Canals. Sunny Italy was indeed a different place from the harsh and violent battlefields of India and America, having escaped the worst of the century's wars. Yet war was about to come to Savoy.....

Jean Renes swore as more musket balls flew over his head, men were screaming crys of war, and the corporal was quickly overwhelmed as stampeding Frenchman ran past him, into the mist where more fighting took place. The morning fog proved to be a killer, intending to hide the italian muskets within the reeds of the swamp. The French Corporal sprung back up and noticed his situation...he was knee deep in a marsh, the advance scout of a light company. Jean jumped down, soaking his blue uniform, and narrowly dodged an italian musket ball. This affair was proving to be more troublesome than it was worth.

The French Government, hapless under the guidance of it's general population, had voted to declare war on Savoy because of its supposedly royalist populations. The Revolutionaries jump up under the french banner to "defend" france and to spread the revolution, "a crusade for the rights of men" it was declared. As such, there was an uneasy co-existence between the royalist officers and the regular infantry, but that did not deter Kellerman from launching a double pronged assault into Savoy. one Army, under Moreau had invaded Bern with great success while Kellerman threw his army of thirty thousand across the Po, into the heart of Savoy.

The River was called the Tarano, which was a river that ran southwards east of the famous Po. The Piedmontese had taken up defensive positions at the town of Bastia Mondovi, which was a small version of the large city of Mondovi down south. What made this town so impressive was it's position along the river. Although the Tarano ran to the south, a tributary sprang out of the river, running west into France. The town sat south of the tributary, at the crossroads of these three rivers. Beyond the three rivers were the roads to Genoa, where Kellerman planned to flank the savoyards, instead of taking the main roads to the north, he would break the italian line of communications from behind.

The French armies took two days to gather at Carru, Kellerman himself had his engineers bring several dozen pontoons for the inevitable crossing of the Taranno and it's tributary.

The French were now charging through the wet marsh shores of Bastia Mondovi, towards the city. The Savoyards fired large volleys across the river, and Corporal Jean jumped down again as three files of men dissapeared in front of him in the smoke.

"This is too hot work for us!" Jean shouted at the men who crouched down in cover of the reeds with him. The men smiled, nodded grudgingly and then charged again.

"Damn this." Jean spat, then took his musket and charged with the rest of the French columns.

***

It was all so simple, Kellerman thought, too simple but effective. He had sent the two French divisions along with all his artillery at the river banks, where the pontoons lay. Thousands of French infantry assembled. They were a dirty bunch, some without shoes, uniforms, hell some even went into battle without shirts. Although this disgusted the Frenchman, he could not help but feel pride in their exploits. Being a general was a cruel game, playing god with men's lives, that's what it was.

Kellerman laughed, and the staff members watched in curiousity. "Sir?" A short lieutenant Colonel asked his general.

"Nothing Lucien, nothing." Kellerman took this time to view the congregating savoyards in the town.

"Like dangling a worm before a fish." Kellerman smiled. "Send more artillery into the center, i want those bastards to be kept on their toes." A pudgy artillery officer saluted, then ran off to the nearest battery.

The French center was on the bank opposite of Bastia Mondovi. Prior to the battle, he had spread his entire battleline out along the river, to coax the Italians into doing the same, and to have their scouts exaggerate the French size.

"The Piedmontese always have a way of making something big out of nothing." Kellerman grinned as he checked his watch. "Two minutes after ten. Any word from the north?"

"General Dejesus is moving out from Carru in the north sir, he should be across the river soon."

Kellerman smiled, this was part of his ploy, and the morning Mists helped greatly. While the savoyards stayed stretched out across the river, the Frenchman would concentrate two divisions of Regulars and dragoons and send them northward across the Tributary, to the town of Carru which was a few miles to the north. Thick woods on the other bank covered their approach, and the attack into the center was just a diversion.

"Send another regiment into the center, we have to be convincing!" Kellerman snapped, and the aides quickly ran off to the nearest battalion. A shell exploded fifty yards from the General, throwing men and pieces of men into the air. "Where is Dejesus!" The General threw his hat down in Frustration, then looked at his watch again. "Twenty minutes after ten." He snapped it shut, then looked across the bank towards the italian lines, a thick blanket of smoke obstructing his view.

***

General Carlos Diaz was pleased. The latest french attack across the fords of the Tarrano was repulsed bloodily. Italian cannon and muskets were holding firm in the face of the french mob. The italian scoffed at the french. "What do those peasants know about warfare?" The Savoyard regulars advanced in perfect formations, men standing shoulder to shoulder, while the sun shone through the mist, revealling brilliant gold epaulettes on their shoulders.

"Not too much sir." A french officer replied.

"Do you think they will withdraw?" Carlos asked. more musket balls flew by, forcing the men to take cover towards the rear.

"They don't have a chance, this their punishment for ignoring our god given rights." The Frenchman eyes lit up in anger.

"May god have mercy on their souls then." Diaz smiled. The latest French assault was brutally beaten back, a trail of men and blue uniforms showing the route the Frenchmen took back to the river.
"God i want to get this over with, this uniform itches." Carlos swore, war was all glorious and such, but fighting peasants armed with antique muskets wasn't his idea of glory. He always imagined himself leading men across wide plains, in perfect formation, the sun shining on his sword and armour as he led them forward on his charger.

"Sir....the next attack is coming."

Carlos shook his head, then frowned at the approaching french.
"Suicidal fools eh Phillippeaux?" The French Colonel sneezed, then excused himself. "We will put them out of their misery soon enough." Phillipaux was a royalist soldier who detested the revolution, resenting its reforms. Nothing, he believed, justififed abolishing the god given privileges. Like thousands of others, he fled France to other countries, hoping to stir up war with France. He had been successful in Savoy, now if only austria would join....

"Bah, too long! Tell Lorrani to concentrate his division in the center, lets push them back across the river!"

"Very good sir." Colonel Phillipeaux smiled. He had never felt such elation, such joy. It was a new found experience he never had from his pampered youth, on the vast estates of Bordeax. It was a feeling that made him feel alive.

It was revenge.

***

"One Minute after eleven." Kellerman checked again. "Now it begins."

The pontoons laid across the Tarrano at Carru were set hours before the French divisions got there, and it only took another thirty minutes to get the men over. Thousands of men formed into compact columns, human battering rams tipped with steel, and they marched south to flank the Piedmontese, all this while Diaz continued to march men towards the shallows at Bastia Mondovi.

Jean Renes miraculously survived the failed assaults, and now he saw the hopelessness of it all. The bodies of his friends now lay along the banks while the next human wave prepared to attack. It was a credit to the revolution's patriotic fervor that they even marched at all, and Jean, bayonet fixed, prepared to march again.

The savoyards were now twenty yards from the ford and marching, their perfect lines glistening in the sun. Jean gritted his teeth and shouted along with a thousand other frenchmen. "VIVE LA FRANCE!" The men drew their bayonets, then ran. The French column at first stumbled but it got over the fords easy enough, as the water was only ankle deep.

