The Angels Blunder- An Austrian Napoleonic AAR

Chapter Zero- The Dusk

Franz Habsburg sat in his opulent throne room at Vienna, and was not content.

He received cordially the minor nobles and ambassadors that paraded before him that cold January day, mouthed appropriate responses, but he mind was far, far away with his armies in the lonely Rhine valley. How they had suffered for his own failings...

At once, Franz shook himself to awareness. The parade of politicatians had petered out, and now his military advisors awaited the strategy session.

The herald announced; "Kneel before His Most Catholic Majesty, Archduke of Austria, King of Hungary, Elector of Bohemia, Duke of the Netherlands, Defender of the Catholics, Baron of Milan, Overlord of the Croats, Duke of the Lombards, King of the Romans, and the Holy Roman Emperor Franz the Second."

The aforementioned worthy said, "You are dismissed, herald. And I believe I told you to cease prattling on for ten minutes at a time. You give me headaches."
"Now. My advisors. Has the letter from the Rhenish front true? Has the godless Directory truly overrun our possessions in the Netherlands?"

One elegantly dressed general arose from the kneel. "Yes, my lord. Our Army of the Netherlands has been degraded to a mere 30,000 men, and has been pushed into the Archbishopric of Mainz by the French forces. There is no hope of defeating their army in the north, and the Army of the Netherlands has been withdrawn towards Bohemia to strengthen our army there."

At this, Franz slumped, as if a puppeteer had cut his strings. "So... in the end, it comes to this? My people savaged... my armies mauled... my own dignity besmirched without a way to gain satisfaction? Advisors... is there any way, any where we can humble this Directory?"

One of the more timid advisors came forth. "My lord.. in the recent Italian conflicts, a single general came forth and showed great promise. Napoleon Bonaparte. Reports are sketchy, but we believe he will usurp the power of the godless Directory and claim power himself. We have no reason to expect that he will be content. Some of our analysts believe that in two years time, this Bonaparte will be assaulting Vienna with a fanatical "Grand Army" of godless Frenchmen."

Franz II Habsburg shut his eyes in anguish. "And diplomatically?"

"Sir, we have allies, but we do not coordinate our attacks. Savoy, Spain, Prussia, Russia, England, and we are all conflicting with the godless Directory, but... none of them are enthusiastic about the war. Russia and Prussia are splitting Poland in two between them, England is safe from invasion, Spain hides beneath her Pyrenees forts, and Savoy only resists invasion after the disastrous Italian war."

"So... truly, none would aid a final offensive into the lowlands by us?"

"Truly, sire, none would."

Franz II lowered his head. "Leave me, advisors. Sign peace with the Directory. Recognize them as the French government. I believe, as you, that this Napoleon will take their control. And when they, do, only a total war of all against him will end this horror the world has gone through.

I swear, with God as my witness, that this family shall not succumb to defeat before the hated Bonapartists.

Leave me, advisors."

Well, I've played the first five years and not only is he not yet dead, he's doing frighteningly well. I may have bitten off a harder task than I thought.

Update comes 7,8-ish EST.

"Fools.

Incompetents.

Imbeciles.

TRAITORS!"

Franz II vented his rage at his advisors in a low, angry chant, rising in stridency with each damning words.

"You have had five months, almost half a year, to carry out my directives. HAS EVEN ONE BEEN ACCOMPLISHED?!"

A quaking advisor stood up. "No... your excellency."

"I directed you to seek honorable terms from the French for a peace, so that we may collect our forces. Have you done that?"

"No, your Excellency." he quavered. "We remain at war."

"Have our allies at least been defended?"

"No, sire. Savoy has been devastated by an incomprehensibly vast 150,000 man French army."

"What have you done?"

"Sire, we have..."

"..."

"...laid foundations for a peace?"

Franz II's eyes narrowed at the luckless courtier. "Get thee to a regiment, pathetic fool. Fight and die for the Holy Roman Empire, and cleanse your name. You sicken me. Do any advisors have real ideas?"

