Why is Brian so angry with therese again? Is it because of the stress of the spanish campaign and therese assassination attempt while in spain or is it just his frustration with bonaparte boiling over?
La Chanson de la Victoire (The Song of Victory): La Petite Arpenteuse (Non, SV, you are a General of France in the Napoleonic War!)
- Thread starter Plausbius
- Start date
- Mature Alt. History
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
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He's furious at Nappy B, and we're just in the middle of it
Yeah, he seemed more angry at things around us then at us specifically.
Let's hope we can help smooth this over soon, though.
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
Not until the end of the series of updates.
Murat you sly dog.
I'm sure Severin will have his own Comments on that.
I friggin' love the Bromance between these two.
You mean love-hate relationship right?
Eh, honestly, at this point, they are definitely Bros, much as they can barely believe it themselves.
Plus, these two things are not mutually exclusive.
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since the QM said the quest was going to take a slower pace and focus on developing the characters are we going to have even more time for therese to develop the French Empire? From the looks of it we won't have another war until 3-5 years so we can both (hopefully) give more rights to the french people and boost the french economy while also preparing our army for the shitstorm that will be the third coalition.
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
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- California USA
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- He
That is going to depend entirely on Napoleons ambitions.
And that if everyone else.
But you will have a big chance to develop Frances economy as one of its richest citizens
Again entirely possible.
But that also depends on the rolls during the Prefidious situation.
Cyber gave me a list.
It was quite a list.
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Memories of Minden (AvidficReader)
- Location
- Hawaii
Memories of Minden
Matteo Anselme Severin sat on his new favorite chair in a hospital ward in Namur. In years past, this had been the domain of the Hapsburgs, but after decades of war and diplomatic exchanges, now belonged to France. It stood as the headquarters of his most accomplished son and heir's army, and base for forty-thousand of France's best soldiers, among them his old regiment, Touraine Infanterie. Well, it was now known as 33e Ligne, due to some anti-royalist tomfoolery during the Revolution. "Demi-brigades, my arse!" he harrumphed at the silly name. It still meant a regiment in every way that mattered, political meddling at it's murkiest.
"Did you say something grandpere?"
"Ah, just an old soldier's ramblings Jean Therese! Pay it no mind. Grandpere was just thinking about his old unit, since it's part of your papa's Corps. I was considering paying them a visit. In any case, given my, heh, captive audience, I might share some old war stories."
"Yay! Story time!"
"Hey guys, gather 'round, an old soldier is telling a story!"
"Julian, shut your smug mouth, it's not like we can leave."
"Yeah Julian, listen to Captain Falcon. Besides, Grandpere tells the best stories, even when France loses battles. Back in Toulon, he told us about Yorktown and how he met Therese's pop!"
Evelyn, the dear girl, swaddled his infant grandson who bore his name, spoke up to settle the matter.
"Come now, boys, Pops has been telling me his war stories from the Seven Years' War. The last one was about Krefeld, wasn't it? It feels so long ago."
"Right lads and lasses, what with how two of you are laid up from bad choices, let me tell you about a battle with a bunch of bad choices on both sides."
"Oh boy, here we go again."
"So, Evelyn, are you familiar with Britain's Annus Mirabilis of 1759?"
"How could I not, Pops? Might have been before I was born, but that was when Quebec fell and my family was uprooted from their home."
"Aye, for le Bretagne it was a year of triumph on the battlefield, one of the greatest of which was Minden. To set the stage, the army had set out on a campaign and in July a detachment under Duke de Broglie had captured the strategic fortress town of Minden, which like Hamelin, controlled one of the main crossings of the Weser into Hanover. The main army under Marshal Contades arrived at the end of July. Overnight, we broke camp and marched across the Bastau, a broad stream surrounded by wide marshlands. By 5:30 am, the army had mostly formed up in a convex crescent, anchored on the Weser on the right, and the village of Hahlen on the left. The far right flank was the Duke de Broglie's detachment, then the right wing, in which Regiment Touraine held the center right of the first line, brigaded as we were with Regiment D'Aumont-Mazarin. Poor bastards, the name of their regiment changed with their colonels. In any case, due to the limited ground suitable for deployment, the cavalry and artillery were positioned in the center, broad open heath where they were most effective. To make room for their deployment, every infantry brigade was forced to keep one battalion in column formation. Great big targets for artillery and cavalry. Back to the battle: from our position, we could faintly hear cannon fire from our right, which had begun from 5 am. This, I believe, was the first bad decision. The wind blew from west to east that day, and it muffled the sound of guns. If we who we so close could barely hear the cannonade, then the Allied army, much further removed, could not have possibly heard it and moved to reinforce. If the Duke de Broglie had immediately assaulted the enemy position at Todtenhausen, he probably could have overrun it, given he had the Grenadiers de France Brigade, eight full battalions of grenadiers, backed by three brigades of line infantry, three cavalry brigades, and twenty-two cannon. Instead, he bombarded the Hanoverians for the entire battle, some three hours, and allowed the Hanoverian heavy artillery to man their guns and devastate his infantry without engaging their opposite number.
"There was sporadic fighting on the left flank, from what I heard after the battle, around 7 am, a French battery opened fire on a marching column, and the Bretagne artillery unlimbered and silenced it within ten minutes. This is one of the reasons why I caution everyone not to make light of le Bretagne. Their army may be puny in size, but they are skilled gunners and fierce fighters, as they rest of the day's events will show. As the ten-thousand horse of the French army was still forming up in the center in their three lines, the Bretagne infantry, some six battalions, the two Hanoverian Guards and Hardenburg Infantry began their advance on our center in two lines, without waiting for the rest of their army. For some 150 paces, they advanced under heavy cannonade, which was soon knocked out by their own artillery. As the French cavalry charged them down, the first line halted, then held their fire until the horse was some ten meters distant. The deadly volley devastated the first wave, and most who survived turned back. The few that made contact were swiftly dispatched at the point of the bayonet, and the advance continued. God only knows, had the Bretagne cavalry arrived at that point, the army would not have survived the day.
