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    Real Strategy Requires Cunning

TreizeV

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Vive L'Empereur! Glory of the Eagles!

charge-l.jpg

(LA CHARGE! (Brigadier General de Donop, Battle of Waterloo 1815 AD) by Churms: Possibly my favourite painting of the Napoleonic wars

Hey ya'll for those of you who read in my Pax Britainnica thread that I planned a surpise as we got near 1800. I couldn't wait to reveal it so this is it! Instead of following the paths of the british ala Richard Sharpe and existing AARs written from the British perspective (like LD's for instance), im gonna attempt to do this from a French Perspective (continued from my game as Pax Britainnica)

Of course since this is a sequel to Pax Britainnica look forward to some returning characters in this story ;) but ill try a new style of writing.

I know that some may find novel AARs boring, but i think that they are one of the best ways of really bringing the EU experience to life ;) in any case enjoy!

dhm275_small.jpg


"To my mind, the only immortality is the memory we leave in the minds of men. Everything on Earth is soon forgotten except the opinion we leave imprinted in history."
-Napoleon Bonaparte


Table of Contents
Chapter 1: The Great Revolution (starts on this page)
Chapter 2: The Little Corporal
Chapter 3: Into the Land of the Pharoahs
Chapter 4: Talons of the Eagle: The wars of Empire
Chapter 5: Iberia : The Lion and the Eagle
 
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Machiavellian

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The French?! Well, at least you choose an interesting time period to play them. Napoleon and all.

So you are playing up to 1800 in the Pax Britannica game and then switching control from the British to the French?
 

TreizeV

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I'm going to be starting in 1789 and yes ill switch control to france ;)
 

Machiavellian

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I am also curious as to how the style of play of Great Britian will change when you give it over to the AI.
 

TreizeV

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Just because i made ONE french drug crazed guy doesnt mean they're all druggies ;)

Anyways look forward to the last post in Britain's thread soon :p
 
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About time we had another Napoleon AAR. :)
 

TreizeV

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Prologue: Somewhere in Spain (1810)

xdhm1099.jpg


It was a dark night on the Spanish countryside. The quiet and friendly countryside was shrouded in a thick mist, while the howls of wolves can be heard from miles away. A light wind hushed from the east, gently blowing waves in the sea of grass. The countryside was dominated by small hills, one of these hills was home to a large Monastery and the ruins of a village, which found it's roots back to the days of the Moors.

The field was known as El Campo de Lágrimas (the field of tears), where centuries ago, the moors beat the christians back to that very spot on the hill and slaughtered every inhabitant in the town after a month's siege. The moors however, left the monastery standing, as the local priest gave everything he had away to bribe the invaders off to another village.

A robbed figure stood at the door of the Monastery, while two horsemen approached him. The wind was howling more than ever, lifting the clouds to reveal a full moon. An eery light now iluminated the field and men. A spanish regiment awaited at the foot of the hill while the men talked.....

"You are El cruzado?" The Spanish officer spoke. The wind howling more than ever, as the officer struggled to keep his great coat from being blonw away.

"Yes my son. I have urgent news for General Carlos." The robbed priest handed out the scribbled message to the Captain, who saluted the priest. "Please give this to him with my compliments."

The Spanish officer nodded, taking the note and stuffing it in his pocket. "We will do our duty holy father."

"Then I wish you safe passage my son." The priest bowed. The spanish then prepared to get out of the valley.

But then the ground shook, as a roar of thunder appeared from the east.

They were the dragons, the finest horsemen in all of Europe. By the dozens they had advanced over the hills. They had conquered battlefields from France to Egypt, and now they were heading for spain.

"Run!" El Cruzado yelled, and the Spanish captain and lieutenant ran back to their regiment. The colonel already waving his sword and ordering the men into square.

The spanish in their brightly coloured uniforms formed square clumsily, taking three times longer than necessary, but they were in the safe formation by the time two thousand cavalry were upon them. The Colonel, knowing his men could not march and keep their formation intact, hoped the french would have a parley, so that he could negotiate a way out of the cursed valley. Although he was nervous, he knew that the infantry could not touch the cavalry, and the cavalry could not attack the infantry while in square.

He was wrong.

The Dragoon leader, a Colonel, raised his sword in salute, and to the Spanish Colonel's horror, formed his men into a column and started charging.