"Sire. A punitive raid into Northeast France may draw off pressure on the Savoyards and give our people a victory to believe in."

Franz looked momentarily confused by this. "Eh? Attack? Very well, er, Erzerhogger, er, Easyhoager, er... Karl. You lead the attack yourself. Do not fail. Be ready to attack come the start of winter; with God's help we may suprise them."

"Yes, majesty."

--------------------------

August 18th, 1795. A bad day.

"Sire. News from Ezrahoagie Karl in Mainz. He has sited 200,000 troops in the Rhineland moving in a northeasterly direction towards the Prussian emplacements in Kleves. He begs direction.", a panting messenger arrived.

"Damn the man! Attack! Attack if possible! If the Prussians duck out of this war, we're all in the soup!" Franz roared. "Dammit, what about the Hungarians? Has their rebellion been quelled?"

"Yes, majesty. The Hungarians have been decisively defeated and are back in hiding."

"Damn. Keep me updated on news in the Rhenish front."

Even as the words left his mouth, another messenger dove panting into the room with a sack stuffed full of emergency messages.

"My liege. Kleves has fallen to a determined French assault. Errthehoggy Karl has already sent his 40,000 men into Kleves to retake it for the Prussians, and has directed a 20,000 man flanking force into Cologne to fend off any French siege-reliefs."

"Alles gut. And our overture to the Savoyards?"

"My liege, they persist in refusing us our right of access to carry the war to France on a second front."

"Damn fools." muttered Karl. "Fools, traitors, imbeciles..."

The courtiers looked at one another nervously. Franz was known for these. He could stay in a funk, mutteringly pointlessly for hours...

Interlude the First

It was a warm June day in the Rhenish front, and all was not quiet.

Due to extreme latitude given him by the almost-senile Franz II, Erzerhog Karl had taken virtual military command of the entire Rhineland. He had elected to split his forces in two; one, under himself, would relieve Kleves and assault Cologne to reduce pressure on the other German states in the area; a second primarily cavalry force would sweep through the heartland, disrupting life and striking fear into the people.

Such was the plan.

However, history had a mind of its own. The screening force, commanded by an incompetent Colonel Boroevitch, had that most hated of attributed by the Austrian military; initiative.

Colonel Boroevitch saw Baden alone and undefended. He knew, from a briefing with Marshall Karl earlier that week, that the gullible Badners had joined with the French. He saw, combining these two notices, an opportunity to humble the French with a defeat of one of their allies and gain a secure base of supply. So, ignoring his primary mission, and with only cavalry, Boroevitch set off to besiege Freiburg.

At the same time, a force of 20,000 Frenchmen under General Moreau sallied from Paris to break Karl's siege of Cologne. Also, in prearranged orders, the primary Badner army of 15,000 sortied to relieve their capitol and decimate the Austrians around it. Cruel fate decreed that the two battles would occur on the same day; June 29, 1796.

On the fields of Freiburg, Colonel Boroevitch; lackwit as he may be; certainly struck a fine figure for rallying his troops. "FOR GOD AND EMPEROR FRANZ!" he would scream repeatedly, urging his troops to plug another, and another, and another Badner thrust into his lines. At the height of the battle, Badner troops had caved in the entire middle with a vicious infantry charge, and Boroevitch himself was wounded. In a furious attempt to regain their commanders' body, the Austrian troops surged into the Badner's flanks and decimated their screen. Within hours, the Badner force had been utterly routed. The siege of Freiburg would continue. As Boroevitch lay on a bed recovering, an aide read aloud a letter to him;

"In desperate need of support. Cologne on verge of surrender. Moreau's troops almost at position, have only hours to tarry. Scouts have sighted Marshal Bonaparte with a fresh 30,000 troops approaching from your direction. Will fight for glory of Austria.

Marshall Karl"

As Boroevitch groaned, he could only wonder how much he had cost his country with his disobedience.



Erzrehog Karl didn't have to wonder. Being at the thick of the storm in what later historians would call the "First Battle of the Rhine", he knew.