The savoyards paused, surprised by the sudden impetus in the French Charge. They paused quickly, aimed their muskets to the shouts of their officers, then they-

"TIREZ!" The French column bursted into smoke, savoyards screaming as they fell to the ground. A man was shot in the face, and he fell down, screaming, clutching his mask of blood. Others were shot in the thighs, chests and groins, and they all went down just the same. "FIRE!" The italian officer shouted, and the savoyards let loose a ragged volley.

The men around Jean were hit, but the men behind simply jumped over their bodies. Jean's bayonet was down and he cheered deliriously as the French column emerged from the smoke, the body of men several hundred wide. "VIVE LA FRANCE!" They shouted again, and the second savoyard line trembled, some dropped their muskets and ran, while the others fired uesless volleys at 100 yards.

"Skewer the bastards!" A colonel yelled and the full weight of the column crashed into the line. Savoyards screamed as bayonets went into their bodies. Jean himself managed to slit the throat of a Savoy Lieutenant, blood gushing onto his muddy uniform. Others were beaten, clubbed with muskets, or just stabbed. They all died just the same. The savoyard artillery tried to pound the attacks, but new smoke appeared from the north, the italian right.

More French formations approached, some in line, some in column. The lines watched the flanks while Dejesus sent his best cavalry into the flank of the savoy lines.

The Italians broke under the combined weight of the infantry and cavalry, and many ran for their lives. They didn't get far, and French cavalry sabres rose and fell many times during that day.

Diaz was shocked, and quickly ran with his colour party...Colonel Phillippeaux swore, then mounted his horse and galloped with the retreating italians.

Savoy had gambled, and it had lost.

***

Aftermath

Jean wandered around the campfires...the men were drinking heavily after looting the dead. Musicians played accordians while many others drank wine and ate their german sausages heartily. It was a fine moment, and Jean was going to make the most of it while it lasted.

A lieutenant walked up to Jean. "The Colonel wishes to see you Corporal."

Jean nodded, then saluted politely. "Yes sir." Then walked straight towards the Colonel's tent.

The French Corporal went in to see various trophies littered around the tent. captured italian standards which the battalion took in its final assault. The Colonel, a fat pudgy man, held his arms out in welcome. "Corporal Renes! please! Sit!" The man was obviously happy with his presence, and slowly jean settled comfortably on a stool.

"I hear that you led five of our assaults today!" The Colonel smiled with glee.

"Just three sir." Jean was honest about it, not use having everyone embarass him by making him look like a bloody hero.

"In any case Corporal i'll keep it brief. We lost five captains and six lieutenants in that attack, and i'll need to replenish our numbers. Since we don't have ensigns due to the royalists fleeing, there are vacancies for officers.

Jean was shocked beyond belief. "How about the sargeants sir?"

"I can't take all of them away! They are more valuable as drillmasters" The pudgy man grinned, then ran his hands along his mustache. "besides, your performance today has made you more than deserving of the vacancy. Congradulations. Lieutenant" The man shooked Jean's hand, and he saluted with a smile of his face, like a littel child who received a christmas present.

Lieutenant Renes ran out the tent, filled with joy. He was only twenty, and now he was a lieutenant! He calmed himself down, then packed his tent. The war in savoy was almost over, and now he would go back home, with more stories to tell for his brother and family.

He prayed to god, hoping this moment would last forever.

To Come: The war of the first coalition

[kurtbrian]

your writing is reallly good!

[Machiavellian]

Enjoyable as ever. Still trying to get a feel for the various cast of characters in this new tale.

[TreizeV]

Machiavellian Thanks alot, and i hope that its not too many characters for you the napoleonic era is a huge era and i can't justify doing it with so few, but for now concentrate on three, napoleon and the two Renes.

also, Thank you everyone! for reading!

War of the First Coalition



Foreward

The war against savoy ended in a total French victory. Savoy was reduced to little more than a strip of land while the republic of France annexed sardinia, Bern and Savoie, spreading the revolution onward!

However the royalists haven't been sitting by idley, less than a year after the victory over savoy. Austria, the Palatinat, Tuscany and the papal states (!) pledged an alliance together to crush the revolution and preserve the old order. And thus the french march again.

War of the first coalition

***

France was short of armies, that was a fact. Despite Kellerman and Moreau's best efforts, the French army was still short of men. To compensate for this loss, conscription was introduced. This would enable the French to overwhelm the small proffessional armies of their enemies, namely the austrians.

letters were mass printed in paris and sent in all directions, while a new army was being gathered up for a new offensive.

***

Andre had mixed as he walked towards the city, the letter having recently arrived at his farm from the provisional government of Toulon. Men were needed to fill the ranks of the army. France itself was totally unprepared for war. It lacked officers, many of whom were royalists, who fled to neighbouring kingdoms urging them to declare war on France. The army too, was short on everything possible, supplies, ammunition, clothing. Some men went into battle with no boots nor shirts. Military discipline collapsed. Andre himself heard the stories. Regiments would vote before a battle deciding whether to fight or not, since the revolution had already set them "free", they reasoned.

Andre himself saw a regiment hang their own commander when he tried to discipline them, declaring that he was a despot, an enemy of liberty and equality. Through the chaos though, Renes could see his dreams come true, how he would escape his world of poverty, to enter a world of colour, pageantry and comradeship. He realized too the risks, which led many to unmarked graves scatter around Europe.

Andre's parents though, could do nothing to stop the draft. if they refused, the revolutionaries would accuse them of being traitors, and the Renes didn't need any more unwanted visitors at their door. Andre however, was excited that his dreams of being able to defend france would come true.

"I promise i will defend our homeland." Andre held the hands of his weeping mother, before running off to his regiment. A long trail of local men already marching towards their destination.

"What will your brother think?" The mother asked, stopping Andre in his tracks. Private Renes turned around and smiled. "He won't do a thing, he doesn't control my life. Au revoir! I will write!" He slung his musket onto his back, then ran to join his company.

"Come back to us." His mother whispered as she watched her second son march off to war. More men marched through in their formations, past the old farm. Their young faces were uneasy; a prelude to the trials that lay ahead...

***

"Never since, has any battlefield given me the same impression of so many corpses as did the sight of the masses of dead swiss."
-Napoleon

The Tuileries Massacre : August 1792

The war was going badly for France, recently an austrian army had utterly crushed a French force in Mainz, leaving thousands dead and thousands more prisoners. Entire regiments surrendered, or crying "Treason" Murdered their commanders. By August the enemy were advancing upon Paris. Panic swept the capital.

The defeats, people said, were because the king leaked army plans to the enemy. Fanatics filled the newspapers, crying "La Patrie en danger!" (The homeland is in danger), and demanded that all traitors be punished. The people took this translation literally - The royal family, nobles, priests, indeed anyone suspected of disloyalty must be arrested and executed.

Volunteers poured in from all over the countryside, flocking to Paris. As they marched, the revolutionaries sang a song that would become famous during the course of the war. known as the "marseillaise."

