The Cavalry

Source

The battalion was formed in line, the men lying in the grass praying that the French cannon shot would pass overhead. On occasion a ball would fall short and kill or cripple some poor soul. Some of the men looked ready to head for the rear.

Christian walked among the recumbent soldiers, giving words of encouragement and pointing out that they were not taking as many casualties as it seemed. In truth, only three men had, so far, been hit by the French guns.

"Quite the pounding, innit Sir?"

Christian looked down, it was the same sergeant who had spoken to him when the Duke had stopped by.

"Much sound and fury, Sergeant."

"Aye Sir, signifying nothing. At least for the moment."

Christian nodded at the sergeant's acquaintance with Shakespeare, not all of the men in Wellington's army were "scum, enlisted for drink." Of course, that was the British he spoke of, not these proud Hanoverians.

"Keep a tight leash on the lads, Sergeant. And keep your head down, ja?"

The sergeant grinned, "Zu befehl, Herr Major!"

Christian had posted skirmishers further down the slope, both to discomfit the French still intent on taking the farm, and to provide warning of unpleasant surprises coming up the slope. He heard a shout, there, out of the smoke, green-clad men.

"Cavalry, Sir! Boney is mustering his horsemen, great scads of cuirassiers, Sir, headin' this way!"

"Fall in with the others you men! Battalion will prepare to receive cavalry!"

The smoke was clearing slightly in front of the battalion, a freshening wind was carrying much of it westward. But as the firing was still continuing around the farm, it hadn't dissipated totally.

Christian felt the ground shaking, looking down the slope, he realized that the French horsemen would have trouble gaining any speed in their charge due to the recent rains. It was very muddy, but it certainly felt like a lot of cavalry were pounding up the slope.

"Steady lads!" he shouted from the interior of the square formation units adopted to defeat cavalry. Though if the French guns were to open up again, they'd be cut to red ruin in such a compact formation.

Out of the lingering smoke burst a line of heavy horsemen, Napoléon's vaunted cuirassiers. Big men on big horses wearing steel breast and back plates and wearing a horsehair-plumed steel helmet. These horsemen were packed together, knee to knee, though struggling to gain speed on the slippery slope, they were moving fast enough to terrify a man on the ground.

If he was alone.

"Steady, steady, hold your fire, lads!" Christian noted that his officers and sergeants were repeating his orders amid the noise and confusion of the horsemen swirling around their square. Occasionally a cavalryman would lean out of his saddle and try to skewer a man behind the hedge of bayonets, unsuccessfully for the most part.

One of the sergeants leaned forward on one such occasion and drove his spontoon into one Frenchman's face, causing a terrible wound and unhorsing the man at the feet of the front rank of kneeling men. He was immediately bayoneted by one of the standing men in the second rank, stabbing him in his lower belly, under his armor.

The Battle of Waterloo: The British Squares Receiving the Charge of the French Cuirassiers
Henri Félix Emmanuel Philippoteaux (PD)

One of the younger lieutenants leaned over and began to vomit upon seeing that. Christian looked over and was about to say something when one of the men yelled out, "Was it something you ate, Sir?" Which brought a laugh from the nearby men.

"Eyes to your front lads, it ain't over yet!" Christian yelled out.

Then as suddenly as the French cavalry arrived, they withdrew, down the slope and out of sight in the drifting smoke.

"Huzzah!" one of the men cried out, "They're on the run!"

Christian pointed his sword in the man's direction and bellowed, "SILENCE! That man! Steady lads, they'll be back!"

As the cavalry withdrew to the valley below, the French artillery began to fire again. His instincts and experience made Christian cautious, he knew the cavalry would be back. But still, the fire was starting to cause casualties.

"Lie down! Stay in your positions and lie down!"

"Skirmishers, Sir?"

"Yes, far enough out to warn us of the cavalry's return but not so far that they might get caught in the open!"

As the skirmishers went out, Christian looked up, among the drifting clouds of moisture and of smoke, he could see that the sun was still high in the sky. He began to wonder if he would survive this day.

"So we can neither go forward, nor back the way we came." Elsbeth was watching Thomas intently.

"No ma'am, the Frenchies are to the south and the road to Brussels is choked with supply wagons moving this way, and wagons loaded with wounded moving t'other. For the moment we're stuck, I don't even know where William has got to, he might've been waylaid on the road."

"Waylaid? But there are soldiers everywhere!"