"Cannon, disrupt the squares approaching up the hill. You've got to buy some more time for our men in our center, they're still dazed from that cavalry charge. Has anyone heard from our left? They lost contact with us earlier this afternoon."

Clapping a stained rag to his head to stanch the flow of blood from a musket ball nick in his scalp, Marshall Erzrehog Karl directed his troops masterfully. Having picked the fore of a chain of hills to give battle to Moreau's French force of 20,000, he only had to withstand the tempest to achieve striking victory. And now, this warm clear evening, he had done it. Though he had not heard the joyous news from his scouts yet, Napoleon's force had been diverted to the Netherlands to fend off fresh British offensives and Moreau had been killed in battle, his force scattering as news reached him.

The battles of summer, 1796 marked a high tide for the Austrian Coalition on the North-Rhenish front of combat. God knew how events would turn out.

And so the Austrian Army fights a series of pitched desperate battles on the Rhine to hold back the Francais Juggernaught, while in the south a far greater threat is revealed, as Napoleon Himself grinds Savoy to ashes. Will Franz II be able to hold both fronts? Will he be forced to retire from the Rhineland to save his Italian possessions? Will he be forced to sign a humiliating surrender?

Next time, on The Angels Blunder. Next episode airs Tuesday at 7-8 PM depending on drunkennsnsenness.

Aw jeez. Just Rocky. Or Mistah Horror. Or Frankie's Creature. Even sexy will do.

Chapter Two- Things Fall Apart

The October day was chill, but Franz II felt the duty to address his subjects anyway.

"My friends. My fellow Austrians. Today is a dark day for Germany, God, and the Empire. I have here in my hand," thrusting up a scrap of paper for all to see, "the final mortal words of our trusted, our brave, our valiant Erzrehog Karl. For Marshall Karl is DEAD!"

The crowd mumbled discontentedly, and Franz quieted them down with a flourish of the paper. "Napoleon himself, the hated antichrist, accursed among men, used base trickery to bag our brightest star. Perfidiously traveling into British territories to fight our loyal allies there, he without warning doubled back on himself merely to catch Karl's exhausted forces unawares. They all were killed, my subjects. Butchered. There were no prisoners."

The crowd bayed for revenge, like a pack of wild hogs. Franz bit his protruding lower lip and stared out to the crowd, thinking. He couldn't tell them that the only significant military force between Napoleon and Vienna was a ragtag 15,000 man force besieging Baden under the incompetent Colonel Boroevitch. Couldn't tell them that Savoy was demanding military aid now, or they'd fold and allow France military access, making a second front in the war. But, by God above, he could read them Karl's letter.

"My Emperor;

Scouts report Napoleon in my rear with 25,000 troops. Still engaging Moreau in my front. Am surrounded and do not expect to survive. Will fight for Austria until cut down. Long live the Emperor. Erzrehog Karl".

Franz let the letter drop into the emotional crowd. Like a tide, their chants washed over him; "Long live the Emperor. Long live the Emperor."

Franz left the balcony and began drawing up orders for a new conscription class in Vienna to serve as emergency reinforcement for the crumbling northern front. Colonel Bosch's 25,000 in Milan were reporting a stable front in the south, but god knew how long that last. Austria seemed pressed hard on all fronts. Now, all that was left was to wait for word of Boroevitch's demise.

Interlude- The Idiot Succeeds

"FIRE!" screamed Colonel Boroevitch, riding on his magnificent *and also stupid* steed among the artillery batteries. The combined roar of the 24 cannon deafened him, but Boroevitch laughed with glee. Explosions showed up against the Freiburg wall, knocking chunks of masonry off the wall and, in places, into the zigzagging troops the Austrians were using to approach the walls themselves. The siege of nine months was about to end; the wall was breached in three places, and the town inside was burning, but the stubborn garrison refused to surrender. Boroevitch, in return, was pounding the city with all he had and slightly more. The remnants of the Badner field army had dashed themselves to a disorganized flinders against his screening force a month ago, and the French Army had thus far not been inclined to save their luckless ally.