"Fix bayonets!" The colonel ordered, while the Dragoon Colonel galloped forward with greater speed.

"A Cremaillere!" The French Colonel yelled, and immediately the dragoons formed enchelon and the column now aimed itself towards the corner of the spanish square.

"Fire!" The Spanish Colonel called out in his quivering voice, and suddenly hundreds of muskets fired at the approaching cavalry.

The Spanish colonel however, judged wrong as the distance between the square and cavalry was 250 yards, meaning that a potentially deadly volley was thrown away. The French colonel smiled.

The Dragoons crashed violently into the corner of the spanish square, men screamed and cried as they were trampled under the hooves of hundreds of horse. The spanish who tried to bayonet the horses were met with a flash of sabres in the moonlight, and more blood was spilt on the battlefield of tears.

The spaniards threw down their muskets, raising their hands in the air to surrender, while the french cavalry went inside the square, to watch for any men willing to resist.

The French colonel then trotted off to the monastery, where the priest observed the entire five minute battle.

"How is the evening air holy father?" The Colonel asked. The blond Frenchman was of average size, but the colt he trotted on was huge, like English horses, and he towered over the priest.

"May god have mercy on your Perfidious soul, My son." The priest said calmly, yet firmly.

The Frenchman laughed. "I'd figure as much father. My name is Colonel Renes."

"Am i your prisoner now? Colonel Renes?" The priest held his hands up as he scoffed.

The Colonel shook his head.

"It is not the army's business to arrest holy fathers, especially Catholic ones. Do not worry, i shall leave you inviolate." The Colonel smiled, tipped his hat, then turned his horse around to trot back to the spanish

"You are making a mistake." El Cruzado sneered as the colonel had his back turned.

"Am i?" Renes said. "Perhaps i am letting you go because your role in this war is already done father." The colonel smiled. Then trotted back to his lines.

The priest stood by, watching in amazement, as huge columns of french wagons, infantry and artillery passed by the monastery and village. For a full five hours, the army of france was marching past the church, and the holy father could do little but sit and watch.

The invasion of Spain had begun.

Chapter 1 : The Reign of terror
 
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TreizeV

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Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Great Revolution

"I fear a revolt caused by lack of bread more than a major battle"
-Napoleon

The Bastille's Fall: July 14, 1789​

bastille.jpg


Seventeen year old Andre Renes did not know why he wanted to become a soldier. A man from a poor family in Provence, he knew that soldiering was the low profession of society. Well off families would sooner see their son "Dead" than "gone for a soldier." Yet La Debine (poverty) was enough to drive many into the arms of the army.

In the Renes family, Andre had only one brother. A tall handsome man named Jean, who joined the army as a private, and now he was a Caporal. He would fill andre, the young seventeen year old brother, with stories of war in Corsica, india and Italy. But despite all these adventures, Jean always reminded Andre never to become a soldier, for it was filled with misery, death and hunger. But Andre was never a good listener, he would always gaze into the warm mediteranean sea, wondering what adventures he could go on as a soldier. When Jean left Provence to fight the italian war with Savoy, Andre would practice musketry with sticks and clubs, unbeknownst to his brother.

But that was not why Andrew Renes came to Paris. He came to paris seeking food and work. For the family home in provence was starving. Indeed, all of France was starving. The king's incompetent policies have driven a stake into the lives of many frenchmen. A french peasant was lucky to get any meat at all, while others ate rotten vegetables off the ground, since they couldn't afford anything. Inflation was sky high in france (60% !!! stupid AI) and the royal family spent all their money on foolishness. The king, Louis XVI, was a fat lazy man, who constantly belched. His favourite pasttime was hunting, and grabbing pebbles with his toes, flicking them at anyone who came within range. The queen too, was Marie-Antoinette, also known as the "austrian witch." In one month alone she bought out every single diamond dealer in paris, along with several hundred riding dresses. ordinary frenchmen had no privileges like the few thousand men who ruled over a country of twenty five million. Taxes were made, wars declared without their consent, while anyone who displeased the king was imprisioned by his lettre de cachet. A letter which allowed the king to imprision anyone as long as he wanted, where ever he wanted.

Since the countryside was scarce in food, Andre wandered down the streets of paris, hoping that at least the city itself would be bountiful in food. He was wrong.

