The Blau River Regimental Command grouping stood calmly on top of Hell Hill, the best vantage point on the entire medieval battlefield. The sounds and smells of battle permeated the scene. Screams, cheers, smoke, explosions, terror, gore and glory. The General's aide, Major Munchhausen, calmly observed the carnage through his spyglass. "Horzog has broken through our lines, General Kasparov!"
"Green bastards!" replied General Paulus. "Their numbers are endless! We sweep aside dozens of their mobs, but hundreds more take their place! Kaiser Willhelm Fredrick deserves better than this outcome. Once again, we fail the Emperor." General Paulus shook his head in disgust staring down each member of his staff, searching through them as if to determine which soldier to blame for their collective failure. Colonel Jacobs, artillery commander shuffled nervously. Major von Brock, the cavalry leader, readied himself for disciplinary action. Lieutenant Colonel Fleming, master of the infantry presented himself stoically.
General Paulus stood tall, and once again stared out over the destruction and suffering. All of the powerful soldiers watched together as yet another Empire war banner was overwhelmed by the Orc horde. "Ah, comrades in arms, this outcome is my responsibility. You've all given your best. It was I who underestimated the Orc numbers. Their breeding dens in the Stone mountains must be working overtime. Overtime indeed........" commented the General, as his voice trailed off. "I alone, am to blame for this tragedy! But fear not, we will live to fight another day. We must withdraw from the field, in as orderly a fashion as possible. All three of you," the General stated, as he gestured his massive hand towards his commanders. "All three of you must withdraw from the battlefield, and save all that you can, equipment and men. We shall meet at Koblenz, and regroup. Those are your orders!"
"The Orcs possess the initiative, General Paulus. Withdrawal will be difficult, given the current circumstances," commented Colonel Jacobs. The Colonel knew that if any group of soldiers was particularly vulnerable to being overrun, it was his men dragging their heavy steel guns.
"Don't worry," replied General Paulus drily. "I will provide the rear-guard. You will have the time required to complete your withdrawal. Now! Rejoin your units and carry out my orders! Begone!" shouted Paulus with a dismissive wave of his broadsword. The commanding officers each mounted their armoured cavalry horses and galloped off to their respective units. That left only General Paulus and Major Munchhausen at the peak of Hell's hill.
"I need you to personally deliver an order, Major Munchhausen," explained General Paulus, as he continued to survey the Orc army advancing on the left flank of the Empire army.
"Captain Schwarzkopf?" inquired the Major.
""Captain Schwarzkopf," confirmed General Paulus, nodding his head. "Kindly explain to the Captain that we are once again in need of his services, Major Munchhausen. A rear-guard action is required and I am ordering the Captain to provide the rear-guard. I know that he is capable, and he will not disappoint the Kaiser."
"Yes sir!" replied Major Munchhausen, and he too boarded his mount and galloped off, towards the last reserve troops possessed by the Regiment of the River Blau.
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"Green vermin!" shouted Captain Schwarzkopf. "Swine beings! A disgrace to God! Oh, how I hate the Orcs!" And Captain Schwarzkopf did hate the Orcs. He always had, ever since he joined the Kaiser's army forty years ago as a naive boy of twelve years of age. Forty years of training, dedication and determination had led him to his current command battalion. Battalion 427, The Flying Eagles: Two artillery, 3 horse drawn cannon and 2 rocket companies. Three infantry companies, 100 man units of halberds, swordsmen and a company of riflemen. And his proudest units, two cavalry companies. Twenty of the fabulous Wolf Knights and twenty more of the Brunswick Outriders. A powerful force!
Schwarzkopf's battalion had been placed in reserve, as usual. Why couldn't he be permitted to lead the attack? His men were loyal and would follow him anywhere! Always in reserve, and always the last to be deployed. For many years that is how it was. There was once a time when he was permitted to lead attacks. Back in nought 2, at the Battle of Grimdark Helm. It hadn't gone so well. And the Leamingham Deeps. That battle was also a tough one. Since then it was always the reserve, and usually the rearguard. Looking out over the current battle it wasn't completely clear as to what was going on, but it didn't look good. Not so good, at all. The sounds of battle were getting louder and closer. The smoke was thick and Schwarzkopf didn't have a great vantage point. But from what he could see, it didn't look good. "Why didn't they allow us to lead the attack?" asked Schwarzkopf, aiming the question towards his military aide, Lieutenant Erich Hartmann.
