England Expects
King and Country in the War
Bring me my Bow of burning gold;
Bring me my Arrows of desire:
Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire!
-William Blake
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England Expects
King and Country in the War
Bring me my Bow of burning gold;
Bring me my Arrows of desire:
Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold!
Bring me my Chariot of fire!
-William Blake
The door opened regardless, and in strode Lord Philadelphia.
"Get up, my son!"
The Honourable Carlisle Holmes, second son of the Earl Philadelphia (second creation) glanced blearily up at his father. His father was smiling. His father, in fact, was beaming at him. This was not good. Resigning himself to his fate Holmes dragged himself up to a sitting position and managed to address his father with a semblance of respect.
"Yes, sir?"
"I have some excellent news," Lord Philadelphia said "you will finally be put to use beyond hunting."
With a dawning horror Holmes read through the paper which his father handed him, feeling a sickening taste crawl up his stomach.
The Royal Army Chaplains Department, on behalf of His Majesty George III, hereby instates The Honourable Carlisle Holmes as a Chaplain of His Majesty's Army under the auspices of the Church of England. After receiving requisite Orders, the Reverend Holmes is to report immediately to the nearest centre of deployment.
Royal Army Chaplains Department
In Hoc Signo Vinces
God save the King,
The Most Revd and Rt Hon John Moore,
Archbishop of Canterbury and Primate of All England
"You... you can't be serious. It's not possible to purchase a commission with the Chaplaincy. I'm not even so much as a Deacon, for Christ's sake father."
His father's angelic smile never dimmed. "You know Reverend Moore and I are friends Carlisle, and we were talking the other day about my layabout son -- I think you know him -- and we hit upon a certain solution. You'll be ordained tomorrow and shipped out the next day. If I were you, I'd get dressed to make arrangements."
With that he spun on his heel and left the room, leaving his son distraught and confused. Eventually he sighed. Mentally bidding goodbye to hunting, operas in London, and the general delights of society Holmes began to dress himself. He was not a successively pious man, but was more or less observant and more importantly did not have the means to fight his father on this. Lord Philadelphia was wealthy, influential, and had friends in high places which extended beyond the See of Canterbury. There was no choice.
For God, King, and Country...
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The scary thing, of course, is that you've picked the title I would have used if I were to ever get around to writing a MotE AAR. (Well, you've used half of it, anyway...) 
I'm intrigued by your opening, though – not in the least as choosing the Earl [of] Philadelphia, no less, seems an oblique choice of title, what with being American and all.
Looking forward to more!
I'm intrigued by your opening, though – not in the least as choosing the Earl [of] Philadelphia, no less, seems an oblique choice of title, what with being American and all.
Looking forward to more!
The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland
News of the Spanish declaration of war was... worrisome. To say it hadn't been expected would be quite wrong, but to say that it had been hoped against would be closer to the mark. Suddenly Gibraltar looked terribly isolated and Malta much farther away than previously and England began to marshal her forces in opposition. While neither Holmes (now Father Holmes, much to his dismay and the detriment of ecclesiastical law) nor any of his new fellows knew much about where they were going to be headed, it was clear that the Duke of York had plans for them all. The Portsmouth Fleet, consisting of eight ships of the line, was immediately dispatched to provide support against any Spanish attempts at blockade and to limit siege attempts to the land. There was no question of reinforcements to the garrison; Napoleonic numerical superiority was assured and any attempts at open conflict would swiftly lead to slaughter.
Or so had come the rumours from around Hull, soldiers milling about aimlessly before being shipped onto a transport to God-knows-where. It took time to assemble tens of thousands of men for deployment to foreign lands and so far over fifteen thousand men had gathered in the port under the general command of Sir Arthur Wellesley, while Sirs Edward Paget and Brent Spencer shipped in from Ireland to assume individual commands under him. Holmes had recieved letters from his father informing him of the defeat of the Gibraltar garrison and the subsequent beginning of the Spanish siege, but he prudently hadn't shown anyone this. No need to inflame the troops.
"C'mon Father, time to go."
Holmes turned around, brought from his reverie by this intrusion, which turned out to be under the aegis of his commanding officer, Collins. What was he? A Major? No, that wasn't it... Colonel? It was impossible to keep all these bloody ranks correct, so he settled for a bland "yes, sir?"
"You heard me, time to shove off. We have our orders," at this Collins waved a dispatch of indeterminate origin.
"Where to?"
"Denmark."
1st of July, 1805
After after a month, we have finally reached this god-forsaken island. Someone in Whitehall must have had an apoplexy to cast us off to this hole, but if His Majesty's Government deems that the cream of England's youth is best served besieging frozen rocks, then frozen rocks we shall besiege. Sir Edward's men are disembarking first, then Spencer's, then finally it is my turn to go with Wellesley and the reserves, God help us. The Danish are dug in tight amongst their fortresses here, defending one of the last outposts of their empire no doubt; and I don't envy the men who have to pick up guns and set off the cannons rather than merely provide aid and comfort. I have no doubt this will be a lasting engagement...