"Yes, ma'am it was probably soldiers who waylaid him. There are more nationalities out there than I can count. Eighty varieties of German, not to mention Dutch, Flemings, Walloons, and various other flavors of Belgian. Then there's the English, Welsh, Scots, and Irish. And they're all allegedly on our side."

"So we are here in ...?"

"The village is called Waterloo, ma'am. The Duke has his headquarters here."

"Perhaps we can speak to the Duke?"

"He is on the field, ma'am. Along with most every other officer worth his salt."

"The ones here in the village, perhaps ..."

"I wouldn't trust them with you, ma'am. Scoundrels most of 'em."

"So?"

"We wait, ma'am."

"What are we waiting for?"

"To see who wins. Of course."

La Haye Sainte, Early Afternoon

Source

"Kaltenweide!"

Christian turned and saw a party of mounted men proceeding down the ridge to his position. One of them had called his name, he stood tall and straight when he recognized the Duke among the party. Baron von Ompteda had called out to him.

"Is this all there is of your battalion?" The Baron asked with some concern.

"I sent two companies down to that orchard, to assist Baring." Christian answered, nodding in the direction of La Haye Sainte's orchard.

Ompteda hesitated and was about to countermand Christian's order when the Duke interrupted, "Be prepared to pull them back if need be."

"Yes Sir, from here I ..." But he was talking to the Duke's back.

"Annoying when they don't listen, innit?" Sergeant Oster had come up behind him.

"Yes, I suppose it is. But with all that folderol going on across the valley, I suppose His Grace has much on his mind."

"What? Boney and his entire army? Lots of cheering and band music, but we whipped them in Spain and we'll whip them here as well. Right, Major?"

"One hopes."

The Emperor rode down the line, letting his men see him. They were ecstatic and were cheering themselves hoarse. Shakos and helmets topped bayonet and sword points as they bellowed their support for their beloved Emperor.

Napoléon turned his mount and rode back to his little table set up at Rossomme farm, from where he could see the entire battlefield. He dismounted and walked stiffly to his maps. He sat down, then immediately got back up, his hemorrhoids were acting up badly and he couldn't sit for long. Nevertheless, he stood by the little table and checked the map with what he could see from his position. He turned to an aide.

"Can we move the guns?"

"The ground is drying, Sire. But it will be another two hours before we can maneuver as you wish." His chief of artillery answered for the aide. "I have just come from the area around La Belle Alliance, the ground is muddy but is drying in this sun."

"Very well," he snapped his pocket watch open, checked the height of the sun, then continued, "we open the battle at one, not a moment later. What news of the Prussians?"

"We have various reports, nothing from Maréchal Grouchy as yet, but they will be coming, you know how stubborn Blücher is."

"Bah, have cavalry pickets posted to the east to warn of their approach. I shall go lie down for a bit, it was a long night gentlemen and as the ball has yet to be opened, I will rest."

"What?" Christian looked in shock at Major Baring.

"We took shelter here for the night, no one informed us that we would be defending the place until just before sunrise." Baring shook his head in disgust.

At that moment the sound of cannon fire from the French side of the valley thundered out. First one shot, then another, then a third.

"I don't think we have any choice but to hold this, unless I miss my guess, the French will be arriving shortly." Baring said.

Christian looked in that direction, he couldn't see anything. "I'm going to ride forward a bit, there's something going on over to the left but I can't see anything."

As he nudged his mount forward he got where he could see the rising ground to the southeast of La Haye Sainte.

"Dear Lord ..."

A grand battery of many guns was lined up, the gunners could be seen preparing their pieces. French infantry columns were advancing, all bellowing "Vive l'Empereur!!!"

Christian rode back to his command just as the French grand battery began to fire on the positions to the east of the farm. In between the roar of each cannon, he thought he could hear the beat of drums and the shouts of thousands of men. Napoléon was on the move.

Kurt von Weiding was lying in a barn just outside the town of Genappe. He was feverish and the surgeons were concerned, but as they were French surgeons, they weren't that concerned.

Kurt had been hit by a small stone thrown up by a French round shot which had bounced just in front of where he sat his horse with Wellington's staff. He had brought a message from his commander, the Prince of Orange, and was waiting for a reply. He heard a shout and had turned just as the ball hit the road, then bounced.

It had gone well over his head but the debris kicked up from the road did not. A small stone had ripped through his right thigh and gone into his horse, killing the poor beast. There was a surgeon nearby who had cleaned the wound as best as he could. Kurt had managed to hobble to a nearby barn where wounded were being collected.