Come, children of your country, come,
New glory dawns upon the world,
Our tyrants rushing to their doom,
Their bloody banners have unfurled;
Already on our plains we hear
The murmurs of a savage horde;
They threaten with the murderous sword
Your comrades and your children dear.
Then up, and form your ranks, the hireling foe
withstand;
March on, March on.
His craven blood must fertilize the land.

Alarm clocks rang throughout paris on the morning of the 10th. A large mob began gathering in the city square. Led by the men of Marseilles this mob of twenty thousand consisted of shopkeepers, women, children, the unemployed and soldiers flowed through the streets. They were armed with anything sharp they could fine, knives, spears, pitchforks, muskets, clubs. The mob gathered and headed towards their destination.... the Tuileries, to overthrow king Louis XVI. Unknown to them, the king had already fled to safety hours ago.

***

Captain Bonaparte was enjoying himself, his unit having recently returned to Paris. He had managed to pull himself a Furlough, and now went to paris to get his passport to return back to Corsica, where a Hero's welcome would surely await him.

Sitting in the Cafe, Napoleon took one sip of coffee, then looked at his watch. Twenty after nine, just a few more hours before his coach would arrive.

Napoleon tapped the table impatiently, but was content to settle out with a game of cards with his fellow officers. It was proving to be a dull day indeed.....

***

The Tuileries were defended by the Swiss Guards, a one thousand man unit which was hired to serve the king. They were professional soldiers, but their ammunition was dangerously low.

Two men stood guard as sentries outside the gate. One yawned as the rigorous morning shift was often the most boring one. God! What he would do for some wine! or perhaps a loaf of bread. The Guardsman took the time to stretch himself, while his other partner just stood there, staring straight..... Then his eyes opened wide in shock.

in front of him was an unreal sight. Hundreds... no..thousands of men and women! Howling cries of death, like rabid dogs foaming at the mouth.

The first guard shivered, then ran back to the gate, the other was unfortunate and tripped, only to be overrun by the mob. His body dissapearing within the sea of spears and pikes.

"We're under attack! We're under attack!" The swiss dropped his musket, then ran for cover, hands behind his head, as the crowd started throwing stones.

"Form up! Form up!" A Colonel snapped the men together, and managed to get a hundred men to line up in front of the gate. The mob proceeded closer, howling like banshees from the depths of hell.

"Present!" The colonel lifted his sword. A hundred muskets came up and leaned on a hundred shoulders. What a battle this was! The colonel thought. On one side there were these white guards, orderly, clean and dressed, while the mob was dirty, brutal and barbaric, they were two worlds apart. The Colonel Flinched as more stones and this time muskets fired into his men, knocking several down.

"FIRE!" The men panicked, and fired scattered volleys before running to the Palace. Some of the mob fell down from the volley, and that did nothing to calm their anger. Crying "Treason!" The mob ran towards the guards. Those who stood their ground were cut down, while the others ran towards the barricade at the entrance.

Huge sailors, taking part in the riot, used large pieces of timber as clubs. A poor swiss had his skull crushed as two sailors held him down, while a third pummeled him with the large piece of wood. Women fought as well, slitting the throats of the guards who failed to get away. Others were decapitated, while some were shot. Screams filled the courtyard.

The remaining defenders were trapped on the walls, which were being climbed by angry rioters. The swiss nervously shot at them, then ran for their lives. Some fell off the walls, into the sea of rioters below.

It didn't take the mob too long to enter the palace. Only two hundred swiss guarded the large doors behind their barricades of furniture. The swiss fired, only to have twice as many muskets fire at them. The rioters charged the swiss, who had their backs to the wall. Their colonel, already shot dead in the mouth was lying on the steps of the palace.

While more fighting took place in the courtyard, rioters broke into the palace and looted it. Furniture worth more than a worker earned in a lifetime was smashed in a fraction of a second. Government documents were burnt, others tossed into the air. Sweaty people cheered the giant "Snowflakes" which came fluttering to the ground.

The tuileries were taken, yet the mob was far from finished......

***

Napoleon walked down the street an hour later, wondering where his carriage went. The young Captain strolled through the empty streets, and thought about how eerily empty this part of the town was.

Then he saw it....

Over in the distance was a pillar of smoke. The shouts of men, the screams, the cries. Napoleon himself saw two men run towards the direction of the ruckus, smiling and carrying torches with them.

The Captain followed them curiously, negotiating the narrow streets and mazes to find himself at the gates of the Tuileries, or what was left of it.

Suddenly a map grabbed him on the shoulder.

Napoleon turned around to see a large mob facing him, with muskets, pitchforks and clubs. Yet what made napoleon flinch was the grim "trophy" that the crowd had taken with it. The Swiss Colonel's head was stuck on a pike, and lifted above the crowd. The crowd, thinking that Napoleon looked far too much like a gentlemen, demanded that he shout "long live the nation!"

Without hesitation he did so at once, at the top of his voice.

Napoleon slowly entered the courtyard, and it smelt of death. It was like entering a butcher shop. The grass was red with blood, as was the air, which stank to high heaven. Bodies, many stripped naked, lay in piles, the white fine uniforms of the swiss guards were burnt while others just wore them. Napoleon saw a ten year old boy wear the uniform of a swiss corporal, while another stole a captain's sword and continually skewered the dead man's body with it. Children joined in the barbarism, kicking heads in the courtyard as if they were soccer balls.

Here and there, killers went to work, hacking the wounded to pieces. Napoleon was disgusted, but he had to do something.

He managed to at least save one life, catching a Marseillaiss man as he was about to blow the brains out of a wounded swiss.

Napoleon rushed to him then said. "Are you a man of the south?"

The man nodded. "So am I!" Napoleon declared "Let us save this wretch!"

The confused Marseillais dropped his musket, and without saying a word, fled.

The massacre lasted for a few hours, and Napoleon vomited as he discovered more bodies inside the palace. Men and women passed him as he lay on the floor by the palace entrance, sickened by the events he had seen. As a trained soldier he was expected to shed blood in the line of duty, but this was too much!

More importantly, it destroyed his idealism. Napoleon remembered his dream, where a government would rule in the interests of the people. How could such a government be ruled by the people who did something as barbaric as this. What about the ideals of the revolution? Where were the people's humanity and respect for the law?

The twenty two year old captain regained his posture, and leaned against the stone wall. He saw that the swiss he had just saved was dead, flies already settling inside his bloodied mouth.

Napoleon put his hands on his face....and wept.....

[Machiavellian]

Crushing the idealism of young Napoleon can certainly not be good for the Republic or the rest of the world.

[LordSutty]

another top AAR. Well wrote and a pleasure to read

[TreizeV]

"Let the blood of traitors flow! That is the only way to save the country!"
-Jean Paul Marat

The September Massacres

Crowds filled the street, branishing more torches and knives as they sang the Marseillaise. An effigy of the doomed Louis XVI was hung in the town square, where children with pitchforks stabbed it continually, while others danced as it lit on fire. Tricolor flags were everywhere, a symbol of France reborn, a france ruled by the will of the people, ruled by democracy!