"It was shortly after that first failed cavalry charge that we were ordered into action. Apparently, the Marshal Contades ordered our brigade forward with eight guns to hold a defensive position in and around the Malbergen farmstead in front of the cavalry. As we advanced, I could see a portion of the left wing coming around to flank the right of the Bretagne first line as the second wave of cavalry attempted to charge them down. The Bretagne second line wheeled to stem the infantry attack, and the first line unleashed a murderous volley that reaped a heavy toll on the second wave before the tide of horse crashed into them. It seemed they might waver and break, but they heroically reformed their lines and repelled the second wave with fire and steel. By this point, more Hanoverian infantry battalions were marching to support them, and a heavy artillery battery opened up to support them, but the Bretagne cavalry still failed to materialize. At this point, a third cavalry wave made their attack, attempting to hook around the Bretagne right and smash into their rear. This attack consisted of the cavalry reserves, the elite Gendarmeries de France and the Royal Carabiniers, who had fought and died so valiantly at Krefeld in a last-ditch attempt to turn the tide of battle, broke through the Bretagne line in several places and came around their left flank to charge their rear. The Bretagne third rank was forced to turn around to receive them while the front two ranks tried to hold back the elite cavalry before them. Some might call them bad soldiers, not knowing how to run. I would disagree. The Bretagne line held long enough for supporting battalions to rake the Gendarmeries with fire, alongside the heavy artillery, forcing them the third wave to retire having lost half their strength once again. The French detachment from the left was beaten off by the stiff resistance of the Bretagne second line and their supporting artillery, while to the south of us, a final cavalry brigade formed up for a final charge, but broke under artillery fire before making contact. At this point there was nothing left capable of fighting in the center. Still, the Bretagne cavalry did not appear, for which I thank God above to this day.
"Having already been ordered forward to cover the cavalry, we had now been ordered to attack the Bretagne left alongside Brigade Rouergue, but at this point, the cavalry had been routed. Instead, we were exposed ahead of our lines, and the Allied left collapsed upon us. Four Hessian regiments stormed Malbergen and seized it at the point of the bayonet, but it was the hammer blow of an Allied cavalry brigade and the Hessian Grenadiers turning our flank that drove us from the position. So sharp was the surprise of the flanking action that even General Beaupreau, the commander of our division, was briefly captured by the Allied cavalry, rescued only by a desperate counterattack of Du Roy Cavalry Brigade, which had been held back from the charges on the Bretagne line. Much of Rouergue Brigade was captured in the action, and our retreat from the homestead was anything but orderly. I was one of the last men out of Malbergen, and I nearly tripped over a fallen body on the way out. When I looked down, I saw it was an old private, perhaps a bit younger than I am now. He was bleeding profusely, his hat long gone, six sword slashes adorning his head. In spite of his wounds, he still lived, limbs waving weakly from blood loss. I hefted him about my shoulders and carried him from the field, shouting myself hoarse in a futile attempt to rally the men to some sort of order amongst the din of battle. Only when we made it into musket range of brigades Auvergne and Anhalt did the cavalry pursuit stop. Between the threat of a volley and Duke de Broglie's approaching cavalry, the Allied horse broke off to face their opposite number. La Marche Infanterie, brigaded with Picardie Infanterie, advanced and opened fire on the Prussian dragoons, who turned and charged them down, killing or capturing the battalion in its entirety. By this point, my part of the battle had ended, withdrawing with the multitude of broken units. The battle line was collapsing, and even unengaged units like Duke de Broglie's infantry were withdrawing. Our left wing near Hahlen was falling back, their position untenable in the face of fresh infantry and under fire by Bretagne artillery. The Bretagne cavalry had still not attacked, so pursuit fell to the hard-worked artilery once more. They chased our army to the edge of the marshlands, stopping every so often to pour fire into our retreating columns. Rather than cross the Bastau and head west, we ended up crossing to the east bank of the Weser to make a circuitous retreat to Kassel, as Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick had attacked and cut off our line of retreat during the battle. From what I heard after the battle, it was estimated our army had suffered over seven thousand casualties, while the Allies had taken less than three thousand, mostly among the Bretagne division. Of Regiment Touraine, we were reduced to half strength and removed from the order of battle to recuperate our losses, and we did not become combat effective until the next year's campaigning season."
"Jesus, what a disaster," whispered Evelyn in a horrified awe. She knew how implacable the advance of British and Hessian regulars could be from her own experience in the Virginia Campaign, but to think six battalions of British Regulars and three of Hanoverians could do that much damage and withstand such pressure: Three waves of French cavalry on near ideal ground. "Wait, Pops, you never mentioned anything about them forming squares, you'd never miss something like that!"
"Noticed that, did you? You're right, dear daughter, le Bretagne fought the entire battle in line formation."
"Holy shit!"
"Fuck!"
"Language!"
"Fuck!" All eyes in the room turn to Jean Therese, who looks especially pleased at having learned a new word. "Mama, what does fuck mean?"
"It's not a nice word, don't use it. I'll be washing Captain Fledgling's mouth out with soap in just a minute. It should help him learn to watch what escapes his mouth before bad things happen to him. Again."
"Ha ha, Louis, you're in trouble!"
"And you, my son, are also in trouble for enabling his reckless behavior. While I appreciate that you backed up your best friend and likely saved his life, if not for your squirrely friend Julian, you both would have died. I am... not prepared to lose more family, especially to needlessly reckless violence like a duel that Prince Louis here provoked."
"Teacher, I-"
"Louis, enough. It might sound strange coming from me, but your provocation that lead to the duel being issued was entirely unwarranted."
"But- That man-"
"He got off with a slap on the wrist!"
"That he did, Charlie, at a time when his corps commander has taken a leave of absence, and the army commander, your father, it scrambling to cover said absence. Things inevitable slip through the cracks, but make no mistakes, when your father called me down to look after you, he was furious."
"But when he came to visit, it was so brief, and he didn't say a word! It felt like he didn't care!"
