La Chanson de la Victoire (The Song of Victory): La Petite Arpenteuse (Non, SV, you are a General of France in the Napoleonic War!)

Assaut Amphibie, Part 4


With the surrender of King Ferdinand and the Garrison, things began to calm down in the City of Palermo.

Officers and Sergeants began to herd their Soldiers back in line, in some cases even arresting them and returning their stolen loot to the Families it had been taken from. They didn't get nearly everything, of course: And Soldier with some brain knew to hide their ill-gotten gains somewhere save and retrieve them later.

Alexandre was no exception. The older man had found quite a few valuables in some abandoned homes, mostly because he knew from experience where to look for hidden stuff and how to get away with stealing it. Even now, a nice little stash of gold and coins where hidden in a barrel in an unassuming alleyway, just waiting for him to come back and get it once things had calmed down.

Of course, he had been careful not to take TOO much. Quite a few of those who were arrested had stuffed their pockets so full that there was no way to hide their loot from the Officers. Those were always the first ones caught, all the hard fighting they had done to get their stuff for nothing.

And a fight it had certainly been, though not the hardest in his life.

The Caporal sat down on the lowest step of a flight of stairs in the city, resting his legs a bit. As he looked around the city, he was frankly amazed how little damage it had suffered. Being taken by an enemy army in an assault usually meant sacking, burning and pillaging while the frightened population could do nothing but cower or beg for mercy...not that they were granted it often. But so far, the Army of the Orient had shown remarkable restraint. Oh sure, there had been plenty of looting, but he had yet to see a single civilian being shot or stabbed to death by rampaging Soldiers.

Maybe it had to do with how little casualties they suffered. Usually, storming a city came with thousands of the attackers dying. And after you finally breached the walls, staggering over the torn up, lifeless corpses of your comrades and friends, drenched in their blood and the rush of battle flowing through your veins...

Well...all that could drive a man to do horrible things. He had seen it often enough in war. All restraints were lost and an Army descended into an Orgy of violence.

Still...no such orgy was occurring here. Even most of the looting he had seen had happened in an almost civilized manner, for lack of a better term. Just storming in, grabbing the valuables and back out, with barely even a glance at the frightened inhabitants.

Of course, just because he hadn't seen it doesn't mean it didn't happen at all. Far from it. Still...

His thoughts were interrupted as he saw three young Soldiers walk down the street. Well, well...if it weren't Jean, Alphonse and Phillipe.

The aging Caporal couldn't help but smile. Maybe it was foolish sentimentality, but he had grown to like these three Youngsters ever since they had come to serve in the same company as his own. Maybe it was because they reminded him of himself and his comrades at their age. Young men, trying to find a place in the army that they had joined for various reasons.

Alexandre thought back to his first campaign, as he had sailed under the Comte de Rocheambeau to the New World to help the Americans kick the British out of their Colonies. He had been an Orphan, the son of a Whore, joining the Army to find a way out of the gutters of Lyon. And he had found his place in the army. He was good at being a Soldier and quite adept at filling out the duties of a Caporal. And the Americas had been good to him. He had found friends there, both in the French Army and in some of the Soldiers under Washington, those who actually spoke French at least. If he was honest, these Americans had impressed him, both with their bravery and their determination to win their fight for Freedom.

Freedom..., he thought. Somehow, that word, which he had heard so often in the New World, had stuck with him all these years. Perhaps that was why he had been so quick to embrace the Revolution.

Shaking his head, he looked at the three young Soldiers, who had spotted him and walked up to greet him. He couldn't help himself, but they really did remind him of his own friends he had made back in the day.

A pang of sadness shook his soul. None of those friends remained now. Some had died, from sickness or wounds. Others had been crippled, sent off to live a wretched life as beggars in the gutters of the Cities. Others had stayed in America and he had never heard from them again.

He wondered if they and their Republic were doing well now. Better then their own anyway...

"Hey there, lads", he said as he stood up. "I see you all still live. Good."

Jean chuckled. "We're not dying that easily, Caporale. Not even Alphonse. Hell, he killed some Italian Bugger much bigger then he all by himself!"

"Did he now? Well, good Job then, boy."

Alphonse smiled weakly. He didn't seem all that proud of the act itself, but he also seemed to like the praise of his friends. "T-thank you, Sir", he mumbled.

"And where have you been the last few hours hm? Not...looting, I hope?", Alexandre asked playfully.