Napoleon shook his head as he watched from his hotel room. His views of the people were justified by the events of the following weeks after the Tuileries, and Captain bonaparte continued to shiver as he recalled the blood, the piles of naked bodies, and the severed head of the swiss colonel, the flies in his mouth.... the expression on his face.......

A gust of wind blew into the Inn, extinguishing the weak flame that he had prepared over his books. In his spare time, Napoleon would read about the ancient conquerers, Fredrick the Great, Alexander, Caesar, probing each man's life as if he would gain something from it.

"At least you had an empire that didn't go mad." Napoleon joked, as he closed the book on Alexander the Great, one of his idols.

The shouting died down as the crowd hurried inside the courtroom to witness the "trial". Napoleon was disgusted at how justice and truth suffered through the perversions of the revolutionaries. He recalled the days after the Tuilleries massacre, where a man announced in the city square that the monarchy was abolished, and a republic declared. It was a hot sunny day and Napoleon vividly remembered it as he watched through the crowds.

Hundreds, including mothers and their children, were jailed as suspected traitors. But the jails weren't enough unfortunately. A few days later, rumours began to fly around Paris, about how a secret royalist army was planning on releasing the prisoners and letting them loose on the country. Despite the impossibility of this claim, napoleon was horrified to find that it was taken seriously and literally.

From September 2-7, gangs of killers took over the city prisons. Napoleon himself attended one "trial" which lasted only five minutes. The defendent, a poor little boy who was only five, was sentenced to death for no other reason save he was a noble. The young lad put up a good stand though, as napoleon saw him standing firm, denying the charges in the face of a glaring and spiteful crowd. The boy was simply carried off out back, despite his protests, and he was never seen again.

Nor would Napoleon have wanted to see. At the end of the first day, he took a tour of the back of the prisons in his civilian clothes, and he saw it.

Defenseless prisoners were dragged out into the courtyard, where grinning brawny men waited with butcher's aprons and axes. Napoleon cringed as he saw one huge monster of a man split a man's skull in half with an axe. Streams of blood pouring all over as a major vessel was burst. The killers then proceeded to the next prisoner, who cried as they watched what awaited them. The killers, napoleon noted, took their work seriously, pausing only to drink and eat. Napoleon himself saw a man decapitate a handsome middle aged noble. As the body fell down, the executioner took a break, drinking a mixture of brandy and gunpowder which they clamed would aggravate their fury.
A man even dipped his croissant in his victim's blood, eating heartily. Napoleon too, observed that women would dance and sing to encourage them, some with human ears pinned to their dresses, the court yard litterally bathed in blooded.

But that was not the problem for napoleon now. The sun was going down and it was the ninth of september. He snapped his watch shut and packed his bags. He was leaving. The Captain managed to get a lengthy furlough, and instead of staying inside the paris madhouse, he would go back to corsica, until things settled down.

However...Napoleon had one more thing to do before he left. Elisa.

His sister unfortunately, was attending a girls' school near paris when it was closed down by the revolutionaries. So it was big brother's job to make sure she had a safe trip.

Napoleon scrambled down the stairs, where a coach awaited him.

"Here monsieur," Napoleon handed out three francs to the hotel owner. The man nodded "Merci Captaine, may your journey be a safe one."

Napoleon nodded, then scrambled out the door to the coach.

***

"Where are we going brother?" Fifteen year old Elisa was scared, more scared than she had ever been. A noble friend of hers was just recently executed, while most of the girls in her school were put into the prisons. It was to Elisa's fortune that she was not recognized as a noble despite her presence there. Napoleon managed to find her as more revolutionaries patrolled the streets in search of "Traitors"

"The country has gone to the dogs." Napoleon commented as he watched a contingent of troops march towards a burning storehouse. A mob had recently looted it, claiming the owner was a royalist and a "traitor to liberty".

"Do you think we will make it?" Worry pinched the face of the young girl, but Napoleon simply ptu his hand on her head and comforted her. "We will sister, we will."

Crowds were everywhere and the carriage narrowly avoided some. Everywhere effigys were burning, houses were looting and people were arrested. Sunset was coming, and Napoleon prayed for night, for it would make their escape even more easier.

A drunken Vendee peasant climbed onto the coach, shouting "traitors! Death to the traitors!" Napoleon simply punched the man in the face, and he fell into a pile of trash as the coach increased its speed towards the gate.

"We're gonna make it!" Napoleon repeated again, but then the coach stopped.

Damnit, Napoleon thought. So close. So Close! A crowd gathered at the entrance of the city. Elisa, with her nice manners and feathered hat, attracted too much attention. Napoleon cursed himself for not remembering to change elisa into normal clothes. Having the manners or clothes of a noble was like the kiss of death. Men and women could be convicted to death from a simply dress shirt, or dress, since fine clothes were a sign of the nobility.

"Aristocrats! Death to the Aristocrats!" The crowd was repeating this phrase, while men ran alongside the carriage, shaking it left to right. Elisa screamed.

The crowd was now branishing knives and torches, and Napoleon quickly remembered the fate of those who fell into the mobs hands. As the mob rocked the coach, they began singing the "Marseillaise." GOD how he hated that song!

The situation almost got dangerous but Napoleon calmly opened the coach door, the crowd went silent.

"We are no more aristocrats than you!" He shouted back, then snatched Elisa's feathered hat, and sent it flying.

The crowd cheered, then went to their next target, which was the burning home of a royalist.

Napoleon was amazed at his luck, but he decided to gloat about it later, for he was running out of time.

"Get us out of here!" He yelled at the coachman, who was still gathering himself from the mob.

The coach whipped out of the city, and into the calm cold countryside.....They were safe.....

And so napoleon began his journey back to his homeland.

***

Andre was surprised at all the attention they were getting. As one of the first battalions formed in this "Army of italy", they received a farewell parting from the towns people in toulon. Strands of colourful tape filled the air, while the men marched proudly, playing the "marseillaise". Andre kept his chest up in pride, pride that he was finally making a difference, pride in his escape from his brother and parents. This was his chance to make it big!

Of course, none of the men had their uniforms, France was still so unprepared that the government didn't even issue a standard uniform yet. Men wore the old blue of the royalist infantry while Andre held an ancient musket from one of the armouries. Yet the men made it up in eagerness.

The parade lasted two hours before the men settled in camp. Tents were pitched while orders were issued. A new man, Davout, had taken command of the army and he was instituting quick reforms to get it up to speed.

Andre was cooking his rations over the campfire, a mixture of wine and sausage, when another fellow came to sit down.

"Bonjour mon ami!" The man smiled. "Pierre Delacroix at your service! And you are?"

"Andre." The Private looked up. "Andre Renes from Toulon."

The man sat down, lighting a cigar. He offered one to Andre, but he politely refused.