"Charles, Darling is loud when he is happy, but when he is truly angry, outside of battle and his blood is not running hot, he is cold and silent. When a man tried to take me for his own pleasure on the ship from America, your father very nearly strangled him in near silence. I spared that man, but I left him with two broken thumbs, which ended his career as a sailor, as well as stomping on his groin, before turning him over to an officer to dispense justice. When he is angry, Darling becomes rather poor at communication, so trust me, he cares, but he is channeling his rage into being productive, so he doesn't murder that man out of hand."
"Well lads, the moral of the story is that you must always take le Bretagne seriously. Mock them for the tiny size of their army, but never question the quality of their soldiers. They recruit from men who would face imprisonment, or men who volunteer for combat. In this, both cream and scum rise to the top."
Matteo Anselme Severin sat on his new favorite chair in a hospital ward in Namur. In years past, this had been the domain of the Hapsburgs, but after decades of war and diplomatic exchanges, now belonged to France. It stood as the headquarters of his most accomplished son and heir's army, and base for forty-thousand of France's best soldiers, among them his old regiment, Touraine Infanterie. Well, it was now known as 33e Ligne, due to some anti-royalist tomfoolery during the Revolution. "Demi-brigades, my arse!" he harrumphed at the silly name. It still meant a regiment in every way that mattered, political meddling at it's murkiest.
"Did you say something grandpere?"
"Ah, just an old soldier's ramblings Jean Therese! Pay it no mind. Grandpere was just thinking about his old unit, since it's part of your papa's Corps. I was considering paying them a visit. In any case, given my, heh, captive audience, I might share some old war stories."
"Yay! Story time!"
"Hey guys, gather 'round, an old soldier is telling a story!"
"Julian, shut your smug mouth, it's not like we can leave."
"Yeah Julian, listen to Captain Falcon. Besides, Grandpere tells the best stories, even when France loses battles. Back in Toulon, he told us about Yorktown and how he met Therese's pop!"
Evelyn, the dear girl, swaddled his infant grandson who bore his name, spoke up to settle the matter.
"Come now, boys, Pops has been telling me his war stories from the Seven Years' War. The last one was about Krefeld, wasn't it? It feels so long ago."
"Right lads and lasses, what with how two of you are laid up from bad choices, let me tell you about a battle with a bunch of bad choices on both sides."
"Oh boy, here we go again."
"So, Evelyn, are you familiar with Britain's Annus Mirabilis of 1759?"
"How could I not, Pops? Might have been before I was born, but that was when Quebec fell and my family was uprooted from their home."
"Aye, for le Bretagne it was a year of triumph on the battlefield, one of the greatest of which was Minden. To set the stage, the army had set out on a campaign and in July a detachment under Duke de Broglie had captured the strategic fortress town of Minden, which like Hamelin, controlled one of the main crossings of the Weser into Hanover. The main army under Marshal Contades arrived at the end of July. Overnight, we broke camp and marched across the Bastau, a broad stream surrounded by wide marshlands. By 5:30 am, the army had mostly formed up in a convex crescent, anchored on the Weser on the right, and the village of Hahlen on the left. The far right flank was the Duke de Broglie's detachment, then the right wing, in which Regiment Touraine held the center right of the first line, brigaded as we were with Regiment D'Aumont-Mazarin. Poor bastards, the name of their regiment changed with their colonels. In any case, due to the limited ground suitable for deployment, the cavalry and artillery were positioned in the center, broad open heath where they were most effective. To make room for their deployment, every infantry brigade was forced to keep one battalion in column formation. Great big targets for artillery and cavalry. Back to the battle: from our position, we could faintly hear cannon fire from our right, which had begun from 5 am. This, I believe, was the first bad decision. The wind blew from west to east that day, and it muffled the sound of guns. If we who we so close could barely hear the cannonade, then the Allied army, much further removed, could not have possibly heard it and moved to reinforce. If the Duke de Broglie had immediately assaulted the enemy position at Todtenhausen, he probably could have overrun it, given he had the Grenadiers de France Brigade, eight full battalions of grenadiers, backed by three brigades of line infantry, three cavalry brigades, and twenty-two cannon. Instead, he bombarded the Hanoverians for the entire battle, some three hours, and allowed the Hanoverian heavy artillery to man their guns and devastate his infantry without engaging their opposite number.
"There was sporadic fighting on the left flank, from what I heard after the battle, around 7 am, a French battery opened fire on a marching column, and the Bretagne artillery unlimbered and silenced it within ten minutes. This is one of the reasons why I caution everyone not to make light of le Bretagne. Their army may be puny in size, but they are skilled gunners and fierce fighters, as they rest of the day's events will show. As the ten-thousand horse of the French army was still forming up in the center in their three lines, the Bretagne infantry, some six battalions, the two Hanoverian Guards and Hardenburg Infantry began their advance on our center in two lines, without waiting for the rest of their army. For some 150 paces, they advanced under heavy cannonade, which was soon knocked out by their own artillery. As the French cavalry charged them down, the first line halted, then held their fire until the horse was some ten meters distant. The deadly volley devastated the first wave, and most who survived turned back. The few that made contact were swiftly dispatched at the point of the bayonet, and the advance continued. God only knows, had the Bretagne cavalry arrived at that point, the army would not have survived the day.
"It was shortly after that first failed cavalry charge that we were ordered into action. Apparently, the Marshal Contades ordered our brigade forward with eight guns to hold a defensive position in and around the Malbergen farmstead in front of the cavalry. As we advanced, I could see a portion of the left wing coming around to flank the right of the Bretagne first line as the second wave of cavalry attempted to charge them down. The Bretagne second line wheeled to stem the infantry attack, and the first line unleashed a murderous volley that reaped a heavy toll on the second wave before the tide of horse crashed into them. It seemed they might waver and break, but they heroically reformed their lines and repelled the second wave with fire and steel. By this point, more Hanoverian infantry battalions were marching to support them, and a heavy artillery battery opened up to support them, but the Bretagne cavalry still failed to materialize. At this point, a third cavalry wave made their attack, attempting to hook around the Bretagne right and smash into their rear. This attack consisted of the cavalry reserves, the elite Gendarmeries de France and the Royal Carabiniers, who had fought and died so valiantly at Krefeld in a last-ditch attempt to turn the tide of battle, broke through the Bretagne line in several places and came around their left flank to charge their rear. The Bretagne third rank was forced to turn around to receive them while the front two ranks tried to hold back the elite cavalry before them. Some might call them bad soldiers, not knowing how to run. I would disagree. The Bretagne line held long enough for supporting battalions to rake the Gendarmeries with fire, alongside the heavy artillery, forcing them the third wave to retire having lost half their strength once again. The French detachment from the left was beaten off by the stiff resistance of the Bretagne second line and their supporting artillery, while to the south of us, a final cavalry brigade formed up for a final charge, but broke under artillery fire before making contact. At this point there was nothing left capable of fighting in the center. Still, the Bretagne cavalry did not appear, for which I thank God above to this day.