At once, Boroevitch heard over the ringing in his ears the sound of distant cannon to the west; in the direction of France. Instantly, the idiot colonel's blood froze; his scouts hadn't had any report of a French force in the area. At least, they hadn't returned with any. The cannon became louder, and incongrously cheerful popping musket noises sounded closer. Boroevitch frantically ordered his entire reserve into the impressive screening line shielding his troops from outside intervention. He rode up himself, to try to hold the line against the Francais relief...

When Boroevitch arrived, he saw at once that hope was lost. His besieging force, after a harsh winter, numbered no more than 8,000 infantry and cavalry, with 24 cannon in support. The enemy had roughly twice that, and were fresh troops. Boroevitch couldn't recognize any banners, which meant that it was a fresh unit...

"Infantry! Make ready for hand to hand combat! Do not let them shoot us down like blushing virgins, make them come after us. We can beat these French sons of whores any day in a fair fight, just make sure we get one! Cavalry, dismount and get down there in the muck with the infantry; No bold sweeps will save us now." Boroevitch boomed orders to his apprehensive troopers, who rushed with alacrity to carry out his orders.

Presently, the French arrived, and the world dissolved into a neverending blur of enraged, dirty, bloody faces, the hot driving sun, and the bayonet. Always, the bayonet.


Future textbooks would describe the defense by Boroevitch of Freiburg to be one of the textbook Napoleonic era defenses of a siege, but in truth, what saved him was the 15,000 man detachment of fresh troops from Vienna, left only four months ago after recieving notification of Karl's defeat. The sudden appearance of fresh Austrians on their unguarded flank shocked the slowly-advancing French into retreat. When the fresh, clean-shaven colonel beheld Boroevitch's haggard men and the appearance of Boroevitch himself, all he had to say was;

"Sir, I relieve you."

"Sir, one may not be relieved from the bowels of Hell. I shall never be relieved again."

"Colonel Boroevitch, I place my troops at your disposal with a fresh order from Franz II to take Freiburg and force Baden out of the war... Colonel?"

Spent from the hard day's defense, Boroevitch had collapsed. But no matter. The fight had left the Badners after watching the pitched battle scant miles from their burning capitol, they signed a complete surrender and the Margrave, Karl Heinrich, traveled to Vienna to kneel at Franz's feet himself. Boroevitch, for his heroism, was appointed the emperor's governor in newly vassalzied Baden, with the directive to make it a base for staging raids into the valuable Alsace-Lorraine.

The good news was tempered by an aide-de-camp for Boroevitch bursting into the celebration with the news; Napoleon had been sighted in north Germany, having compelled the British to quit the continent after losing a pitched battle on the Baltic coast, and failing to hold Oldenburg. One step forward, two steps back, and the Austrians appeared little closer to realizing the goal.

"You're telling me WHO is now in commande of the entire Rhenish front? Surely not that lackwit Boroevitch. You did not say that. I am so certain that you did not say it, I will stake your life on it."

Franz thundered at incompetent generals, God, and Napoleon, in roughly that order. News had overall been pleasing in the fall of 1797, although dark spots remained. On the plus side, the whole of the Southern front remained stable. Boroevitch's force in Baden had raided Alsace several times, withdrawing in the face of superior French reinforcements in each time, and overall Austrian field army strength on the Rhine broke 80,000 with the arrival of a fresh conscript attachment.

Unfortunately, the French had 120,000 on the Rhenish front, and much better generals. The current phase of the war was principally limited to the English possessions in North Germany; France and Austria fought over them incessantly the full year, with token and nondecisive support from the English themselves. At year's end, the French were to hold Oldenburg and Bremen, with Hanover being retained by the Austrian garrison with England's profuse thanks. In the center, Boroevitch had gone on to besiege the Prussian town of Koln; although he appealed for help, Blucher's 80,000 Prussians refused to join the fight.

At once, over Franz's musings, an aide burst in.