"Ah what a coincidence! I am from Marseilles! A beautiful place, good food, good women as well." The man laughed again, but then he stopped for a moment, and he began asking andre questions. About his home, his family, how long he's been here. Andre had no clue why he was asking so much, but perhaps it was to get rid of the general nervousness that was infecting the army. Everyone knew, that they were not professional soldiers. They were fishermen, farmers, blacksmiths, lawyers, shopkeepers, men from all walks of life who came to fight for their country.

"You were a farmer eh?" The man talked, keeping his cigar in his mouth. "I myself was a banker, father's firm was destroyed by the revolution, god knows why i'm here." Andre looked on, while he watched Delacroix puff rings of smoke out of his mouth. The men talked until the sun went down, then he stood up.

"I suppose it is time for me to go! We're marching in the morning, might as well get some rest!"

"Marching?" Andre said curiously. "Where?"

"To Flanders my friend, to clear out those damned Kaiserlicks (austrians in french army slang ) We'll give them a trouncing!" Delacroix shook his fist once, then laughed again.

"You are number 2 company? That is good! I am in number 4, perhaps we shall meet on the battlefield." Delacroix grinned.

"If we do, you cook next time." Andre smiled, then tossed Delacroix's rations out of his pot, and onto his plate.

"You would be a brave man to trust my cooking!" Delaxcroix shouted as he walked. "Au revoir!" Delacroix dissapeared into the groups of men around andre, and once again he was alone.

A fierce wind blew across the camp, the flames of the campfire flickering wildly until Andre poured the bucket of sand on it. A storm was coming, and andre quickly disappeared back into his tent.

They were marching tomorrow though, and Andre would fight his first battle.

[Amric]

Nappy saying he is no more of an aristocrat than them? Wow! What a sea change he will be making, eh?

[jwolf]

The executioners in Paris were drinking a mixture of brandy and gunpowder? See, it's just as I said before -- they're all a bunch of drug-crazed wild men!

Eagerly awaiting the next battle.

[TreizeV]

Lol.....alright alright

"How many things apparently impossible have nevertheless been performed by resolute men who had no alternative but death."
-Napoleon's Military Maxims

The Battle of NeufChateau (Brabrant)

It was hell....pure and simple. Men were crying for help while others, numb with shell shock and the mud, just sat there and cried while the air was filled with cacophony of cheers, screams and shrieks, all drowned out by the murderous thunder of the guns from both sides. The Austrians stood in perfect lines, their uniforms polished, bayonets gleaming in the air. The French were dirty, untrained and quickly fell back as another hail of musketry tore through their ranks, leaving a trail of dead and wounded in their wake. Rivers of blood quickly flowed into little streams, which were littered in dead bodies.

The Battle field was a place known as NeufChateau, inside Belgium. The Austrians positioned themselves between a farm and a cemetary, both acted as fortified positions. The estate was called Longliers and the graveyard Cite de la justice, and these two sites guarded the austrian flanks. In the center meanwhile, the Austrians set up headquarters in a chapel known as Chapelle des otages. The Chapel of Hostages.

The region NeufChateau had known peace once, throughout the year traders from Paris and the Netherlands would pass this small town and stop by for some of the finest wine orchards west of the Rhine. Today, the orchards were burning, full of charred bodies. Bottles of wine lay smashed in the cellars while the farm burned, an aftermath of the huge artillery duel taking place in the center.

***

Andre Rene marched to this scene, polished buttons and boots, blue uniform shining brightly in the morning sun's light, and just stood there. This was his first time in battle, and already it had an impact on him. Not so much as the sight, but the sound. The thunder! Andre shook with the earth as enemy cannonballs found their targets within the french lines. The recruits were gittering, only to have their sargeants shun them.

"Be still Andre!" Delacroix had his eyes to the front of the column, his face emotionless, but he still managed to whisper this to the private.

It took Rene anther minute to gather himself up, then he marched again, musket in hand with his company towards to positions on the line.

Ignore it all. Ignore it all and you will do fine. Andre kept repeating it in his head. If you don't think the cannons will hit you, they won't and you won't panic! He dare not show his fear. Not much of the battlefield per say, but he was afraid that he would lose it out there. The company passed a group of stragglers who ran back after the first assault. Men whose uniforms were once brightly coloured blue and shiny like his, were now covered in mud and blood, while others came back with less limbs. All were screaming in agony.

Andre turned his head away quickly, shutting out the screams as he took one last gulp. His company were now assembled on the french line........

***

"Good Afternoon Gentlemen!" A tall horseman with gold lace and a General's uniform waved at General MacDonald. The General was leaning over a makeshift table, inspecting the maps of the battle. A group of Aides in similarly clean uniforms and cocked hats surrounded the man.

"General Davout Sir! I trust your journey here was safe." Macdonald saluted, for it was Davout who was entrusted with the campaign to rid belgium of the Austrians.

Davout dismounted from his horse, then quickly rushed towards the table where the staff were waiting.

"It appears the Kaisers have begun their attack already. Situation Macdonald." Davout took off his cocked hat, as the air was getting hotter in the afternoon sun.

Macdonald ran his finger along the map. "Two weeks ago, we defeated the Austrians in Flandern, their army withdrew south along this one road into the Palatinat, We believed that they were abandoning the Austrian netherlands, retreating through the Palatinat"

"So they were preparing for a counter offensive then." Davout deduced. General Macdonal Grudgingly nodded, since he hated being surprised by the enemy, especially an enemy which was slower.

General Davout leaned over the map and then asked inquisitively. "How many of the enemy are there?"

"Forty five thousand sir." Another General took this moment to speak, as he was eager to play a part in the conversation.

"Macdonald, I presume you had twenty five thousand troops to face this many enemy?" General Davout asked. Macdonald nodded, but before he could respond, davout continued.

"I brought along fifteen thousand new troops, perhaps we can use that to tip the scales in our favour." Davout this time slammed a finger down on the map. The table shook and the aides jumped to attention, as if they were awoken from a deep sleep.

"We must act now, before the enemy can bring his numbers against us. Pierre?" An old one eyed general stepped out of the group, his imposing figure and scar was like a medal to him, showing that he had been on many of a battlefield, and now, this veteran was commanded by a man who was younger than he, and probably spent less time on the battlefield.

"Yes sir?" The Old General replied unethusiastically.

"What do you say to an assault on the Austrian flanks? To capture the Estate of Longliers and the Graveyard Cite De La justice?" Davout smirked.

The Old General grinned, he saw straight through Davouts intentions. "It'll be just grand sir, i think it should do the trick."

"Who is commanding the left wing?" Davout snapped, and Macdonald beated out an answer quickly and efficiently. "General Desalle sir."

"Have him bombard the chateau with everything he's got, then have him assault it. Macdonald!" He raised his voice on the last word, Macdonal stood to attention. "You will come with me, we got plans to work out in the center."

"Yes sir!"

"General Macdonal will brief all of you once i finish explaining to him! Till then i wish you Gentlemen the joys of the afternoon!" The aides snapped to attention then went to their duties.