"Having already been ordered forward to cover the cavalry, we had now been ordered to attack the Bretagne left alongside Brigade Rouergue, but at this point, the cavalry had been routed. Instead, we were exposed ahead of our lines, and the Allied left collapsed upon us. Four Hessian regiments stormed Malbergen and seized it at the point of the bayonet, but it was the hammer blow of an Allied cavalry brigade and the Hessian Grenadiers turning our flank that drove us from the position. So sharp was the surprise of the flanking action that even General Beaupreau, the commander of our division, was briefly captured by the Allied cavalry, rescued only by a desperate counterattack of Du Roy Cavalry Brigade, which had been held back from the charges on the Bretagne line. Much of Rouergue Brigade was captured in the action, and our retreat from the homestead was anything but orderly. I was one of the last men out of Malbergen, and I nearly tripped over a fallen body on the way out. When I looked down, I saw it was an old private, perhaps a bit younger than I am now. He was bleeding profusely, his hat long gone, six sword slashes adorning his head. In spite of his wounds, he still lived, limbs waving weakly from blood loss. I hefted him about my shoulders and carried him from the field, shouting myself hoarse in a futile attempt to rally the men to some sort of order amongst the din of battle. Only when we made it into musket range of brigades Auvergne and Anhalt did the cavalry pursuit stop. Between the threat of a volley and Duke de Broglie's approaching cavalry, the Allied horse broke off to face their opposite number. La Marche Infanterie, brigaded with Picardie Infanterie, advanced and opened fire on the Prussian dragoons, who turned and charged them down, killing or capturing the battalion in its entirety. By this point, my part of the battle had ended, withdrawing with the multitude of broken units. The battle line was collapsing, and even unengaged units like Duke de Broglie's infantry were withdrawing. Our left wing near Hahlen was falling back, their position untenable in the face of fresh infantry and under fire by Bretagne artillery. The Bretagne cavalry had still not attacked, so pursuit fell to the hard-worked artilery once more. They chased our army to the edge of the marshlands, stopping every so often to pour fire into our retreating columns. Rather than cross the Bastau and head west, we ended up crossing to the east bank of the Weser to make a circuitous retreat to Kassel, as Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick had attacked and cut off our line of retreat during the battle. From what I heard after the battle, it was estimated our army had suffered over seven thousand casualties, while the Allies had taken less than three thousand, mostly among the Bretagne division. Of Regiment Touraine, we were reduced to half strength and removed from the order of battle to recuperate our losses, and we did not become combat effective until the next year's campaigning season."
"Jesus, what a disaster," whispered Evelyn in a horrified awe. She knew how implacable the advance of British and Hessian regulars could be from her own experience in the Virginia Campaign, but to think six battalions of British Regulars and three of Hanoverians could do that much damage and withstand such pressure: Three waves of French cavalry on near ideal ground. "Wait, Pops, you never mentioned anything about them forming squares, you'd never miss something like that!"
"Noticed that, did you? You're right, dear daughter, le Bretagne fought the entire battle in line formation."
"Holy shit!"
"Fuck!"
"Language!"
"Fuck!" All eyes in the room turn to Jean Therese, who looks especially pleased at having learned a new word. "Mama, what does fuck mean?"
"It's not a nice word, don't use it. I'll be washing Captain Fledgling's mouth out with soap in just a minute. It should help him learn to watch what escapes his mouth before bad things happen to him. Again."
"Ha ha, Louis, you're in trouble!"
"And you, my son, are also in trouble for enabling his reckless behavior. While I appreciate that you backed up your best friend and likely saved his life, if not for your squirrely friend Julian, you both would have died. I am... not prepared to lose more family, especially to needlessly reckless violence like a duel that Prince Louis here provoked."
"Teacher, I-"
"Louis, enough. It might sound strange coming from me, but your provocation that lead to the duel being issued was entirely unwarranted."
"But- That man-"
"He got off with a slap on the wrist!"
"That he did, Charlie, at a time when his corps commander has taken a leave of absence, and the army commander, your father, it scrambling to cover said absence. Things inevitable slip through the cracks, but make no mistakes, when your father called me down to look after you, he was furious."
"But when he came to visit, it was so brief, and he didn't say a word! It felt like he didn't care!"
"Charles, Darling is loud when he is happy, but when he is truly angry, outside of battle and his blood is not running hot, he is cold and silent. When a man tried to take me for his own pleasure on the ship from America, your father very nearly strangled him in near silence. I spared that man, but I left him with two broken thumbs, which ended his career as a sailor, as well as stomping on his groin, before turning him over to an officer to dispense justice. When he is angry, Darling becomes rather poor at communication, so trust me, he cares, but he is channeling his rage into being productive, so he doesn't murder that man out of hand."
"Well lads, the moral of the story is that you must always take le Bretagne seriously. Mock them for the tiny size of their army, but never question the quality of their soldiers. They recruit from men who would face imprisonment, or men who volunteer for combat. In this, both cream and scum rise to the top."
@Magoose I finally got around to doing this (after Ten Thousand Years, I arise from my slumber!), and I tied it in with the recent turn's events. Given the general disdain continental armies tended to hold the British Army with, it felt prudent for Matteo to remind some of the currently serving members of the French Army of why he is utterly respectful of the capabilities of British regulars, which he passed down to his sons. The final line by Matteo is a callback to this omake, where Severin makes mention of Minden and the lesson he learned from that story.