He had scribbled a letter to Kaltenweide while waiting to be seen by another doctor. As his wound was considered minor, he waited. As a staff officer without a mount, he was considered useless, and in reality he was.

The wound had become infected and when the army pulled back towards Brussels, he had been left behind. The French had been rough at first, the infantry who had seized the barn had been roughly handled all day and were in no mood to coddle an Allied prisoner. Especially a German. But they had eventually moved on, looking for food, drink, and loot.

"Major?"

Kurt looked up, it was a surgeon. "Yes?"

"I'm afraid we're going to have to leave you behind, the army is moving on. I will clean and rebind that wound for you, but I'm afraid if the infection gets worse, the leg will have to come off."

Kurt went pale as a sheet, but only said, "Thank you, what can I do?"

"Hope that there is a doctor in this village that might help you, but they are overwhelmed with the number of seriously wounded already. So, it might be a while."

As the surgeon left, Kurt's spirits sank. Would he ever see Elsbeth and his son again?

The cannonade lasted for what seemed like hours but may have only been 15 to 30 minutes as the French had to cease fire when their infantry began to climb up the slope to the Allied position. Christian's battalion had taken a few casualties from balls which had overshot La Haye Saint. One man was decapitated. After that, Christian had had the men lay down.

"Kaltenweide!"

Christian stood up, it was one of the Baron's aides.

"Move your battalion forward, the men in the orchard are being pressed hard. The Baron wants your unit to provide cover for the men retreating, not all of whom can make it to the interior of the farm. Boney's voltigeurs are swarming like flies on a carcass down there."

"At once! Bugler, sound assembly!"

The men got up, reluctantly. "Riflemen to the front!"

"Capitän!" He shouted at the man commanding his riflemen, "lay down fire on that advancing column, I need time to move up and help extricate our two companies and whoever else is left in the orchard!"

"Zu befehl!" The man yelled back as he moved to execute Christian's order.

The remainder of the battalion, some 300 men, formed two deep line and began to step off. The French artillery was ignoring them in favor of hitting the Allied line to the east of the farm as two French divisions were almost upon that line. Christian could hear their shouts of "Vive l'Empereur!!" as they came on.

"Battalion! Halt!"

As a pair of sergeants got the battalion ready to fire, Christian saw the remnants of his two companies streaming from the orchard and falling in behind the battalion. There were a number of soldiers from Baring's unit and quite a few red-jacketed Hanoverians from one of the line battalions as well.

"Volley fire!"

The men took a step forward.

"Present!"

The muskets dropped down to firing position.

"Fire!"

In the smoke of the volley, the battalion began to cautiously back up, reloading as they did so. The French were reluctant to come on as they were being galled by Christian's riflemen. But something was moving out there in the clouds of smoke ...

"Cavalry!" One of the men shouted.

Without being told, the battalion began to form a rough square, more of a clump of men facing outward, but still the hedge of bayonets would dissuade the horses from plunging in.

"Back lads, back slowly, keep your intervals!"

They were reaching their supports on the ridge now, also the enemy horsemen were receiving a blizzard of fire from La Haye Sainte. Eventually they fell back away from that fire, but their mission had been accomplished, La Haye Sainte's orchard was in French hands!

"How many did you lose, Capitän Knorr?"

The man had lost his shako, his face was powder-stained, and his uniform torn. He looked up at Christian, "Thirty two out of eighty seven, Herr Major. But there are many French lads who won't be going home when this affair is over."

By bits and pieces, his battalion was being whittled down. At this rate he'd be reduced to commanding a company if this kept up.

And the day was still young.

On the Eve of Battle

Source

"Have a minute, Sir?"

Christian looked up, it was William. Behind was a shabbily dressed figure wearing a bedraggled cloak, the hood pulled up to cover the face and head. Christian thought that unusual given that the morning was hot and humid.

"What is it, William?"

The man stepped closer and spoke quietly, "It's 'er, Sir, the lass who's your friend."

The figure stepped into the barn, throwing off the hood once out of sight of anyone outside.

"Dear Lord, Elsbeth. Why are you here, of all places?"

"Christian, the road to Brussels is choked with traffic, 'tis no place for a lady on her own."

He thought for a moment before he spoke, "I suppose you're right, but ..."

"If I travel with you, I will be safe. Won't I?" She said that with a mischievous glitter in her eye.

Christian, in frustration, rubbed his face with both hands, then looked at William. Before he could speak, William preempted him.