Then Davout explained.........

***

The French Attack!


The battle of NeufChateau

"Shun you rogues!" Colonel Ares yelled out as the entire battalion formed into column. The officers helped the privates keep the dressing while the sargeants dealt discipline out. Some however, couldn't hear any of the sargeants' cries over the pounding of the austrian shells, which landed very close to the column. Several men stared nervously at the craters left by these shells a mere twenty yards away, yet they pulled themselves together, took a deep breath and stared straight in front of the column, into the Graveyard Cite De La Justice.

The graveyard was a terrible place to fight, as soldiers were superstitious people. Yet that didn't prevent their officers from forcing the austrians to take up positions there. It was a horrid place. French shells shot up spouts of earth in the cemetary, unearthing corpses which had long been dead. The Austrians were shocked to find the body of an austrian soldier splattered on a tombstone, a cannonball having shot through him. The smell of flesh and smoke was evident all over the place.

"Listen up!" The Colonel raised his sword into the air as he trotted to the front of the column. "We are going to go over there and give them hell!" He then pointed his heavy cavalry sword towards the burning chateau, which suffered terribly from French bombardment. "What are you going to do?!" He yelled again

"FIGHT!" The french column raised their arms in a cheer, and Andre was in the front of the column. All his nervousness was gone as he was carried away by the voices of a thousand confident men. Perhaps they could survive after all.

"Lets go!" The Colonel waved his sword forward and the column gave one last cheer before attacking.

By now the artillery had stopped the French column increased its pacing as they got closer to the enemy. Thousands of feet hit the soil at once to produce a pounding effect which shook the ground.

Andre was overjoyed! He had conquered his fear at last! And now the french assaulted the cemetery.......................

Up Next:
The Conclusion of NeufChateau
Napoleon's corsican Furlough

[ladyfabia]

Wow, what a detail map!

[Machiavellian]

Austrians or French, Austrians or French.

Wow, you certainly make it hard to choose a 'team' to root for.

[TreizeV]

Ladyfabia - Why thanks this is the first map battle ive done so bear with me.

Machiavellian - Haha, well seeing as i haven't done the battle from the austrian perspective yet i don't see why you would have a reason to root for them

Anyways thanks for reading! I'll try to get the second update done by tmr

[LordSutty]

Im not much of a french supporter.

So go the english!!!

upps there not in this one

Go the Austrians!!!

[TreizeV]

"If your bayonet breaks, strike with the stock. If the stock gives way, hit him with your fists. If your fists are hurt, bite him with your teeth"
- General Mikhail I. Dragomirov
(Thanks Machiavellian!)

"A LA BAYONETTE!! (let them have the bayonet)" Colonel Julian yelled at the top of his lungs as the column was only a hundred yards from the church and graveyard.


The men gave out one loud "Vive La France!" and broke formation, running towards the enemy, screaming at the top of their lungs. The Austrians in their white uniforms calmly levelled their muskets in a line in front of the cemetary. Sweat was dripping down their necks as they had been standing in their fortified position for a good portion of the afternoon, and the sun beat down on them mercilessly. The French artillery at this point paused to avoid hitting their own infantry, which served the Enemy well. The Austrians presented, aimed, and fired, engulfing the front ranks of the French column in smoke. A new sound was heard under the war crys. Screams of pain and agony as bullets found their mark.

The French fell by the dozens, and Andre himself had two musket balls whoosh past his head, however he didn't even notice it as he continued running. Two men beside him fell to the ground, one with a bullet in his groin. The man tripped and fell, to be run over by his cheering comrades in the column. A cannonball struck the left flank of the French attack, throwing half a dozen men into the air like rag dolls. Yet the French kept going, as the armies of revolutionary france fought with an unknown fury since the crusades. It was a crusade for the rights of men, and every man in the army longed for a chance to get back at the powdered aristocrats who lived a soft life with their privileges in the ancien regime. The clean bright and spotless austrian troops seemed to represent all that to them, and it was their hatred that urged them on.

Andre was the first to hit the austrian line as the white uniformed men struggled to lower their bayonets and charge. It was too late.

The French mob slammed into the Austrian line, like a battering ram of flesh and steel. Dozens fell under french blades, and Andre managed to bayonet a tall moustached austrian in the chest. Andre was shocked for a moment when the man's major arteries were burst, and he gave out one last cough of blood before dying, drenching his uniform in red. Andre stood there, wondering about what he had done, for it was his first kill. It dawned to him that all soldiers were alike. The man he killed could have been a father... a son....a husband......

"Come on Andre! Vite Vite! Depeche-toi!" Delacroix yelled as more french soldiers simply ran past the bewildered private.

"Alright alright!" He took one last glimpse at the fallen austrian, and continued into the graveyard.

The french ran wildly into the main ground of the cemetary, the men simply jumped over the small fence and hedges and started firing into the austrian lines. Some men hid behind tombstones, sniping at the bullets, while thanking the dead for their cover. Bodies and pieces of bodies lay all over the place. The austrians had managed to sneak some artillery into the cemetary, with diastorous results.

Andre and Delacroix joined in on the next wave of attack, following the lead of a dozen men in front of them. A huge roar and flash of light appeared in front of them, and those twelve men quickly dissapeared into a hail of smoke and lead balls. A pack of Austrian troops were caught in the crossfire, and their bodies were litterally splattered against the tombstones. Fighting now brought out into a melee, men fought with bayonets, clubs or just bare fists. The Austrians wavered at the savagery of the revolutionary soldiers.

Another thunder sounded from the austrian line.

Canister.

The bodies of ten french and five austirans vanished into a cloud of red mist. The sheer force of the explosion sent many of their pieces back towards their comrades. Andre in that split second, saw more blood than he had ever seen in his life. He stopped in shock and stared at his red hands; the sound of battle drowning out as he fell into numbness. The horror of it all was seeping deep into his mind, and andre was in his own little world. He thought he was hit and he checked all over to see if any of the blood was his.

A man grabbed the bewildered private by the collar and dragged him back towards the french lines, their comrades ignored the two men and ran wildly towards the paniking austrians. Andre continued to stare at his hands....which were shaking..... Explosions ripped through the ground around them. Nearby, an Austrian was down on his hands and knees, begging for his life. The French soldier smiled, cocked his musket and shot the man through the mouth. The bullet went straight through, shooting a trail of blood in the air as it passed through his major arteries, muscles and tissues, exploding out of his neck.

"GET UP!" Delacroix yelled as he slapped the private in the face. That brought him back to his senses. The French soldiers proceeded to loot the dead bodies of the Austrians now. The poor soldier who had his mouth shot through was quickly stripped of his boots and pack, where he had kept a bottle of wine and some german sausages to celebrate today's victory with his comrades.