1759 was a charmed year for Britain, every battle they engaged in emerged as a victory, and even inconclusive battles at sea saw the French retire from the field, if not the entire theater. It was also the year in which the keel for HMS Victory was laid (July 23, 1759), which fit the theme of the year.
I mainly drew on this article for the details of the battle, as it is the most detailed I can find without cracking open books that I don't have. It's much better than Wikipedia's anemic article, and includes an order of battle. I've been using this site for all of the Seven Years' War omakes, including articles on the individual regiments, particularly Touraine Infanterie. Compare to the Wikipedia article.
Reports of the battle say that Prince Ferdinand could not hear the cannonade of de Broglie due to the high winds blowing west to east damping the sound. When de Broglie started his bombardment, the defenses he fired upon were largely unmanned, and had he pushed then, the elite Grenadiers de France alone could have likely stormed the defenses. As it was, he gave Wangenheim plenty of time to muster his men and get heavy artillery in place to dominate the artillery exchange.
The French battery at 7 am is put out of action within ten minutes by the actions of the British artillery brigade, which later shuts down the French artillery on the left wing, the attempted flanking attack on von Sporcken's right, and later pursues the retreating French army to the edge of the marshlands that border the Bastau and hammers them with artillery fire. Comparatively, the British cavalry under Lord George Sackville failed to cover themselves in glory. Failed to accomplish much of anything, in spite of 5 messages to attack, and Prince Ferdinand arriving in person, only for the opportunity to destroy the French army to have slipped by. Quite possibly the only thing that prevented the total defeat and destruction of the French at Minden was Sackville's incompetence and inaction. He would request a court martial to defend his honor, but was found unfit to serve the king is any military capacity. He would later become Secretary of State for the Colonies as George Germain... in the 1770s, when Britain alienated the American colonies into revolt. Talk about getting Sacked, amirite?
The Wikipedia article on the Battle of Minden has a letter from a Lieutenant of the 12th Regiment of Foot (labeled Napier on the maps, for it's colonel) describing the intensity of the battle on the far right of the British first line.
The victory, carried as it was by the six British regiments, raised British enthusiasm for the war in Europe, and the following year would see significant reinforcements to the Allied army by British troops. Minus a certain officer, and with a cavalry contingent hungry to avenge its dishonor. The popular tale of the battle is that von Sporcken's attack was due to a miscommunication or misinterpretation of orders, but given the French cavalry was still forming up when he began his attack, it is more likely due to Ferdinand seizing on an opportunity.
For the French it was a humiliation Duc de Choisul, French Chief Minister, wrote "I blush when I speak of our army. I simply cannot get it into my head, much less into my heart, that a pack of Hanoverians could defeat the army of the King".
A certain Marquis de la Fayette was killed by a cannonball at Minden, his son would one day be known as the Hero of Two Worlds.
Precocious child learns a new word. Isn't everyone supposed to be happy that they learned something new?
Some commentary and supposition about the turn events, and why they went so bad. Mostly that Severin was scrambling to keep I Corps in order after Dumas' leave of absence, though he doesn't fault the man for trying to spend time with his family. Between the shakeup in leadership, a new commander who hasn't led anything larger than a brigade, and Louis running his mouth and writing checks his adolescent stature can't cash, Something bad was bound to happen. With as wounded as Louis and Charlie would have been, I figured Julian would have been the one, a bit more distant from the foolishness after his own stunt and being separated from Charlotte while looking after her brother, would have hunted the pair of fools down and dragged them to medical attention. Severin has always been portrayed as happy and jovial, or in battle (still jovial, but running on bloodlust). He's never been depicted as truly angry. Like Spider-Man, Silent Severin is Scary.
1759 was a charmed year for Britain, every battle they engaged in emerged as a victory, and even inconclusive battles at sea saw the French retire from the field, if not the entire theater. It was also the year in which the keel for HMS Victory was laid (July 23, 1759), which fit the theme of the year.
I mainly drew on this article for the details of the battle, as it is the most detailed I can find without cracking open books that I don't have. It's much better than Wikipedia's anemic article, and includes an order of battle. I've been using this site for all of the Seven Years' War omakes, including articles on the individual regiments, particularly Touraine Infanterie. Compare to the Wikipedia article.
Reports of the battle say that Prince Ferdinand could not hear the cannonade of de Broglie due to the high winds blowing west to east damping the sound. When de Broglie started his bombardment, the defenses he fired upon were largely unmanned, and had he pushed then, the elite Grenadiers de France alone could have likely stormed the defenses. As it was, he gave Wangenheim plenty of time to muster his men and get heavy artillery in place to dominate the artillery exchange.
The French battery at 7 am is put out of action within ten minutes by the actions of the British artillery brigade, which later shuts down the French artillery on the left wing, the attempted flanking attack on von Sporcken's right, and later pursues the retreating French army to the edge of the marshlands that border the Bastau and hammers them with artillery fire. Comparatively, the British cavalry under Lord George Sackville failed to cover themselves in glory. Failed to accomplish much of anything, in spite of 5 messages to attack, and Prince Ferdinand arriving in person, only for the opportunity to destroy the French army to have slipped by. Quite possibly the only thing that prevented the total defeat and destruction of the French at Minden was Sackville's incompetence and inaction. He would request a court martial to defend his honor, but was found unfit to serve the king is any military capacity. He would later become Secretary of State for the Colonies as George Germain... in the 1770s, when Britain alienated the American colonies into revolt. Talk about getting Sacked, amirite?
The Wikipedia article on the Battle of Minden has a letter from a Lieutenant of the 12th Regiment of Foot (labeled Napier on the maps, for it's colonel) describing the intensity of the battle on the far right of the British first line.
The victory, carried as it was by the six British regiments, raised British enthusiasm for the war in Europe, and the following year would see significant reinforcements to the Allied army by British troops. Minus a certain officer, and with a cavalry contingent hungry to avenge its dishonor. The popular tale of the battle is that von Sporcken's attack was due to a miscommunication or misinterpretation of orders, but given the French cavalry was still forming up when he began his attack, it is more likely due to Ferdinand seizing on an opportunity.