Philippe snorted. "Of course we were. Just like you. Don't even try to pretend you weren't."

Alexandre laughed. "Well shit, you got me. Congrats on not getting caught, anyway."

Jean smirked. "If anything, we caught a few others."

The Caporal raised an eyebrow.

"Some Bastards tried to rape a Woman", Phillipe said, his face twisting in anger. "I killed the Fuckers and saved the Girl."

"I see", Alexandre said with a nod.

He put a hand on Philippe's shoulder. "Well done, Lad. None of us are Saints, but there's some things a man just shouldn't tolerate. Assholes who force themselves on a Woman are one of those."

"Plus, I'm sure Maria won't mind seeing him again now", Jean said with a grin.

"Oh shut up!", Philippe growled irritated. "That's not why I did it!"

Jean raised his hands. "Of course not, of course not. I know why you did it. But I also know you. And you wouldn't mind being able to see her again later."

With a huff, Philippe looked away. But Alexandre could see the slight red that tinged his cheeks, even under the beard.

Alexandre couldn't help but chuckle at their Antics. Scenes like this reminded him why he had stuck with the army, even after all these years.

His life would probably end like those of many of his friends. A cripple begging on the street or a corpse on the battlefield, maybe even bleeding out or wasting away from a disease in a Military Hospital. But as long as he got to experience this kind of camaraderie with his fellow Soldiers, in a world where People who gave a damn about you were a fucking rarity, it was worth the risk.


A.N.: The REAL final Part of my Assaut Amphibie-Series. Stay tuned for the next Series of Omakes: 'Dans les rues de Palerme'.

Dans les rues de Palerme, Part 1


The City of Palermo was...normal. As strange as that sounded.

After all, a foreign Army had, mere days ago, captured it in an Assault, toppled the King, banished him and his Court back to Mainland Italy AND installed a new Government.

And still, despite all that...the People went on with their lives. The homes that were damaged in the initial looting were repaired, Craftsmen and Innkeepers resumed their Businesses and most People tried to act as if nothing happened, all the while not even seeming to notice the French Soldiers frequently patrolling the Streets.

Hell, more and more the People of Palermo seemed as if they were completely fine with the French occupying their city. Some of them, those who spoke or understood French, even struck up conversations with the Troops. French Soldiers became well received Guests in Bars and Inn's, visiting them quite frequently.

All in all, yes: Life in Palermo was going on as usual, as if there hadn't been any Invasion.

"Is this how it usually goes?", asked Alphonse curiously as he and the Caporal rested at a Plaza with Statues and a Fountain.

Alexandre gave a barking laugh. "No, my boy. Usually, we'd have People hurling insults and rocks at us. Maybe some would even try to kill us. Then we'd kill them right back and everyone would cry out about cruel Soldiers massacring innocent Civilians." He shrugged. "Not that I'm complaining, though. I guess the Pastas REALLY didn't like their King all that much."

Alphonse nodded. He had talked to quite a few Citizens here and their Opinion of Ferdinand III. had been thoroughly negative. The People seemed sick and tired of his Rule. At one Point, a Merchant had even thanked him and the French Army for 'getting that Parasite off of our backs'.

As for the Republic of Sicily that was being established, most People in the City seemed to wait and see what would come of it. Not many of them were outright enthusiastic about the prospect, but most seemed willing to give it a try.

"I guess it helped that General Auclair punished the offenders that were caught so thoroughly and publicly. And that there weren't that many to begin with", he said as he scribbled Notes while looking at the Statues around the Fountain.

"I suppose you're right, lad. To be honest, this was the cleanest and most bloodless Capture of a Town I've ever seen." Alexandre took of his hat and wiped the sweat off of his brow. "But while the Defenders didn't kill me, this Italian heat just might do the trick..."

Feeling bold, Alphonse cracked a grin. "If all these years at War couldn't kill you, Caporal, then some sun won't do it either. Maybe it will make your skin even more wrinkly though."

Alexandre gave a snorting laughter. "Hah! Let's see how you young Grasshopper will look after so many years in the army! Besides, I'm not THAT old yet, you know?" He paused. "...Not that I really know how old exactly I am anyway. My Mother put me in an Orphanage right after my birth and no one bothered to remember or record the date I entered this fucked up World."