"There's room in the wagon, Sir. She can ride inside, no one'll see her."

"Very well, for the moment though, please stay in here, Elsbeth. I must see to the men."

After William left, Christian began to go out, she grabbed his arm. "A word?"

Tired and anxious as to what lay ahead for the day, Christian stopped and looked at her. She leaned in close. "You are my only friend in this part of the world. I can trust you, yes?"

Not knowing what else to say, he muttered, "Of course, to the death madam, you can trust me."

The smile which lit up her face nearly brought him to his knees, then she kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Christian, thank you."

Blushing, Christian left the barn, only to run nearly head on into Thomas.

"Sir?"

"Don't go in there lad ..."

"I know Sir, Will told me."

Sighing, Christian paused, "What is it then?"

"No orders yet, Sir. The colonel expects them soon, but so far brigade is in the dark as to the Duke's wishes. The Baron wants to set off for Mont St. Jean, but the general says we wait.¹"

"Anything else?"

"Lieutenant Colonel von dem Bussche asks that you report to him as soon as you can. 'No rush,' he said."

"All right, make sure everything is ready to move. Frau von Weiding will be traveling with us, incognito mind you."

"Quite, Sir."

"I'm off to the inn then, Frau von Weiding is in the barn make sure she stays out of sight for now."

"Will do, Sir."

The inn was a scene of mass confusion, riders coming and going, aides and staff men rushing in and out. Christian saw his commander, outside under a tree, talking with other officers. He went over and waited patiently.

"Ah, Kaltenweide, I've been called up to the Baron's staff, there were a couple of openings. Men who fell in yesterday's fighting. Unless the Baron wishes otherwise, the 1st Light is yours. For the time being."

"Is the battalion bivouacked in the same place?"

"No, they've been moved to the northeast of Nivelles, along the road towards Lillois. Easy enough to find. You should move there immediately, I suspect the brigade will be ordered to Mont St. Jean shortly."

Christian nodded, it seemed that they were doomed to roam the Belgian countryside before ever seeing the enemy.

Once assigned to command the 1st Light Battalion, then "demoted" and given two companies to man an outpost, now once again in command. If only he knew where his battalion was. Though as luck would have it, he and his small party met up with the 2nd and 3rd Companies on the road to Lillois.

"Herr Major! Good to see you Sir. Going to Mont St. Jean?" It was Captain Herbert von Knorr, commanding 2nd Company, who had hailed him.

Christian saw that both of his old companies were there, he trotted over to where Knorr had called him.

"Mein lieber Capitän Knorr, how good to see you again. Our meeting is fortuitous."

"How so, Herr Major?"

"Your colonel has once again been called away to staff duty and ..."

"You are in command now? That is excellent! We're marching to join up with the remainder of the battalion. They are ..."

"Waiting for us in Lillois, I trust?"

Knorr laughed, "They had better be! Those were the Baron's orders."

"Let us be off then and ..."

Christian's words were drowned out by a sharp crash of thunder which had followed upon a very bright flash in the heavens. Then the heavens opened up once more, sheets of heavy rain and a cold wind from the east.

"Nature itself is against us, Herr Major!" Knorr shouted above the tumult.

The road was already running with rivulets of water, threatening to become a torrent.

"Let's move as quick as we can, Herr Capitän! Before the storm engulfs us."

The night was miserable, they had joined up with the rest of the battalion and had immediately set out once more for Mont St. Jean. Christian rode in the wagon for part of the way with Elsbeth.

"Do you think Kurt is still alive?" she had asked him.

"I don't know, my dear. Kurt is a tough fellow, it would take more than the French to kill him I would think." He had tried to sound positive, almost hearty. But she saw through that.

"I think he is dead. Or worse, horribly mangled and in pain."

Christian reached out and took her hands in his. A deep feeling of longing came over him, but he quickly forced it away. Kurt was a friend and a colleague, longing for another man's wife was wrong on so many different levels. But the heart wants what it wants he supposed.

"I shall send someone to Brussels as soon as we get close to Mont St. Jean. I'm afraid you might have to spend the night in the village there because, as you can see, the roads are a nightmare. I shall leave William and Thomas with you. I'm sure Kurt is alright but is sick with worry over you. You should have returned to Brussels when you had the chance."

His admonishment made her narrow her eyes in anger, but that passed quickly. "Christian, it is war, my husband lies at death's door and my very good friend might share the same fate."

"Which friend is that ..." he began.

"You, you idiot."