"AMIENS AND CALAIS FALL TO ENGLISH SNEAK ATTACK! PARIS ITSELF THREATENED! TROOPS BEGINNING WITHDRAWL EN MASSE FROM GERMANY AND THE RHINE TO DEAL WITH NEW THREAT!"

"By God!" shouted Franz. "This is our chance! Envelop and encircle one of Napoleon's retreating armies, and we have a shot- a good shot- at bagging him with it! Who's in command over there?"

"Boroevitch, sir... don't kill me, please, liege?"

"Blast. Very well. Order Boroevitch to insert himself between two armies, and have General Mack's forces close the lid on it. God grant victory and Napoleon's death." Franz settled on his throne to await word of fickle Fortune...

Interlude the Third- The Battle of Hanover

Boroevitch surveyed his field works. Impressive as they were, they only spanned an arc five miles wide stretching from the source of the Weser in the plains to an unanchored point some distance away. If Boroevtich and Austria had received good intel, in the next three hours a French army commanded by, the scouts reported only, "a very high-ranking general, perhaps Napoleon himself" would be attempting to retreat to Paris to beat off the British, and would be taking the short way around the Weser to get there.

And right into the Austrian trap.

15 miles away, in a densely wooded grove, General Mack concealed his 24,000 troops as best he could. He knew that the battle would be won or lost on the timeliness of his intervention; Scouts estimates put the French army at roughly 30,000, and Boroevitch's covering force only numbered 11,000. When both Austrian armies engaged, ideally the French army would be outnumbered, surrounded, and beyond help; with poor timing, Boroevitch, the greatest Austrian hero of the war to date, and Mack would be dead, along with thousands of others dead or prisoner. This was to be the Napoleonic War's most decisive battle to date.

Mack heard cannons, and urged his cavalry into a quick march. If all went well, the French would attempt an advance in echelon across the works to escape, not knowing the defender's true strength; if matters developed well, the Austrian cavalry would smash the French flank to flinders and cave in the whole line. If that failed, however, the infantry would arrive 45 minutes later, soon enough to bottle up most of the enemy forces and, God willing, the general in command himself...

A cannon shot crashed to earth 15 yards from Boroevitch, as always in the center of the action. The French had eschewed finesse and were attempting, with their numerical superiority, to punch a whole in Boroevitch's lines and escape to the beckoning Rhineland and France. Boroevitch estimated five more minutes until Mack's cavalry arrived, if it got there on time; Once that happened, the entire French army would be trapped.

A group of several dozen French grenadiers flung themselves into the defensive works, bayonets up and swinging. As Boroevitch called hoarsely for his reserves, he shot one grenadier down with his own weapon; deciding he had no time to reload, he took up his own bayonet and charged the remaining grenadiers. When reinforcements arrived, they found a wounded but happy Boroevitch manning the emplacement himself and bleeding on the floor. Boroevitch refused to be relieved of his post, even when the French shouts of "VIVE L'EMPEREUR" changed to hoarse cries of horror, and the staccato thumping of a mass of hoofbeats shook the earth. It wasn't long after that that the French army surrendered their arms en masse. The Austrians encamped on the bank of the Weser to count and identify prisoners.

The next morning- November 17, 1797; the marshal Bernadotte was found among the dead. Napoleon had escaped fate, one surviving captain managed, by a mere hour's delay in his own army's movement.

(See? I'm nice. Even with no feedback, you get two updates a night, nice and regular. Don't say I never gave you nuttin.

No update tonight. Profs decided giving 3 exams in one day was a bangup wonderful idea.

I'm good for it, though. I can make it up. You get not one but two two-post updates Friday! How's that for a deal! And I won't even hold the AAR feedback-ransom.

Chapter 5- The Stage Is Set

November 2, 1798

Franz looked at the envoy.

"How much, you said?"

"Emperor, the offer is for 200,000 ducats and peace between France and Austria.", the meek envoy stuttered.