Everywhere, there were beggars; the unemployed and diseased walk through the streets, as if all of the world's vermin gathered in Paris. The city itself was like a city from the middle ages, there was no sanitation, no sewage, and the buildings decayed from the passage of time. Men were miserable, hungry and angry, and it was not long before Andre noticed that something big was happening.

It began with a few shouts, and men ran past Andre, holding muskets. Burly men in blue uniform, shouting "long live france! Death to the king!". Soon more onlookers followed the soldiers and eventually a mob gathered in front of Andre and he saw in front of him a truly impressive site.

Dominating paris was the Bastille, a grim fortress which served as a state prison, was located at the east end of the city of Paris (Gershoy 17). The Bastille was despised as a symbol of despotism, and also because of the many stories that circulated about its use for torture and other cruelties. The walls were ten feet thick, and the towers were over ninety feet high. It was a symbol of Royal oppression and now, it was burning. Stacks of smoke filtered out of the man windows of the bastile, and a large crowd was gathering below it, storming it! Andre could see through the smoke that fighting was going on.

Gathering his courage, the young blond man ran towards the violence, and soon, a huge explosion erupted in the crowd, and a splurt of blood appeared in the air. Somone had fired a cannon.

The explosion did nothing but aggravate the crowd even more, and now they attacked the helpless loyalist soldiers. Men attacked with clubs, pitchforks, muskets. While women used rolling pins and kitchen utensils. The soldiers fired a ragged volley, then ran for their lives as the huge mob broke ranks and chased the bewildered soldiers into the bastille.

The Commander of the bastille, Marquis de Launay, would not surrender however, and he planned to blow up the bastille in determined resistance. The blue coated men however, were aware of this and soon, the fleur de lis came down from the fortress, with a white flag in its place.

Andre watched with amazement as the men outside started to cheer. "Vive La France! Vive La Patrie!". The young Frenchman barely had time to notice that a new trophy was being displayed by the victorious citizens. The unfortunate Marquis De Launay had his throat cut on the steps of the Hotel de Ville and his head was carried around the streets of Paris.

Andre, caught up in the moment, suddenly realized why he came to paris for, the young man immediately went to the nearest blacksmith shop, looking for work. He jogged down the street, gleeming with joy as he shouted. "The bastille has fallen! The Bastille has fallen!"

It had begun.

***
Two weeks later..... In Vendee

A regiment of French soldiers had recently arrived in the town, the king was aware of the anti-royalist feelings among the Vendee peasants. And seeking a remedy, a contingent of troops and artillery was assigned to keep the peace. The cities of vendee were unusually calm this time of year, a surprise indeed, given the news of the fall of the bastille.

Louis XVI attempted to calm the mood of the people, by giving in to some concessions, but the people's lust for freedom was insatiable, and sure enough, the whole round was starting again. Unrest came all over france, the previous winter had deprived much of France of food, while the prices skyrocketed along with inflation.

The two french officers watched nervously as a crowd gathered in the town square, outside their tavern, which was where the current officers were biovaucked.

"I am not so sure about this assignment sir." A corporal said nervously, his hand shaking on the table as more and more passerbyers noticed the men in uniform. A crowd was forming outside.

"As far as i'm concerned, they can choke on their anger, taking it out on us won't do anything to change the situation." The Captain drank his cup of beer.

"How about you sir?" The corporal peered into the corner, where a second lieutenant was reading a book.

The man did not reply, he calmy flipped the page over, engrossed in the articles he read.

"He is known as the devourer of books back in the old academy at Brienne." Captain Eugene laughed as he watched the second lieutenant stop reading his book.

"I'm glad you are taking the time to talk to us lieutenant." Eugene smiled.

"I was just catching up on my reading sir." The man was not a very impressive figure, yet his gray eyes revealed some things that neither of the men could see in him, a talent and curious nature hidden within.

"A famous book by Father J. J. M. Amiot," The man went on. "I find it quite the rividing read, I may write to the minister of war to request that he publish this to our generals."

Both officers laughed. "Surely you do not jest monsieur? Who would take the time to read such a long book."

The man shrugged. Then sat down to enjoy the beer.

"How long do you think we will stay in this hell hole?" The Corporal drank another sip of beer, only to have Captain Eugene reprimand him.

"As long as we have to corporal, since when did corporals questioned orders?"

