OOC: I hope you don't expect too much... It has been a while since I have exercised the third-person-historical-persona AAR. But thanks for the enocouragement. I know the below is short, but I had little time this morning due to multiple reasons. I will add more soon.
***********************
The English Channel, 1799
It had been four years. Four long years since he had taken up a command under Napoleon. Four years, through the German campaign, through the long wait, to come to this. Ney had never liked waiting. And here he was, doing it again, gritting his teeth, waiting for this wretched ship to cross the cursed English Channel.
He looked over at Napoleon himself, on the same transport as he. An innocuous one, of course, the one that floated all the banners and the fanfare was Villenvenue’s flagship. One of over sixty main ships and hundreds of smaller barges, taking one of the few calm points in the Channel’s history. Napoleon, emperor of France, did not seem to be much inclined for sea travel, either. Then why had he ordered... This?
Besides a few exploratory raids on Picardie (driven back by the Emperor before he went on the German campaign), and Pondicherry (Grouchy handled those, though rumor had it that his army was having trouble with the Hindus), the English had never bothered them in all their time. Much more valuable would have been a direct attack on Austria, straight to their capital. All they had down there was a mere thirty thousand under Davout. Whereas they were coming across the channel with forty thousand, Suchet had thirty thousand in Hannover, Marmont had fifteen thousand in Navarre, and Murat just sat on his hands encamped on the Rhine River in Alsace! Why to England, when a mere thirty thousand were trying to defeat Austria? Why?
Perhaps it was a matter of pride. That he could understand. The Emperor’s pride dictated this. But he still did not think it wise to voice his opinions. The Emperor was never tolerant for other’s opinions.
Suddenly a cry broke the awkward silence, “Land! Land ahead!”
He rushed to the deck and–sure enough–in plain view were the white chalk cliffs of Dover. He let out a cry of jubilation. “My Emperor, my emperor, there lies the shores of England! Within a month we will be encamped in London!” He raised his voice to a shout, “Vive le’Empereur! Vive le’Revolution! Vive le’Nation!” The other ship crews took up the cry. “Vive le’ Empereur!”
Napoleon seemed pleased by the cheers for him, and he struck a dramatic pose, one arm pointing towards England. “To London!” he shouted.