2nd of November, 1805
God bless Lord Paget. After months of besieging, Akureyi finally fell to his division today as his brother and Sir Arthur rested us for another assault. Our work is not done, of course, but there can now be some respite. Rationing has been especially harsh in these terrible climes and the stockpile which formerly was possessed by the Danes, depleted as it inevitably is, will at least make for a hearty dinner tonight. The word has come down that we will march for Reykjavík three days hence, settling in for another siege and the labourious work of establishing control over the rest of this ice-bound isle. After that, I expect we will move into Jutland or the like if we can manage to keep Boney off our tail...
12th of March, 1806
I had the marked privilege of being invited to dine with Sir Edward today, who I understand to be a somewhat devout man. Although my own tent, as a Chaplain, is no mean affair I found the warm and rather luxurious confines of his own to be a welcome relief. Aside from an enjoyable discussion of the Archbishop of Canterbury, whom we both hold in common acquaintance, and of what news has reached us of home these wretched months he also confided in me the plans of His Grace of York: we're going to seize Denmark's possessions abreast of Sweden. While the disappointing failure of Sweden to enter against the French should render this a more difficult affair than anticipated, and of course it is disappointing to be torn from the prospect of Jutland's somewhat warmer climate, he is confident that it will knock Denmark from the war. God willing...
May 19th, 1806
Rather unpleasant news today of a reorganisation of the forces. Whereas we had previously comprised three separate forces under the loose administration of Sir Arthur, with Spencer and the brothers Paget each commanding their own forces; the powers that be have decided that we will henceforth move as a single army under Sir Arthur's command. While I have no problem with that in and of itself, being assigned to the left flank under the command of Picton was a blow. Though competent, the man looses what little credit he earns thereof by indulging in savagery. I can only imagine being assigned to the campaign in the North is some sort of exercise, but with no thought taken to those who will have to suffer alongside him, especially with this announcement coming as we are at sea...
((Fun fact: For the duration of this update, Franco-Spanish forces in and immediately surrounding Gibraltar maxed out at 329,900 troops.))
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Denmark certainly isn't the "glamorous" destination one may have hoped for were one a soldier in 1805. Having said that, it does at least seem that the troops over there have a lesser propensity for (chance of?) dying than their Peninsular counterparts. I suppose the Hon. Revd. should be thankful.
Having said that, one minor note: the use of "Sir" is followed by one's first name, so it would be Sir Arthur and Sir Edward, rather than Sir Wellesley and Sir Paget, respectively.
Having said that, one minor note: the use of "Sir" is followed by one's first name, so it would be Sir Arthur and Sir Edward, rather than Sir Wellesley and Sir Paget, respectively.
Denmark certainly isn't the "glamorous" destination one may have hoped for were one a soldier in 1805. Having said that, it does at least seem that the troops over there have a lesser propensity for (chance of?) dying than their Peninsular counterparts. I suppose the Hon. Revd. should be thankful.
Having said that, one minor note: the use of "Sir" is followed by one's first name, so it would be Sir Arthur and Sir Edward, rather than Sir Wellesley and Sir Paget, respectively.
The Peninsula will turn out to be much different than OTL, and the Danish campaign will be... very special. And our protagonist is certainly no soldier either, so I doubt he is chomping at the bit for bloodshed.
And fixed!
Decided to check out a different section of the forum and I've found this nice little AAR. I'll follow along though I'm not familiar with the mechanics of March of the Eagles (despite seeing a few videos on YouTube ).
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subbed
Good luck!
Rule Britannia!
Britannia rule the waves
Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.
Rule Britannia!
Britannia rule the waves.
Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.
What are the pros and cons of the game? I'm thinking of buying it. I've heard a lot of people say it had a lot of potential before it was abandoned by the devs. Are there any mods to fix the cons? I tried looking into the mod forum but it didn't show me anything because I don't own the game. I do know there are mods though. The thread number said 185.
Good luck!
Rule Britannia!
Britannia rule the waves
Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.
Rule Britannia!
Britannia rule the waves.
Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.
What are the pros and cons of the game? I'm thinking of buying it. I've heard a lot of people say it had a lot of potential before it was abandoned by the devs. Are there any mods to fix the cons? I tried looking into the mod forum but it didn't show me anything because I don't own the game. I do know there are mods though. The thread number said 185.
My own impressions are that the game is very fun, very fast paced, but perhaps not as deep as other Paradox games. Naselus has a mod for MOTE (1793 Mod, I think it's called) that I know of.