"never sir." The man sipped.

Eugene then turned back to the young lieutenant. "I hear that you are new in these parts. Perhaps you can profit from his example and learn when to shut up." The captain was not too optimistic about having more new people with his company. Yet the man didn't complain nor say a word.

Suddenly the mob outside began throwing rocks through the window, torches and pitchforks were in the air as shouting emerged from the crowd. "Death to the traitors! Long Live france!"

"Dammit!" Eugene swore as a musket narrowly missed him, making this more deadly than just a mere protest. The crowd, fired up by the boldness of the shooter, decided to take an extra step, they crashed through the windows and doors and ran towards the three men.

"Out the back! Organize the troop!" Eugene yelled as they flipped a table, a knife was thrown at the officers, and it stuck to the table top.

The three men managed to pull themselves out of the bar, where, to the relief of the captain, a three hundred man force was waiting there for orders.

aug10_1792.jpg

The streets were in chaos, wagons were overturned, while small fires were lit throughout the area. Soldiers lay on the ground, dead and wounded.

"Form line! Form line!" THe captain yelled, running in the rear, the second lieutenant watched as the mob turned to face the company of troop, having destroyed the bar and catching the officers in the upper floors.

It was a hostage situation now, both sides square off in the plaza grounds, while officers, dragged out of their beds, were displayed in front of the crowd. Daring the men to shoot them. Insults and curses were yelled at the troops, who stood still,
even when rotten vegetables were thrown at them.

"Damn. We may have to fire." The Captain spat, as the crowd got closer.

Then the second lieutenant calmly walked in between the two groups. The mob stopped, and the soldiers lowered their muskets. The lieutenant held out his hands, signifying that he was unarmed. Many soldiers thought he would plead the crowd to remember their loyalty to the king, but they had little confidence in that. They quickly fixed bayonets.

"Citizens of Vendee! We have come here to shoot the Riffraff who have caused this cowardly and fiendish disturbance."

The crowd stopped cold, some men nudged. The man's voice projected throughout the street.

"However, before we begin, i do not want the respectable citizens of the town to be in the crossfire. So i ask that the respectable citizens return to their homes so that we may commence shooting the riff raff."

The mob nudged more, and an eery silence ensued. The soldiers were quiet, nervous at the fight that was about to break out, while the mob stared at the lieutenant, who was clearly calm and not even flinching.

Then slowly, by ones, twos and fours, the crowd dispersed. Men returning to their homes because none of them thought themselves as riff raff!

"Well what are you waiting for? Help them!" The lieutenant yelled, gesturing at the officers on the ground who were gagged and tied up, much to their indignity.

"I don't know how you did it Lieutenant, but i will make you a captain for this act!" The colonel thanked him graciously for saving his life.

Captain Napoleon Bonaparte smiled, and waved his cocked hat off to the dispersing citizens of Vendee.

Reason had won, for now.........
 
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TreizeV

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Europe.JPG

France and Europe 1789
 

kurtbrian

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very very nice! :)
 

nalivayko

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Nice start, let's see how far you can spread the blue color on the map :)
 

unmerged(15337)

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MEMO TO BRITISH HIGH COMMAND

Lord Cornwallis, Duke Wellington, or even the King himself, I don't care -- whoever's in charge over there, I have an urgent tip for you. My duties took me to Vendee recently in order to observe the impact of the French uprising outside of Paris itself. People are angry, the soldiers are nervous, all the things that make a rebellion so exciting and fun. But that's not what I'm writing about.

There is a young French officer you need to watch out for. I know, he is just a Captain, and newly promoted at that, but my instincts tell me this guy is nothing but trouble, and I mean TROUBLE. His name is Bonaparte, and he just has a certain flair and charisma -- trust me on this one, you'll be much better off if you can find a way to get rid of him quietly. Just send agent 004 or 005 out here quickly for a "liquid affair" and no one will be the wiser.

Trust me on this one. You know my instincts are always right on the money.

Your loyal agent, 047.


(TreizeV, I hope you don't mind. I couldn't resist. I'll delete it if you don't want it.)
 

Machiavellian

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And so it begins. The next book. Very nice start to it. I was hoping that the map would be more surprising, personally, though the rather large Brandenburg Prussia is somewhat Interesting. Savoy seems to have done well for itself as well.