Change of Plans

Fish Market at Ostend
Andreas Achenbach (PD)

Christian stepped ashore at Ostend in a most odd location. The packet boat he had caught a ride on had been unable to dock in the main anchorage as the place was jammed full of ships bringing the army to the continent. So he went ashore at the fish market. He had expected to meet Thomas in Ostend, he'd gone ahead with all of their kit. So he was a bit concerned to have landed in an unexpected place.

One of the boat's crew had assured him that the main docks were only a short walk away, perhaps a mile. "Just follow the water way, there's a bridge a bit on, cross that and you'll see the anchorage. There are soldiers everywhere, you can't miss it!"

Christian set out, he had a soldier's knapsack for carrying his personal items, something he'd learned in the Peninsula. His uniform was somewhat non-descript. To a civilian the red coat made him British, most didn't know that George III was not only the King of Great Britain and Ireland but he was also now the King of Hanover. Many Hanoverian units wore uniforms very similar to those of the British Army.

Up ahead he saw the bridge the sailor had mentioned. He first saw the water between two buildings, the land being so flat that there was no way to see anything at a distance, except perhaps from the upper floors of the buildings. He also caught a glimpse of red uniforms!

"'At's right, Your Lordship, ain't no use going to the docks. Any soldiers what 'ave come ashore 'ave gone on down to the Sand Fort. 'At's another three mile from here. Just follow this road 'ere, take ya right to it."

Christian nodded, his English was excellent whereas the British corporal he'd talked to seemed to barely speak the language. As he walked on, he heard a Dutch voice nearby. As his wife was Dutch, he knew enough to get by, so he hailed the man in Dutch.

The fellow frowned at the uniform but answered cordially enough. He laughed when Christian asked him about the "sand fort" mentioned by the corporal.

"Ah no, Sir. He must mean Zandvoorde, it's a village not far from here," pointing, he continued, "There, see the sign, just follow those. Some of Mijnheer¹ Wellington's army is there."

Thanking the man, Christian moved on, he was starting to question the wisdom of coming here. But he knew where his duty was, or at least he thought he did.

"You'll die out there, you stupid, stupid old man. Go on then, you're no good to me here, moping around all day. Just go. Don't bother coming back." His wife had said upon his departure.

That still burned in his memory. For now he put one foot in front of the other, all that would wait.

"Sir! Sir! Over here!"

Christian looked up, there was Thomas. It was the first time he'd seen the man in uniform, it had transformed him. He looked every inch a soldier, nothing like the slightly bedraggled man he'd left in England.

"Thomas, I despaired of ever seeing you again! The port was a madhouse."

"Indeed it is, Sir. I have good news and bad news I'm afraid."

"What's the bad news?"

"Field Battalion Verden, or Bremen, the name seems to change daily but in reality it's two separate battalions, both of 'em up in Holland, a fair piece from here. And both already have commanders, fellow name of von Schkopp for Verden and von Langrehre for Bremen."

Christian's shoulders sank, "What's the good news? Do I have a battalion or not?"

"Well, you do and you don't."

Christian looked confused but brightened up as he saw they were walking towards a wagon drawn by two mules, two horses were saddled and waiting, another was tied to the back of the wagon. Christian thought that odd, then he saw the one armed William seated upon the wagon.

"Say, that must be my kit. But what's William doing here?" The last was asked in a softer voice.

Thomas looked in the direction Christian was pointing, "Oh yes, yes, that's another bit of good news. Got everything across the Channel in one piece, lucky one there I suppose. And William begged me to come, he's good with the wagon, even with just the one arm. Now as to your battalion ..."

"Yes?"

"Well, Baron von Ompteda, commanding the 2nd Brigade in Alten's 3rd Division has asked for you personally."

"And?"

"Well, it seems that Lt Colonel Louis von dem Bussche, nominally in command of the 1st Light Battalion of the KGL has been seconded to Wellington's staff, the 1st is in need of a commander. Ompteda picked you."

"I say, that is good news. Where are they?"

"I believe they're bivouacked near Ninove, but Ompteda is in Brussels, you'll want to see him first. We can be there in three days, four at most."

"Well then, Thomas, let's be off!"

"Oh, I almost forgot, Sir. I have a letter for you, it was waiting at the port." Thomas handed it over, slightly crumpled but the addressee was still legible.

When Christian saw the return address, he stopped cold, then his heart began to beat a little faster. It was from Elsbeth.

In all the excitement, he'd nearly forgotten her.

¹ Dutch for "mister" or "sir." A term of respect.