Eigthteen century Warfare or How Niklas I became the Niklas The Paratroopcavarlieer among the military
Gollevainen entered the tent and gave his best attempt to look unimportant, such like an any normal old and white-bearded fellow delving in the HQ tent...
“Excuse me lord minister.”
Gollevainen glanced out from mere unfamiliarity to his new title... Prime minister. It had its appeal. He smiled. The adjutant who had interrupted him tried to look polite and meager at the same time he seemed to attempt of some sort of disapproving pose of such civil official messing in the army's quarters.
“Yeas?”
“May I ask what brings his highness into here?”
“A plan...”
“A Plan? What sort of plan?”
“A master plan of the new extension of Gollenople's new beach suburbs....A WAR PLAN! Isn't this the HQ of the 3rd army corps?”
But before Gollevainen had even mastered his self pleasing expression rightly in its place, the Adjutant gave his best appearance of modesty disguised mockery.
“Krrhmm...”, He begun. “Actually this is the HQ of Group Riga...*
*****
Winter 1719, Somewhere around Tornio Valley.
“So instead of storming our brave cavalry via Prussia to help our allies, you've think its wiser to bring them here in the far reaches of the earth?”
“Yeas...”
“So instead of keeping pressure for Prussian MI by fortifying our frontier and tying down substantial amounts of enemy regiments, Its wiser to bring them here in Lapland?”
“What lies there beyond the river?”
“Mmmm...”
“Migth it be Prussia?”
“Yeas but, In my obinion, the Sweden Isn't...”
“Well to me it is...”
“Your highness...”
And so they rode on. The Finnish cavalry, to whom god himself had secured a spot of glory among humans military tradition, crossed the border first time ever to a foreign land.
And that land was severe and cold forest, dark and inhabitable, differing none of the land they rode from. The winter pushed them hard and men wrapped themselves into every clothing their hands reached and the horses pounched restlessly from each others, as the hastily gathered 1st Bothnic Army, consisting the IIIAK and Group Riga rode among the narrow paths that the Prussian mapping (inaccurate as usual) claimed as highways.
The shattered army defeated the storms and winter, among that few hungry packs of wolves and some miscellaneous group of thugs sieging a rich estate in Upsala in hope of good loot, claiming to be Norwegian patriots, and therefore High Yngling blood liberating their land from the Prussian oppression. Gollevainen saw trough their true varjag - corsair nature and let them to be hanged as the local nobles thanked them and gave them good regale for their work.
As the springtime approached, so did Stockholm, the city of logs, Gollevainen's goal and destiny. An army of 30,000 Prussian horsemen kept garrison there in the small enclave of Prussian Scandinavia. What had been army of 100,000 Finnish horsemen, had bled into a bunch of mere 50,000 scavengers, cold, hungry and desperate man, with few idea why they were in here and not in somewhere cozy and warm...
Gollevainen – If being honest, had little of idea why they were in here at first place neither. It just felt somehow important...not militarily, nor especially politically – the Roman ambassador had just inquired whether the Finnish King was planning to join the war in near future – accidentally or not forgetting that Finland was among the first to Declare the War on Prussia as it attacked Rome.
“Are the mans ready?”
“Beats me, they've rode over thousand mile across the Bothnia...”
“Well have you done the morale rising speeches and promised them virgins and loot and all other that good cross-believers needs when going into a war?”
“...”
“Was that yeas or no?”
“Your highness, I don't think that...”
“Anyway, time of talking is over, let there be time for sword!”
And ceremonially Gollevainen pulled his sabre from its hilt and galloped ahead, feeling more than actually observing his example being caught by the other officers.
“Your highness...!!” A distant screaming of modest bureaucratic tone followed him, but the while the attrition had eaten his best strength and the calming light of Stockholm hide behind them a troop of almost equal enemy, Gollevainen gave his troops a wave and sound of fifty thousand horses thundered this soil in way it seldom had in history.
“Your highness!”
The walls of the city were none, and the castle was build for more of diplomatic pose than actual war fighting. But the Prussian army was not there for mere parade and operetta ground use. Not since the rumored coup de'état, no. Prussian army was said to be most modern and effective in the world, even surpassing the French army that put the western Europeans on their knees rather regularly these days...
“Your highneeeeeeeeess!!!”
A musket fired accidentally here, a horse collapsed from exhaustion in these – but for most of the part, the Finnish Cavalry rode with their best pose and the Prussian troops started to form lines in hastily fashion, still disciplined, but the fear gave their eyeballs a bit wider glow...
“Your Hughnes!”
“What? I can't hear you...”
The noise was intoxicating to anyone with tension for power-trips, and men of such importance like Gollevainen was easily seduced by the pure elementary force of charging cavalry army...
“.We....ave..o....eader...”
“Ader? Or Otter? I cant quite hear you....but do me a favor and tell me your naturespotting back in the camp if we ever get there will you...”
“We have no....”
HAKKAAAAAA PÄÄÄÄLLLLEEE!!
The war cry echoed all around the fields and the Prussians rose their glances in uniform as they would have been all heads of single beast waiting for its hunter. Gollevainen felt little moisture on the back of his eyes...But suddenly the Adjutant was rigth next to him, shouting with his face all read and voice hoarse like after a week long hungover
“WE HAVE NO LEADER!!”
Suddenly three things took place in rather fast succession
Firstly Gollevainen swallowed deep and made some pagan rumble...
Seccondly he fielded his both hands wide ajar and made some more pagan rumbling, this time more constructive fashion to the common good.
In meanwhile King Niklas the first, still at Sauna after his rather unsuccsefull attempt to aquire a new Queen to the realm from among the daughters of some Polish merchant had failed, begun to feel himself glooming light and all around the air begun to feel bit light and unobstructive as it use to be...
Thirdly Gollevainen shouted a commonly known ancient Finnish spell for accuiring missing persons: “NIKKE PERKELE...!”
Then the heaven joined the roam of the battle by its own rumble and emphasized its own part by a beam of light casting directly upon an empty horse, used to belong to an adjutant of Riga's Group HQ.
Then King Niklas the First landed from the sky atop that horse looking bit surprised and dazzled, but managing to keep his noble posture and manly fashion in front of his troops that had little bit more difficulty to do so. He even waved a regal little wave to his troops and after firmly settled on the horse-back, being sure that no other paranormal things were due to come, and then gave a long look for Gollevainen.
“You should give me bit warning next time you pull something like this...”
“I know, I'm sorry....”
And so did rode the 1st Bothnic Army of the Finnish Cavalry first time into a battle in the history of the young nation and the Prussian lines were driven away, all men pulled against the walls of the city and slaughtered there upright. It was like the Prussians had decided to ignore such event by best they could and refused to even give good opponent to make the event remarkable. The warmongering hordes of Checks were now 30,000 men poorer. Rome should be grateful of their allies manouvre.
*****
“Isen't that rather nice?”
“What is”
“That our
Rannikkolaivasto also sailed for battle first time due this operation”
“It did?”
“Yeah...”
“I didn't notice that. Did they....mmm...managed to stay afloat and so on...?”
“Yeah, they even won the fierce Battle of Åland.”
“They did? Had the Prussians even ships there?”
“A Ship...”
“I beg your pardon...?”
“Anyway, Isn't it also nice that while we rode not only from Tornio via the Gulf of Bothnia to Sweden, but the same way around back, the Infantry you sent here marched from Turku straight via Åland into Stockholm...”
“They walked on water?”
“Yeah. Isn't amazing?”
“Indeed.”
For reward: Army tradition