Franz's face grew purple by a roundabout route; flushing deep red, then paler as the flush climbed towards his crown. "The audacity. The NERVE. Three years of constant warfare, we finally begin getting the upper hand in the Rhineland and northwest Germania, and the Directoire demands a ransom from us now? Of all the..."

"...Sir, the offer is that they pay us."

"Oh. Well, that does make more sense, then." Franz quickly lost some of his righteous anger and color. "Still no deal, though."

"My lord?"

"We can get a better deal if we wait. Time is on our side."

"Very well, lord."

April 1, 1799

Franz was concluding a foreign policy conference when the news came.

"Freidrich... my friend. Your help is desperately needed to roll back the French, even if you refuse to aid Kleves!" Franz stormed.

"Your forces are defending my territories adequately. I feel my army is best served defending Magdeburg, where the French have invaded once already- and repulsed spectacularly." The proud speaker was Frederick Wilhelm III, King in Prussia.

"Friedrich, a drunk French corps commander attacked Blucher's 90,000 man army with his own 10,000 man garrison, and retreated rapidly. That is not the stuff heroism is made of. The Austrian army has been fighting pitched battles on the Rhine, and one two separate occasions saved Kleves, for THREE YEARS!" Franz felt the deep flush begin again, as it tended to when he angered.

"Gentlemen, let us not fight." said the British ambassador. "We all want the Directory's downfall, no? And with our recent landing in Calais squashed by Napoleon and 75,000 reinforcements, the recent victories of the Austrians in the Rhineland may be for nought."

"I agree. In fact, I have ordered 17,000 troops to begin basing raids into southern France from Milan to draw off more troops." Franz beamed; this had been his own idea."

The British ambassador coughed politely. "I don't believe you have the right to invade Savoy, majesty..."

"The Savoyard ruler is guest in Vienna, due to French assaults on his person. He was compelled to acknowledge my right of military access. At length." Franz scowled darkly.

"Ah- yes- I see. Well, gentlemen, we-"

And aide burst into the room waving a paper. "Majesties! Ambassador! Napoleon has taken the position of First Consul of France, and the Directory is broken. Bonaparte rules France!"

The respective nobles looked at each other, and broke up. There was much now to be done.

Interlude the Fifth

"Wheel around! Strike them in their flank!" shouted Lieutenant General Melan. Doing a slight jig in his command tent, he thrust his hand at the map of the area and exclaimed, "THEY ARE BEATEN!"

"Yes sir, they are." A rather dyspeptic Col. Bosch rasped. "But the Danish..."

"Ach, the Danish can go get drunk somewhere. The French are the threat, man, the French! And their lickspittle Dutch friends, too, yes. Two armies beaten in a week by an inferior force. I'll go down in history, Bosch. 'The Legend of Oldenburg' or such." proclaimed Melan, rather extravagantly.

"Sir, the French force was routed because we caught them in the middle of a full assault on Oldenburg, and the Dutch were recent levies sent to aid in the assault. We had good timing, but this was nothing special. And although we did capture Lefevbre,", Bosch started, "He was not one of their best."

"Bah! This is a victory more grandiose than the Battle of the Weser led by that dandy Boroevitch! Where is he, anyway?"

"He leads the 5,000 cavalry that have been raiding all around France daringly for the last half year, sir. He reached the outskirts of Paris on one raid from Baden. The Alsace-Lorraine and old Burgundy are burning merrily still, just as southern France burns due to our parties based in Savoy." Bosch began getting out some figures. He enjoyed figures. They made sense, unlike generals.

"THen how do the confounded French keep resisting? A small army on the border-"

"-100,000 men at last count, probably preparing to take Kleves and all of British Germany by force at any moment-"

"and a few parties sent to respond to our raiders-"

"-26,000 elite cavalrymen. SIR! France cannot be beaten so easily!" Bosch desperately tried to shower reality on his boss's face, to keep him from ordering an assault on Cologne or some other damnfool thing.

"Ah well. Withdraw the troops in Anhalt, Bosch. We'll wait for the French to make their next move."

"Thank you sir."