"I'm sorry....." Renes got back up, he noticed that fighting in the cemetary had diminished, the french had succeeded in capturing most of it, while the austrians were withdrawing from their diminishing area. A coffin lay just feet away from Andre, its case blown open, and the body dangling out of the side like a puppet without strings. It was in a most awkward position, a leg remained in the casket while the rest of the body was spread out on the ground. The man however, would have some company in the graveyard, as the bodies of five french soldiers were dropped into the crater that was once his grave.

"We're done our work here.....now it is up to them" Delacroix stuck his bayonet onto the ground, and leaned on the musket. Andre just sat there and watched. Everyone was exhausted, yet they had beaten the best troops that those pampered nobles could send, now all they had to do was stand there and watch what General Davout had planned for the Austrians....

***

"URRAH! URRAH!" The Austrian columns yelled in unison, raising their muskets into the air at each syllable. Smoke covered the battlefield, and charred craters became a part of the landscape now, along with the burnt wine orchards and churches.

Davout watched the austrian advance and smiled. Longliers and Cite de la Justice had fallen, and Davout had to weaken his center to take those two valuable positions on the enemy flanks, and that left his army's center weakened. The enemy austrians saw this, and eagerly sent their reserve of columns in to finish the job. Davout smiled, it was like baiting a fish with a worm, the enemy was marching to his death.

He looked down onto the valley of french troops, who formed from column into line. The men were confused as to why they would adopt this weak formation in the face of the powerful Austrian columns, but they obeyed.

The French surprisingly, only brought up a few of their cannon to deter the Austrian march. This was partially because he was running out of ammunition for the cannon. He prayed that his plan would work......

Slowly, but surely the austrians got more closer. The order to raise muskets in the french line was given and a few thousand soldiers pointed their muskets at the enemy columns.

"FIRE!"

A sheet of smoke bursted out of the french line, and the Austrians fell by the hundreds. The Austrians however, noted that the french had used up their volley, quick marched to cover the mere 100 yards.

"CHAARRGE!!" The Austrian troops ran furiously, eager to avenge their losses at the Cemetary and Chateau. But they were amazed that the French infantry were so calm in the face of such an attack. No matter! They would break just the same!

At fifty yards, A french order was shouted through the ranks and the men got into action.

Throughout the french lines, every other company took a step to their right and marched smartly to the rear of the company next to them, forming many small columns within a line. but what shocked the austrians was what occupied the space between the small infantry columns. Cannons.

Cannons that were previously hidden by the French line, and now the austrian advance wavered.

"TIREZ!" Dozens of cannon fired their last shot of canister and grape into the mob of Austrians. The three Austrian columns were torn apart by cannonfire to their front and flanks. The survivors standing dazed as they were bathed in the blood of those in front of them.

A french general pointed his sword forward and the french line gave a huge cheer before rushing with bayonets. The small columns of companies added the extra weight which broke the austrian line.

Hundreds of soldiers, throwing away muskets and packs, ran for their lives. At this point Davout released the French cavalry from the reserves, and hundreds of horsemen filled the valley, swinging at any heads that were unfortunate enough to meet their blades.

***

"We did it!" Delacroix laughed in exhilaration. He patted Andre on the back... "We did it!"

"Yes..." Andre smiled.... he had survived his first battle, but deep down he had this feeling that this was only the beginning.

To Come: Napoleon in corsica.

[TreizeV]

interlude in Corsica

It was dark on the island of corsica, a gentle breeze bathed the harbour in refreshing coolness, while hundreds of little lights surrounded the ships and men in the harbour. Lamps and candles were lit all over the island, to celebrate the fall of King Louis. Corsica was now part of the french republic, and for the first time, all citizens had full rights like their french counterparts.

Corsica wasn't much of an island. It was rough territory, covered in deep gorges, forests and mountains. Since ancient times, Corsica was always under the thumb of one ruler or another. Greeks, Romans, Arabs, Genoians, French, all had an imprint on Corsican life. People lived simply on this little island, minding their own business while the world revolves.

Yet Napoleon called this small island home.

The longboat slowly made its way into the harbour. Negotiating the boats which crowded the harbour. Traders and Merchants dealt over the water, buying and selling exotic spices while children and men danced in the streets in celebration of their new found freedom.

As the boat passed by, the children took the time to wave to the small french officer in the boat. Napoleon laughed, waving his cocked hat in the air at them. He was home at last.....

***

The Next Day....

"Welcome home brother!!!" Lucien took his younger brother into his arms, and kissed his cheeks. "We have missed you! How have you been ? you must be a celebrity now!" The young captain returned the compliment with a bear hug. It was good to be home!

Napoleon was led into his old house, where the old empty room still lay intact.....on the walls were pictures of military formations he used to draw as a child. His mother, Letizia, used to let the children have their free time in this room. While his brothers and sisters played with dolls and child's games, Napoleon played with his toy cannon, which fired using real gunpowder! The young captain laughed as he recalled the days when the neighbours would use to complain about the ruckus he would cause.

Napoleon was bombarded by a flood of questions as familes and friends gathered around the dinner table. Dinner consisted simply of bread, wine and some fish, but it was enough to make anyone's mouth water. The family ate heartily.

"It has been fine Lucien!" Napoleon leaned back into his chair, then sipped some wine out of his glass.

"Please brother, you must tell us of your journeys." Joseph smiled as he carved another slice of bread with a knife.

"I would rather not talk about it, it is a madhouse over there.. in Paris." Napoleon shivered, recalling the massacres he had seen over the last few weeks.

"Well you will be happy to know that we won't have to be a part of it. Have you heard? Paoli is back!" Another man laughed, obviously happy with the news.

Napoleon remembered Paoli well. A fiery patriot of corsica. He fought against the French and indeed, he was Napoleon's hero for a time. When the French defeated the Corsican resistance and drove the rebels to the hills. it was Napoleon's father, Carlo Bonaparte who made peace with the French. Young Napoleon never forgave his father for betraying his Corsican heritage. He would remember saying harshly that Carlo was rather "too fond of pleasure."

Yet that was years ago, and twenty three year old napoleon returned to Corsica as an idealistic revolutionary. True Paris was a madhouse, but he had always imagined that Corsica would become a part of Free France. The conversation lasted throughout the night, and Napoleon seriously began planning for the future.....

"Come now brother! Another round of wine!" Lucien shouted across the table.

"Just try and stop me! Gerome! Louis! Another round of drink!" Napoleon laughed along with everyone. He would celebrate for now!

Napoleon drank the night away, yet deep within his mind, he was already plotting....

***

Over the past few weeks, the future of corsica became a serious issue at the dinner Table. Attending public speeches by Paoli, Napoleon began to realize how much he had changed. Paoli would settle for nothing less than independence, and Napoleon quickly went to work.

Napoleon quickly established himself as Colonel and head of the Cosrican national guard, by kidnapping his potential rivals. Using the guard as a powerbase, he tried to storm adjacco and capture it for france. Unfortunately for the young captain, it failed, and he was branded an outlaw.

***

Several weeks later

It was dark rainy night outside the Bonaparte house, large droplets of rainy hitting themselves against the windows, while a loud wind blew throughout the city. The members of the family were sound asleep, all except Lucien, who was with his studies. Letizia also took the time to finish off some chores in the household..