They arrived on the ridge of Mont St. Jean at nearly two in the morning. His wagon, containing nearly all of his possessions, along with his batman, his servant, and Elsbeth, had continued on to the village of Mont St. Jean. He had to set to work immediately getting his battalion settled in for the night.

They were in the open, on a slope leading down into a valley, across which he noted campfires. A sergeant of the KGL Line had noticed his glance.

"That's the French over there, Herr Major. They chased the Duke all the way from Quatre Bras but were brought up short by a few well-served batteries. I think they mean to do us harm, Sir." The sergeant said with a laugh.

"I daresay you are right. Glancing to his left, he saw some buildings in the gloom of night, someone had a fire going there. The sergeant addressed him again.

"The rest of your light bobs are there, Sir. 2nd Battalion under Major Baring."

As he nudged his horse in that direction, he thanked the Sergeant.

Arriving at what seemed to be a substantial walled farmhouse and complex he was challenged by a sentry, in German.

"Major von Kaltenweide, 1st Light Battalion KGL!"

"Advance and be recognized!"

He did so and noted that where once had been a stout farm door there was only an empty space. This opened onto the fields and would allow an attacker easy access. No doubt the men had torn it down for firewood.

He searched out Baring and found him in the farmhouse.

"Ah, Kaltenweide! I'd heard you were back in the Army. Bored at home?"

"Something like that, I have the 1st Light now, we're posted not far from here, up on the ridge to your right rear. Anything we can do to help? This place doesn't look prepared for combat."

"It isn't, they took my pioneers, my tools, and everything else needed to prepare some walled chateau on the right of the line. It's important, but as important as this post? In the very center of the Duke's line? I think not. Before it got dark I had my glass on an inn across the valley, Boney's Imperial Guard are there."

"I see your men also burned one of the ..."

"Yes, the idiots burned the door to the fields, I suppose they think the French will only come in the front door. They would've probably burned that as well had one of my officers not stopped them. As to help, how much discretion did the Baron give you in your command. I'm a little short of men."

"I could loan you a pair of companies I suppose, say 80 to 90 men?"

"That would be a blessing. There is an orchard forward of the barn, next to the chaussée, if you could place your men there. From where you are posted they can be supported by your men, or fall back into the buildings with us."

"If it comes to that, I'd rather they rejoin the battalion, if, of course, they are able. I shall give you all the support I can, provided the Baron doesn't send us elsewhere."

"Thank you, Christian. Be careful tomorrow, the Duke isn't going anywhere and I suspect Boney will hit us with everything he's got."

"You take your own advice, Georg. Be careful, I'll support you if I can. "

"That's all I can ask. Bis Morgen!²"

"Bis Morgen, mein Kamerad. May God protect you, and all of us."

"Amen!"

¹ The Duke of Wellington discouraged initiative in his subordinates. No one would move without his say so.

² Until tomorrow. "Morgen" can also mean "morning."

Confusion Reigns

Source

The barrier in the road had been cleared and the men of the two companies of the KGL's 1st Light Battalion had been starting to fall in in preparation to head back towards Nivelles and then north towards Brussels.

They had received no further official word since the dispatch rider had gone through. As the storm broke around them, Christian gave the word to step off.

The rain was torrential, the men had had to move off into the saturated fields twice in order to make way for artillery and ammunition carts. Christian realized that this would double the amount of time needed to reach their destination.

As they marched, the storm started to break up, though on the horizon there were clouds promising another storm hard on the heels of this one. Christian remounted his horse, as he looked towards the east, he saw mounted men in the distance.

"Battalion! Prepare to receive cavalry!!" Though only two companies strong, the commands were given as if to an entire battalion, Christian saw no other way unless it was to let the two companies operate as separate entities, which would have meant disaster if the French were now upon them.

In fairly short order, the two companies had moved off the road and into the muddy fields. Christian wondered why the horsemen were taking so long to come up. As they got closer, he realized that the men were allies, among them he spotted his brigade commander, Colonel von Ompteda.

"Kaltenweide! What is the meaning of this?" Ompteda sounded furious.

"Sir, a dispatch rider came through and ordered us to fallback to Nivelles and thence onwards to Mount St. Jean. Said that the Prussians were defeated and that the Duke had ordered the retreat." Christian answered.

Ompteda reined up but gestured to the men with him to continue on, only a single aide stayed with the colonel.

"Damn it!" Ompteda snapped, then softened his tone.