For the French it was a humiliation Duc de Choisul, French Chief Minister, wrote "I blush when I speak of our army. I simply cannot get it into my head, much less into my heart, that a pack of Hanoverians could defeat the army of the King".
A certain Marquis de la Fayette was killed by a cannonball at Minden, his son would one day be known as the Hero of Two Worlds.
Precocious child learns a new word. Isn't everyone supposed to be happy that they learned something new?
Some commentary and supposition about the turn events, and why they went so bad. Mostly that Severin was scrambling to keep I Corps in order after Dumas' leave of absence, though he doesn't fault the man for trying to spend time with his family. Between the shakeup in leadership, a new commander who hasn't led anything larger than a brigade, and Louis running his mouth and writing checks his adolescent stature can't cash, Something bad was bound to happen. With as wounded as Louis and Charlie would have been, I figured Julian would have been the one, a bit more distant from the foolishness after his own stunt and being separated from Charlotte while looking after her brother, would have hunted the pair of fools down and dragged them to medical attention. Severin has always been portrayed as happy and jovial, or in battle (still jovial, but running on bloodlust). He's never been depicted as truly angry. Like Spider-Man, Silent Severin is Scary.
Read: We actually have competent people in charge. Keep in mind that the main reason England was stronger economically was France's upper class being really incompetent at economic development.
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
Um... Yeah, you're the only competent one.
Everything else is going to have to require teethpulling.
Look, we are roughly in charge. Thats better than OTL!
Is there a reason we skipped the Spanish campaign? Is it because it would have been too tedious to write? It would have been interesting and unique to read (for me at least) but I get that Spain could have gotten repetitive to write since it doesn't really have conventional battles and is just a lot of waiting for Murat and Davout to do stuff. I was just curious, though I'm still happy with how the story is progressing as of this moment.
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
I got myself into a writing corner that I could not get out of, and so, i timeskipped to avoid the quest dying.
Understandable, even with the difficulty of running a big quest like this solo I would like to say you have done a superb job so far, and have faith in how you are handling this quest. Take as much time as you need and looking forward to the next update.
From this option, does that mean our men are war weary from Spain? Since most of France is demobilized right now apart from the Marshals' Corps we don't really need to demobilize since our corps will be mostly at rest either in Paris or another front anyway? Would rather keep the corps as is since I'm assuming we would have to retrain them once war starts again.
So now that Austria is our ally (hopefully we don't become WW1 Germany and get shackled to a corpse), I don't think this outcome is particularly likely due to how Ubersmench we made our army unless Prussia reformed their army better than us (even though they rolled well, I kind of doubt it) and Britain and Russia start get godly rolls. I think this is a nice option to pick next turn or later depending on how we rolled in the perfidious situation, but how fucked does our situation have to get for us to need this to just survive? I think we would need like two or three devastating defeats in crucial campaigns for this to feasibly happen. I kind of just want to pick this option solely to see what's therese and the other generals' plans for such an invasion. Also, If France does get invaded would Dumas and Brian come back from semiretirement (assuming we roll shit with attempting to get Brian back on good terms and he just stays with his wife until such a disaster happens).
Severin: "Oh? You are approaching me?"
- Location
- Hawaii
Speaking of Severin, to be honest I didn't know about this guy when I started writing him totally knew about him and he's absolutely a reference to Albert Severin Roche, acclaimed the First Soldier of France by Field Marshal Ferdinand Foch.
Interlude: The Paris Party of the Change of the Century Part 1
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
Interlude: The Paris Party of the Change of the Century Part 1:
December 31st, 1799
All you could see as you looked through the fogged-up windows towards the city, was the simple and sheer joy going through the city. It was like the energy from a drunken party you've seen before during Christmas in the past, back when the Revolution first began. It was like jubilation that was entirely broken up by just joy.
You didn't really know how to describe the simple factor of a snow-covered city, blanketed with fresh powder, could have such an effect on the party and the celebration that was to come. It was, in your mind, like a story coming to life, a fairytale that did have a happy ending.
But the words that came from your mouth, simple words that should have been filled with the same joy… were filled with discontent and frustration. "We cannot be spending money like this. This march of strength. And for Murat?" You turned back to see Napoleon rocking Alexandre, twirling him around in a joyful, youthful movement. It was as if he did not hear you. "Are you listening to me, Napoleon?"
There was a pause as he stopped twirling your son, and behind his grey eyes, you could see that he was deep in thought, as if he was trying to think of an answer that would satisfy you, but also keep you from protesting. Yet he failed. "I promised to spend a bare minimum on these festivities. Of my own private fortune." He replied, trying his best to keep himself joyful for his overactive son.
How he was still so full of energy after playing in the snow for several hours in the morning with you, his father, and his brother, you would never know.
But his brother Roland was resting on a chair, exhausted, clutching a book in his hand, a book that both of you had been reading for them the previous night. He had grown to like it and had been an ever-demanding child, demanding that you both finish the story, even though he was obviously falling asleep by the time you both returned from the small excursion to the gardens.
"If I look into my account books and find that you have been skimming upon my money, there will be words." You replied with a smile, which caused Napoleon to pale. "This is not an education expense for Roland and Alexandre, and it is most certainly not a 'Family Emergency Expense.'" You folded your arms as you looked at him, cross.
You could see the wheel in his mind turning before Alexandre spoke. "He did it for you."
Napoleon looked down, shocked and betrayed, before he sighed, defeated and capitulating.
"Napoleon, walk with me." You offered an arm and Alexandre was set down, waddling over to his brother as a servant took over.
"It wasn't really a secret," You muttered, as he took your arm and escorted you from the room. "Pierre told me." You replied as the door shut. "Why were you trying to hide it from me? I would have gladly helped if you had only asked."
"Because you have already done enough to help me!" Napoleon raised his voice, surprised that you were bringing all you'd done. But then he shook his head, taking a small, simple breath. A calming one, where he regained control of his senses, and his mind and words. "I was not going to ask the Senate to put up the funds for this ceremony. I didn't want that. I wanted Murat, Davout, and all the others to get the heroic parade they deserve. What you deserve."