Suddenly the door bursted open, and there was Napoleon in his great coat.

Letizia got up and quickly went to Napoleon, who was gasping for air. Little did she know, Napoleon narrowily escaped the clutches of a mob gathering on the outskirts of town.

"Make ready to leave!" Napoleon quickly told his mother, "This country is not for us!"

Lucien looked behind his brother, and saw a large mob forming several blocks away. He quickly ran upstairs to wake the household, but Letizia was already stuffing clothes into a bag.

"I'm sorry." Napoleon whispered, then kissed Letizia on the cheek.

"It could not be avoided, now lets hurry! before we get caught."

***

The Bonapartes reached France just in time for 1794, setting up shop in a new town of Marseilles. Back to France....Back to the chaos.

Captain Napoleon reported for duty.


(I apologize if this was a little too crappy i didn't have the patience to write a good dialogue for this section when so much is happening elsewhere napoleon simply must go to where the action is! in italy and france )

Coming up next: The Reign of Terror!
The Siege of Toulon

[Machiavellian]

I await future updates. Are we going to get perspectives from any of the other countries? Not that I am complaining. I thought this quote fit the second part of the battle well.

"If your bayonet breaks, strike with the stock. If the stock gives way, hit him with your fists. If your fists are hurt, bite him with your teeth"
- General Mikhail I. Dragomirov

[TreizeV]

Machiavellian Of course this will include perspectives from other countries, i did say this is a sequel to Pax Britainnica

"Great crimes can be committed in the name of great principles, but they are crimes nevertheless."
-Albert Marrin

The Reign of Terror

A large ship of the line returned to Toulon several weeks after the rebellion in Corsica, which was bloodily put down the French government forces. Paoli was sent back to England, doomed to live a life of Obscurity.

The young Captain Napoleon quickly left his ship when it reached toulon, heading for his post in the 4th artillery regiment stationed just outside the city. As the young captain ran through the streets, he could see that the revolution had entered a new phase. Government soldiers were everywhere, running about with muskets and bayonets in hand. Napoleon saw a local merchant beaten to a bloody pulp. He was declared a "despot" for overcharging the prices for the French soldiers, and that automatically made him an enemy of the people.

It didn't take long for the young captain to figure out what was happening. Napoleon quickly bought a newspaper from one of the merchant carts and started reading...

France now had a new government, the Committee of Public safety. "Public Safety" Napoleon guessed, was whatever suited the needs of the new leader, Maximilien Robespierre.

Napoleon knew Robespierre, a former lawyer from Arras, and as he continued reading, the very thought of that man sent chills down his spine. According to Robespierre, to save France, the nation must be purified of all traitors, dishonesty and immorality by any means, Including mass murder.

A reign of terror was declared, and the process of law was wiped out. Now one only needed "Moral proof" to condemn a man to death on the grounds of treason. No one was safe. If someone was thought to even remotely support the king, then they were killed. If someone sold bad wine to soldiers, they were killed. All died as "enemies of the people".

Napoleon's stomach turned as he read more headlines. "massacres in vendee", "Mass Executions in Nantes."
At Nantes, 2,000 victims were tied up and gagged, then towed to the middle of the Loire river and thrown overboard, left to drown. Hundreds more were herded into groups and then bayoneted or shot........

Napoleon put down the paper in disgust, there was nothing he could do now however, but rejoin his regiment. And so the captain navigated his way through the chaos in the streets, praying he would make it through alive...

***

Lieutenant Jean Renes paced back and forth along the lines of his regiment. The men were smartly at attention in their blue uniforms, Muskets and stocks in perfect order. It was almost dawn and Jean looked up to watch a flock of birds fly above the square, the sky was an unnatural yellow.

Crowds gathered around the square, in the center was a huge platform, where a large board and two posts stood. The posts held up a blade...A triangular blade which glistened in the rays of the dying sun, as it was covered in fresh blood. Jean detested the guillotine, not just because it represented all that the terror stood for, but it was a cold intimidating device. Science and barbarism all combined to create this end product, a souless killing machine.

Executions around the Guillotine quickly became a popular form of entertainment. There were grandstands constructed, peddlers selling wine and cheese to the audeience, while women sang and danced everywhere. A statue of liberty overlooked the Paris Guilotine, while gardens and streets were littered with liberty trees. The people too, were caught in this, all had to wear the red cap that represented liberty. Those that didn't, did so at their own discretion.

The Carriage arrived slowly, as the crowd gradually gave way to form a small path which led to the middle of the square. Four horses pulled the magnificient carriage into the square, where it stopped just in front of the guillotine.

A moment of silence occured, that is, until Louis XVI stepped out.
The crowd jeered, cursed and hooted as the king made his way out.

Jean had been standing at the bottom of the stairway in front of the cart, and he watched curiously as the king paid no heed to the crowds contempt.

As soon as the king descended from the carriage, three executioners surrounded him and wished to take off his coat. He repulsed them with dignity and took it off himself. The executioners, paying no heed to his defiance, then forcibly took the king by his arms.

"What are you trying to do?" Louis asked furiously.

"Tie you." One of the executioners spoke Stoically.

"Tie me!” Louis replied in an annoyed tone “No, I will never consent; do what you are ordered to do, but I will not be tied; renounce that idea.”

“Sire,” One of his aides said to him with tears, “in this new outrage I see only a final resemblance between Your Majesty and the Saviour who is to reward you.”

At these words the King lifted his eyes to heaven with a sorrowing look and, turning to the executioners, said: “Do what you wish; I will drain the cup to the dregs.”

The king slowly made his ascent up the stairs, which were very steep. Clinging onto the arm of an aide for assistance. Some wondered whether the king was truly afraid or not, but that was cast aside as Louis XVI ran over the last step, looked at the crowd defiantly and put his hand to his chest. he then ushered his last words witha voice so strong that it could be heard a few blocks away, he distinctly pronounce these words forever memorable: “I die innocent of all the crimes imputed to me. I pardon the authors of my death, and pray God that the blood you are about to shed will never fall upon France.”

The executioners seized him, tied him to the board, and let the blade drop, his head fell at fifteen minutes after ten. The executioners seized it by the hair, and showed it to the multitude, whose cries of “Long live the Republic!” resounded to the very bosom of the Convention, whose place of meeting was only a few steps from the place of execution.

Jean sighed as he watched the display, and truly wondered if the king's words would come true, that the blood of all the victims of the terror would truly come back upon them like a punishment from god.

The crowd continued cheering, and Jean was lost in his thoughts.....

Up Next: The revolts of Toulon and Vendee
The end of the terror: Enter the Directory

[Machiavellian]

Ahhh, Robespierre has taken control. 'Terror with Virtue'. France can not be in good shape, but I am confident that Napoleon will write the wrongs of the so called republic.

Hey, for once a King had died and no one can say the line 'The King is dead, Long live the King'