"Sorry Kaltenweide, it's just that rumors have been spreading and some officers have deserted the field, spreading panic and misinformation in their wake. Did you recognize this dispatch rider's uniform?"

"No Sir, he was covered in mud from head to toe, his cap was correct and he spoke German like a Hanoverian. So I took him at his word."

"Quite so. Damn it again. Probably an officer with one of the militia battalions, they took casualties and one unit fell apart. Panicky bastards."

"Your orders, Sir?"

"Continue back to Nivelles, we probably shall head for Mount St. Jean yet, but we have no orders to do so at the moment. From what I understand, the army still holds its position in front of Quatre Bras. The French pulled back as I believe we outnumber them now. But it is true that we've heard old Blücher was licked. Some reports indicate Prussian fugitives fleeing towards Liege, others state that the Prussians are falling back in good order. I don't know what to believe at the moment."

"So we continue?"

"Smartly, Kaltenweide, smartly."

Then Ompteda rode off to catch up with his staff.

When they arrived at Nivelles the streets were clogged with supply wagons, stragglers, and walking wounded. He had his two best sergeants go out to find the rest of the battalion, to no avail.

"Sir, I talked with a mate in another regiment, he said the KGL was ordered north late in the afternoon, seems that that was not a valid order, but anyone's best guess is that most of our guys are farther up the road, strung out between here and Brussels."

Christian nodded, "Thank you, Sergeant. Rejoin your company and my compliments to your Captain, we shall continue the march shortly. Have the men fed, no one to leave the company area under pain of death. Am I clear?"

"Klar wie Glas, Herr Major!¹"

As the night grew darker, it rained again, off and on. To the east, towards Quatre Bras all was quiet. Christian and his two companies waited, he was fretting that they were wasting time.

Around midnight word arrived, the horseman looked exhausted as he gave Christian his orders, "Bivouac here for the night. The army holds its position at Quatre Bras. We wait for orders from the Duke. Blücher has been defeated, we have not. But as he is falling back, no doubt we shall as well. We're not even sure if the Prussians are retreating at this point. The Duke's orders are to stand fast until further notice. By the way, I have two letters for you, one from Lieutenant Colonel von dem Bussche and another from someone named Weiding." The mounted man handed the letters over.

"Thank you, Captain." Christian said to the man's back as he was already riding off.

He opened the first letter, it was a short note ordering the two companies to rejoin the battalion at Mont St. Jean as soon as possible. The second was from Kurt, Elsbeth's husband.

My dear von Kaltenweide,

Just a short note, I have been wounded, not too badly I trust, but am being sent back to Brussels. The last I heard, my wife was in Nivelles. Could you find her and let her know. Tell her to come to Brussels, fast as she can.

Respectfully,

Von Weiding

Christian folded the letter from Kurt and tucked it into his jacket. As to Elsbeth, he decided that she would probably check in at the inn. Unfortunately, he couldn't leave his troops to go there in person, so he summoned one of his sergeants.

"Sir?"

The man waited as Christian hurriedly scribbled a note. When done, he folded it and handed it to the man. "Get this to the inn where we had our headquarters on the 14th, hand it to the proprietor and tell him to hold it for the addressee. Questions?"

"None Sir."

"Off you go then, get back as fast as you can, I suspect we shall be marching at first light."

"Sir!"

Elsbeth hurried to the inn when a soldier told her that there was a message there for her. The man had served with her husband in the past so he knew her by sight.

"You have a letter for me?" 

The proprietor recognized her, who could forget such a face? He turned and saw the piece of paper, he noted that the address simply said, "E. von Weiding."

"I suspect this is for you, Ma'am."

"Thank you."

She returned to her quarters and tore the note open ...

My dearest Elsbeth,

Kurt has been wounded and is being evacuated to Brussels, he desires to meet you there.

All is confusion here, trust you are well, we march soon.

With affection,

Christian von Kaltenweide

Her heart leapt into her throat, Kurt, wounded? She thought for a moment, then put on her best walking shoes and a good cloak. Packing a few necessaries into her bag, she went to find the Legion. If Christian was still there, she would go with him. The roads were choked with stragglers, wounded, baggage wagons, artillery and all sorts of riff-raff, no doubt deserters. Traveling alone would be suicide, she would go with Christian, or not go at all.

The sun rose on the 17th of June, a Saturday. Three armies would soon be converging on a ridge to the south of Brussels. The destinies of thousands would be decided there on the morrow ...

Some would live, many would die.

¹ Clear as glass, Major.