Alphonse looked at the older man with a twinge of pity in his eyes. Alexandre waved it off. "Bah, don't give me that look, boy. There are some poor fuckers out there who deserve far more sympathy then I do. All things considered, I think I did pretty well for myself."

Alphonse hesitated, but finally shrugged and went back to scribbling in his notebook.

"...Alright, I have to ask: What are you doing there anyway?", asked Alexandre.

"I'm making drawings of the Statues and the Fountain. To show my little Sister when I get back home", Alphonse replied, adjusting his Glasses.

"Why? Anything special about them?", wondered the Caporal.

"Of course!", Alphonse exclaimed with gleaming eyes. "This is the Fontana Pretoria! This whole Plaza was build just for it, over two-hundred years ago, by the greatest Artists of the time from all over Italy! It's a work of art!"

Alexandre looked skeptically at the Statues. "Oh...sure. Art. Yeah, of course, now I see it too."

Alphonse rolled his eyes. He had to keep in mind that few of his fellow Soldiers had gotten an education like he had, that would let them fully understand the beauty of Statues and other Works of Arts like these.

Then again, that was why he had signed up to fight for the Revolution. The World would be a better place if more People had this kind of understanding and education. And if the Revolution could give them that, along with Liberty, then it was a cause worth fighting for. Even if the reality of war had dampened his enthusiasm, he still held on to the core of it.

Maybe one day, brutal sackings and massacred Civilians would be a thing of the past when all Soldiers understood and saw the world through educated eyes.

...Or maybe that was naive wishful thinking.

Still, Alphonse thought as he finished the drawings and closed his notebooks, if nothing else, he would get to show his little Sister some really impressive stuff once he returned.

And that thought brought a smile to his lips.


A.N.: Part 1, done. Part 2 following either today or tomorrow.

Dans les rues de Palerme, Part 2


The Sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky over Palermo. As the next Shift of Guards took up their Patrols, the Soldiers now free of duty either retired to the Camp outside the city - or their Inn, if they had enough money to afford a room in one of those - or to the bars around town.

Jean and Philippe were two of the letter category. Together with a few other soldiers, they made their way across a Plaza and towards one of the Taverns.

"I heard this place is really good!", said one of their comrades. "Hell, Pierre told me the owner was one of us! A French, I mean."

Another one nodded. "Yeah, I heard that too. A merchant who decided to settle here after making enough Money. Well, all the better for us! Especially since none of us here speaks Pasta."

"Well, except Alphonse", interjected a third one with a chuckle. "But he's too busy with drawing to go out and have fun."

Jean waved it off. "Ah, leave him be. That just means more booze for us!"

A cheer went up among the Soldiers as they reached the Tavern and entered. Sitting down at the Bar, they were soon greeted by the Owner and Barkeeper

"Ah, greetings, my fellow Countrymen!", said the Barkeeper, a rotund man with balding hair. "I'm Antonio and I welcome the brave fighters for the Revolution! What do you guys want? The first round won't cost you anything!"

Philippe laughed. "Now that's what we like to hear!"

As they got their drinks, Jean looked around the Tavern. Most People here were clearly Citizens of Palermo. They didn't greet the French with enthusiasm, but they didn't glare angrily or mistrustfully at them either. Most just looked at them for a few seconds before going back to their own drinks. The Atmosphere was not necessarily one of outright approval, but one of acceptance. So like most of the whole City.

It was fine by him, really. He honestly preferred the People treating them little different then normal instead of carrying them on their shoulders.

Soon, all of the Soldiers had gotten their drinks and began to chug. A few struck up a conversation with Antonio, Philippe among them.

"So, Antonio, what do you think of the Revolution?", asked Philippe.

The Barkeeper shrugged. "Eh, I've been settling here in Palermo for more then ten years. When I first heard about it, I didn't think too much. I thought it's effects wouldn't reach me any time soon." He smirked. "But I do like it that you socked it to the Bourbons! Damn privileged Bastards with their Arrogance and Taxes..."

The Soldiers murmured in agreement.

"I'm also glad you Guys seem to have smoothed out the edges in the Republic. After what I heard about that Robespierre-Fellow...", Antonio said.

Philippe snorted. "Yeah. That Bastard...! I wish they had put him on the Guillotine like all those he had put there!"

"Wait, weren't you a Jacobite back in the day?", asked one of the Soldiers.

