Call to Arms

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"And just what do you think you're doing, you old fool?"

Christian looked up at his wife and sighed. She had not been in the best of health lately and he felt bad for ignoring her much of the time. But she had her garden, and he had his friends down at the public house. Since retiring he had felt more and more useless with each passing day.

But that morning, a post rider had ridden past their little cottage. He knew the boy.

"What news, laddie?"

The boy reined up and shouted back, "Bonaparte, he's back in France! Landed a week ago, they say he's halfway to Paris with an ever-growing army!"

As the lad had galloped off, Christian thought for a moment. If the ogre was back, perhaps his services might be needed. After all, a lot of the army was off in America fighting over some squabble regarding impressed sailors, he knew little of that and cared less.

But now he was going through his things, seeing what he might need if recalled. Surely most of his kit was still in good shape. Hhmm, he might to visit the village tailor to get his jacket and trousers let out a bit, life in the village was good, perhaps too good.

He turned to his wife, "Napoléon has escaped from Elba. I'm sure we will be going back to war as soon as the army can be gathered and sent across the Channel."

"And what need is there for an old fat fellow such as yourself? Sure you'd need two horses to carry you into battle, if I'm any judge of things."

With that she stormed off, back to her garden no doubt, the cucumbers were nearly ready.

"What say you, Captain?"

Christian nodded at the two men sitting near the door. One, his left sleeve empty, the arm which used to fill it buried in some dusty Spanish field, he knew well. The other, also a veteran of the unending wars with France, he knew, but not well. Both had been enlisted men and though he discouraged undue familiarity, these men were good for a chat while having an ale or two.

"Thomas, William, sounds like old Napoléon is back in France. I'm sure you've heard the news?"

"Sure have guvnor, why do you insist on calling him Napoléon, we call him Bonaparte or Boney 'round here. He weren't no emperor in our eyes. Part of that lot what murdered their rightful king, right?" William, the man with one arm, had spoken. Thomas, used to the ways of his constantly griping friend remained silent.

"Force of habit, William. Too many years with the Legion I suppose. Half of Europe loves the man, the other half might hate him, but there's respect there as well."

"Bah, hang the bugger I say." Then William went back to his ale, Thomas stood up.

"A word, Sir?"

"Certainly, let's go up to the bar."

The publican came out and nodded, "Cap'n, something to wet yer whistle?"

"Aye," looking at Thomas, who shook his head, "an ale for me and I'm sure Will there would take another."

"Oh sure he would, long as he ain't buyin'."

When Christian had his ale, he looked at Thomas with a questioning glance.

"Think there will be fighting then?" Thomas started off.

"Well, the Tories are still in charge, so I reckon there will be war. No doubt His Grace, the Duke of Wellington will command."

"Ain't he in Austria?"

"Indeed, though I am certain he will return as fast as he can."

"Will you be going into the field, Captain?"

"Well, yes, I hope to have a command. Why?"

"Take me with you."

"Didn't you see enough bloodshed and horror in Spain?"

"That I did, Your Honor, but if Boney's back, who's going to stop him? The Austrians? The Prussians? By the time the Russians get an army to the borders of France, Boney will have raised enough men to swat them away. No Sir, English steel and the pound Sterling will be what stops Bonaparte."

"You know I'm Hanoverian, yes?"

"Of course, I know that Your Worship. You served with the King's German Legion in Spain, fine lads. Take me with you Sir. Please."

Christian nodded, "Very well, Thomas, get your kit together. If I receive orders, you can come along. I'll have need of a batman at the very least."

"Thank you, Sir, and bless you."

"Be careful what you wish for Thomas. This could get very bloody."

As Christian was leaving, the publican came out, "Begging your pardon, Cap'n. I plumb forgot, but this letter came for you this morning. From Portsmouth."

Christian took the letter, "Thank you, Benjamin."

As he began to walk, he opened the letter ...

My Dear Captain von Kaltenweide,

With the return of Bonaparte, there is a need for infantry officers in the Hanoverian militia. Would you be interested in having a battalion in that service? This includes a promotion, brevet of course, to major. Please advise by the latest post.

Cordially, with Respect, Your Humble Servant,

Von Geldenstern, Colonel, ADC to His Majesty the Prince of Orange

A battalion? Was the Hanoverian service that desperate for officers? Of course, many of the men had served under the Emperor. Now they would be lumped in with the Allied forces. A challenge, why not?

Why not, indeed?