You looked down at your husband's face, but he looked away for a moment as if he was feeling guilty. "Deserve... Napoleon, I do not deserve praise for a job you asked me to do. That you trusted me with. Your trust is enough."
Both of you looked away, and for a moment you thought he let go, feeling only air. Instead, however, he stopped you, making you look at him out of curiosity.
He was stopped in front of a portrait. A portrait of himself, though not in any sort of Regalia, just him in an artillery uniform, probably painted when he was promoted to general. When he first could afford one. It was rare to see him like this, with a sliver of doubt in his mind. "I was… thinking, about everything that has happened, since I met you. That my luck, if we could call it that, got me to this position. A position I hold, not only with support but with confidence. I am beloved by my people, hailed as a hero by my subordinates, and a terror to my enemies."
He clicked his teeth and let go of your arm, yet he was now looking at you. "And yet, in the briefest of moments, where my life seems darkest, or at its most incomplete, you are always there. I always think that there is going to be a grand moment, a great uproar, where stories are written about, great love, and great passion. Where poets and historians think so many great nothings, never knowing the truth, and allow their imagination to flow freely, filling in the gaps of what they desire, and not what we have. And yet there is nothing."
He held your hands. "And yet, in those moments, in the nothing that I feel… it is far grander than any story, or romance that any mythology could dream. A constant feeling that makes me feel whole. There is no need for a moment of grandeur and drama." He was now looking at you, his hands holding your own, as your face twitched, before you realized he was trying to reach you, and you bent down just that little bit.
There was a smile that adorned his face, and he gave a small kiss on your cheek. "There is only you."
You found yourself, not feeling red, but feeling a swelling of your heart, as you could only smile back at him. "Only a wholeness that you make me feel."
"Thank you." You replied as you kissed him.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Severin was at the front of the Palace, his Marshals baton in his hand, being twirled with little care for his own safety, as the ax head went close to his head, yet he was always in control. "Ah, there are the lovebirds. Finally leaving the nest to come back to the rest of us, plebeians?"
That earned a laugh from Napoleon. "Did you learn that word from Davout or Murat?" He asked with a smile, as he let go, as Marshal Baguette bowed his head to both of you. "And do you know what it even means?
There was a chuckle. "Dumas. He's quite talented at writing, his reports are never boring, unlike a certain subordinate I have." He replied with a smile before the baton went falling right into his holster as if he knew exactly where it was, at all times, and he needed to be ready to do what he needed to do. "And No, I do not know what it means, but it makes me feel important if I say it."
"It means commoner." Napoleon replied, bluntly.
"So it was a compliment for an up-jumped Sargent like me!" Severin smiled and laughed, before he became uncharacteristically serious... or rather serious when it is not a battlefield. "The Parade route has been cleaned, the men of the Corps are ready to depart, and the parade route has been cleaned and ready for this march."
"You made Severin the Master of Ceremonies and the Parade Master?!" You asked as Severin smiled, losing his serious face, laughing all the while as you turned to Napoleon.
"I couldn't make Murat do it, he wanted to plan the wedding and to make sure his special part of the day was not ruined," Napoleon replied as if he had been dreading saying anything since he approved of it. "And I couldn't rope Davout into doing it because his wife would not allow him to do it. She is worse than him when it comes to the Iron will of her husband."
At that moment, you blabbered. "What about Kellerman? Chamans?" You asked as you began thinking of the other general and staff officers that were in Paris that could organize a parade of this size. "Anyone but Severin?"
"They all politely declined," Napoleon replied as you saw Severin smile.
That Gremlin. He knew what he did, even if you didn't know precisely what he did. But you knew he did something to the rest of the men to keep them from volunteering.
"Well we have one more matter to attend to Napoleon." the casual way that Severn spoke to the most powerful man in France, earned him a look, but at this moment in time, Severin was well within his right to capture attention. And you were right beside him, he knew he could get away with it without any fear of repercussion. "Is the Empress going to be riding in the parade?"
What do you do?:
[]Yes: I will ride in the Parade!
[]No: I do not think that will be a good idea.
AN:
So... I decided to do the Parade first because the Wedding got away from me.
Edit:
I spent a lot of time planning about editing this into the post for stuff, but I forgot to put this:
I wanted to spend this set of updates detailing three things:
1. The Marriage and relationship between Napoleon and Thérèse, show just how different it is between his real-life marriages, thanks to all the events that we've both influenced changed things.
2. Murat and Carolinas' wedding, and showing Murats own changing views, and how he views himself in the evergrowing dynamic between himself, Napoleon, and Thérèse, as well as how his friendship with Severin changed him.
3. Well, this one is a secret.
December 31st, 1799
All you could see as you looked through the fogged-up windows towards the city, was the simple and sheer joy going through the city. It was like the energy from a drunken party you've seen before during Christmas in the past, back when the Revolution first began. It was like jubilation that was entirely broken up by just joy.
You didn't really know how to describe the simple factor of a snow-covered city, blanketed with fresh powder, could have such an effect on the party and the celebration that was to come. It was, in your mind, like a story coming to life, a fairytale that did have a happy ending.
But the words that came from your mouth, simple words that should have been filled with the same joy… were filled with discontent and frustration. "We cannot be spending money like this. This march of strength. And for Murat?" You turned back to see Napoleon rocking Alexandre, twirling him around in a joyful, youthful movement. It was as if he did not hear you. "Are you listening to me, Napoleon?"
There was a pause as he stopped twirling your son, and behind his grey eyes, you could see that he was deep in thought, as if he was trying to think of an answer that would satisfy you, but also keep you from protesting. Yet he failed. "I promised to spend a bare minimum on these festivities. Of my own private fortune." He replied, trying his best to keep himself joyful for his overactive son.
How he was still so full of energy after playing in the snow for several hours in the morning with you, his father, and his brother, you would never know.