"Yeah, well, that was BEFORE they went fucking insane and started chopping everyone's heads off", answered Philippe. "Socking it to the Aristos is one thing, but to behead some poor Bastard just because he had a slip of the tongue one time at the wrong time and in the wrong place?"

The Soldier shrugged. "Fair enough."

Before anyone else could say something, the door of the Tavern burst open. A bunch of tall, angry looking men wearing unwashed clothes entered the Tavern. Their Leader barked something in Italian at Antonio, who had walked towards them. The Barkeep, suddenly looking pale, tried to argue back, but a deadly glare from the leader let him fall silent.

Jean's eyes narrowed as he stood up and walked over to them. "Is there a Problem here, Antonio?", he asked.

The eyes of the men men who had just entered widened before glaring once more at Antonio. "Traditore!!", their Leader hissed. "Stai già facendo amicizia con i tuoi vecchi amici, eh?!"

"What'd he say?", Jean asked Antonio, not even looking at the man.

Antonio gulped. "H-he and his friends are former Soldiers of the Sicilian Army. Survivors of the Garrison. I think they deserted when it became clear you would take the City. They've been harassing me these past few days because I'm French...and now, with you here, they're calling me a Traitor. He...he said he would come back tomorrow and if I'm still here by then, they'll burn my Tavern down."

"...Do they now?", asked Jean with a deceptive calm. "Well then...Antonio, please tell this Fucker that he and his Pals should leave now."

Antonio looked uncertain, but he translated. The former Sicilian Soldiers eyes narrowed. Their Leader barked something at Jean, his spit flying into the French Soldiers face.

"H-he...he said that he won't take order from some Frog-eating Bastard", Antonio translated. "Especially not one who takes his Order from some Whore, who has probably fucked half of France to become a General."

Jean's eyes narrowed. This Pasta-Muncher was REALLY starting to get him mad. "Oh yeah? Well...tell him that I'd rather be a Frog-Eater then some Coward who ran and hid away at the first sign of trouble and is now harassing a Tavern-Owner to feel not quite as much like he had cut his own cock and balls off. Oh...and also, clearly General Auclair is ten times the Man he is, Woman or not."

Antonio gulped before hesitantly translating. The Sicilians faces grew red with fury. Their Leader clenched his fists and screamed curses at Jean. "Bastardo!! Ti daremo una lezione!!"

But before he and his fellow thugs could do anything, Philippe and the other Soldiers walked up behind Jean. Some of them pulled out their Bayonets while others aimed their Muskets at the Thugs. They weren't actually loaded, but their Opponents didn't need to know that.

Jean himself pulled out his own Bayonet and glared at the Leader, who suddenly didn't look quite as brave anymore. "You really sure you wanna do this, Pal?"

Antonio didn't even need to translate that one, the meaning was clear. The Thugs backed off a bit, looking both angry and frightened.

"Now, please tell them this, Antonio", said Jon. "If they get any Ideas about doing stuff to you or your Tavern, we will come and find THEM. And even once we're gone, the Soldiers who will remain behind to Garrison the City will surely do the same. So they shouldn't even THINK about it. Oh and, also? Tell them to fuck off NOW."

After Antonio's Translation, the Thugs quickly scrambled back into the Streets, clearly not wanting to pick a fight with armed Soldiers.

The Barkeeper breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, my friends! You saved my humble Tavern and quite possibly my life!"

Philippe shrugged. "Hey, don't sweat it. You gave us free drinks! Would be damn poor of us to just leave you hanging."

Antonio smiled. "Well, in that case...another Round on the House for you!" He paused. "Actually, to celebrate the Occasion: Another round on the House for the whole Tavern!"

As he repeated that in Italian, the other Patrons cheered.

While sitting down and going back to drinking, the French Soldiers noted that Philippe only drank his second free glass but didn't order anything after that.

"What's the matter, Philippe?", asked one of the Soldiers. "Don't you have money to pay for more?"

"No, no, I just...have a meeting later. I don't wanna be drunk for that", Philippe replied.

Jean smirked. "You had these meetings for the last few days now. Man, Maria REALLY got you good, didn't she?"

"Oh shut your face, Jean!", Philippe growled, but only half-heartedly.

As the Soldiers laughed at their Comrades embarrassment, Jean took a gulp from his own Glass. Ah, they joys of living the Army-Life...


A.N.: Part 2, done. Part 3 will come tomorrow.