But his brother Roland was resting on a chair, exhausted, clutching a book in his hand, a book that both of you had been reading for them the previous night. He had grown to like it and had been an ever-demanding child, demanding that you both finish the story, even though he was obviously falling asleep by the time you both returned from the small excursion to the gardens.
"If I look into my account books and find that you have been skimming upon my money, there will be words." You replied with a smile, which caused Napoleon to pale. "This is not an education expense for Roland and Alexandre, and it is most certainly not a 'Family Emergency Expense.'" You folded your arms as you looked at him, cross.
You could see the wheel in his mind turning before Alexandre spoke. "He did it for you."
Napoleon looked down, shocked and betrayed, before he sighed, defeated and capitulating.
"Napoleon, walk with me." You offered an arm and Alexandre was set down, waddling over to his brother as a servant took over.
"It wasn't really a secret," You muttered, as he took your arm and escorted you from the room. "Pierre told me." You replied as the door shut. "Why were you trying to hide it from me? I would have gladly helped if you had only asked."
"Because you have already done enough to help me!" Napoleon raised his voice, surprised that you were bringing all you'd done. But then he shook his head, taking a small, simple breath. A calming one, where he regained control of his senses, and his mind and words. "I was not going to ask the Senate to put up the funds for this ceremony. I didn't want that. I wanted Murat, Davout, and all the others to get the heroic parade they deserve. What you deserve."
You looked down at your husband's face, but he looked away for a moment as if he was feeling guilty. "Deserve... Napoleon, I do not deserve praise for a job you asked me to do. That you trusted me with. Your trust is enough."
Both of you looked away, and for a moment you thought he let go, feeling only air. Instead, however, he stopped you, making you look at him out of curiosity.
He was stopped in front of a portrait. A portrait of himself, though not in any sort of Regalia, just him in an artillery uniform, probably painted when he was promoted to general. When he first could afford one. It was rare to see him like this, with a sliver of doubt in his mind. "I was… thinking, about everything that has happened, since I met you. That my luck, if we could call it that, got me to this position. A position I hold, not only with support but with confidence. I am beloved by my people, hailed as a hero by my subordinates, and a terror to my enemies."
He clicked his teeth and let go of your arm, yet he was now looking at you. "And yet, in the briefest of moments, where my life seems darkest, or at its most incomplete, you are always there. I always think that there is going to be a grand moment, a great uproar, where stories are written about, great love, and great passion. Where poets and historians think so many great nothings, never knowing the truth, and allow their imagination to flow freely, filling in the gaps of what they desire, and not what we have. And yet there is nothing."
He held your hands. "And yet, in those moments, in the nothing that I feel… it is far grander than any story, or romance that any mythology could dream. A constant feeling that makes me feel whole. There is no need for a moment of grandeur and drama." He was now looking at you, his hands holding your own, as your face twitched, before you realized he was trying to reach you, and you bent down just that little bit.
There was a smile that adorned his face, and he gave a small kiss on your cheek. "There is only you."
You found yourself, not feeling red, but feeling a swelling of your heart, as you could only smile back at him. "Only a wholeness that you make me feel."
"Thank you." You replied as you kissed him.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Severin was at the front of the Palace, his Marshals baton in his hand, being twirled with little care for his own safety, as the ax head went close to his head, yet he was always in control. "Ah, there are the lovebirds. Finally leaving the nest to come back to the rest of us, plebeians?"
That earned a laugh from Napoleon. "Did you learn that word from Davout or Murat?" He asked with a smile, as he let go, as Marshal Baguette bowed his head to both of you. "And do you know what it even means?
There was a chuckle. "Dumas. He's quite talented at writing, his reports are never boring, unlike a certain subordinate I have." He replied with a smile before the baton went falling right into his holster as if he knew exactly where it was, at all times, and he needed to be ready to do what he needed to do. "And No, I do not know what it means, but it makes me feel important if I say it."
"It means commoner." Napoleon replied, bluntly.
"So it was a compliment for an up-jumped Sargent like me!" Severin smiled and laughed, before he became uncharacteristically serious... or rather serious when it is not a battlefield. "The Parade route has been cleaned, the men of the Corps are ready to depart, and the parade route has been cleaned and ready for this march."
"You made Severin the Master of Ceremonies and the Parade Master?!" You asked as Severin smiled, losing his serious face, laughing all the while as you turned to Napoleon.
"I couldn't make Murat do it, he wanted to plan the wedding and to make sure his special part of the day was not ruined," Napoleon replied as if he had been dreading saying anything since he approved of it. "And I couldn't rope Davout into doing it because his wife would not allow him to do it. She is worse than him when it comes to the Iron will of her husband."
At that moment, you blabbered. "What about Kellerman? Chamans?" You asked as you began thinking of the other general and staff officers that were in Paris that could organize a parade of this size. "Anyone but Severin?"
"They all politely declined," Napoleon replied as you saw Severin smile.
That Gremlin. He knew what he did, even if you didn't know precisely what he did. But you knew he did something to the rest of the men to keep them from volunteering.
"Well we have one more matter to attend to Napoleon." the casual way that Severn spoke to the most powerful man in France, earned him a look, but at this moment in time, Severin was well within his right to capture attention. And you were right beside him, he knew he could get away with it without any fear of repercussion. "Is the Empress going to be riding in the parade?"
What do you do?:
[]Yes: I will ride in the Parade!
[]No: I do not think that will be a good idea.
AN:
So... I decided to do the Parade first because the Wedding got away from me.
Edit:
I spent a lot of time planning about editing this into the post for stuff, but I forgot to put this:
I wanted to spend this set of updates detailing three things:
1. The Marriage and relationship between Napoleon and Thérèse, show just how different it is between his real-life marriages, thanks to all the events that we've both influenced changed things.
2. Murat and Carolinas' wedding, and showing Murats own changing views, and how he views himself in the evergrowing dynamic between himself, Napoleon, and Thérèse, as well as how his friendship with Severin changed him.
3. Well, this one is a secret.
Last edited:
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[x]Yes: I will ride in the Parade!
We ain't no pansy
We ain't no pansy
- Location
- Virginia
[x]Yes: I will ride in the Parade!
[x]Yes: I will ride in the Parade!