"I honestly don't know, sir," replied the Lieutenant. But in reality, Erich did think that he had a pretty good idea as to why the role of the Flying Eagles always seemed to be, to get crushed by the opposition. Captain Schwarzkopf was a brilliant leader of men. An incredible example to the troops, but a less than brilliant tactician. The result was a determined unit with outstanding staying power, but a battalion that always seemed to come out on the short end of the battle. Every skirmish resulted in a loss. The Captain simply responded with even more determination and loyalty to the cause. The new recruits always seemed to buy in though. Schwarzkopf might be getting on in years but he still had the charisma to create loyal and enthusiastic troops.
"Be ready boys!" shouted the Captain. "Our time is coming! Be ready to go at a moments notice!"
Suddenly, a rider emerged from the murk. It was Major Munchhausen. Go time.
"Captain Schwarzkopf," called out the Major. "Your services are required! It seems the Orcs have gotten the best of us on this day, and the Army of the Blau River is in need of a rear-guard action. We will regroup in Koblenz, behind the River Blau. But we need time to perform the maneuver. Can you provide us with the time?"
"Certainly!" replied Schwarzkopf. "We will perform with honour! General Paulus can count on us!" Sincere handshakes were exchanged and Major Munchhausen thanked the leader of the Flying Eagles profusely. Both men knew what was at stake. Rear-guard actions were extremely challenging and dangerous.
"Advance!" commanded the Captain. Immediately the Flying Eagles sprang into action. The immaculate Knight of the Wolf led the way followed by the Outriders. Infantry, the rocket carriers and the horse artillery followed. At the head of the advancing soldiery, as always, was the Captain himself riding his trusted steed Gunther.
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The battle went about as expected. The Army of the River Blau successfully withdrew to Koblenz, and took up strong defensive positions behind the river and in front of Koblenz. Combat losses had been heavy, but not as completely catastrophic as they would have been without the heroic rearguard action of the Flying Eagles. Battalion 427, on the other hand, had been decimated. One hundred and twenty six men lost. Not a single company was spared. Equipment losses were also high. All three cannons were lost. All of the rockets used up. Twelve dead horses, including, alas, beloved Gunther. Everyone had sustained some injury or other. Captain Schwarzkopf himself had a sixteen inch gash on his left shoulder. Schwarzkopf's aide, Lieutenant Hartmann had a broken leg, eventually set by an army doctor in a Koblenz military clinic.
In fact, the whole unit of the Flying Eagles had set up camp just down the street from the military clinic. God knows, most of them were in need of medical treatment after that battle.
One evening, a couple of weeks later, Erich Hartmann limped down to the mess tent on the pair of wooden crutches carved by his commanding officer. He grabbed a meal from the giant cast iron crock pot and sat down at the wooden table. Soon after, Captain Schwarzkopf himself collected his meal and walked over to Erich's table, finding a seat for himself across from where Erich was eating.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
"Why do we keep losing, Lieutenant Hartmann? Horzog cleaned our clocks. Again. I can't understand it. I only sleep four hours a day, and train the troops incessantly. (Scharzkopf had been drilling his injured troops in the courtyard outside of the military hospital). I'm getting on in years but I am still strong and quick and my sword's blade is keen. Should I give up on sleep altogether? Should I drive my troops harder? I don't even think that is possible!" Captain Schwarzkopf was rarely like this. He almost never questioned himself. Should Erich actually answer his questions seriously?
In what could definitely be considered a serious lapse in judgement, Erich tested the waters, "Maybe it's because the Flying Eagles suck at fighting?" answered Erich, as delicately as he could manage.
"What kind of disrespectful language is that, Lieutenant Hartmann! I could demand you court-martialed for such insolence! Even though the mess tent was quite noisy at this moment, several nearby diners turned to look at the mention of a court-martial. But then the grizzled Captain seemed to soften and followed it up with a quieter, "You can't be serious, son. The Flying Eagles are my life's work and I would do anything to make us a successful battalion. What are you talking about?"
Maybe it was the questionable beef stew, or maybe it was the recent memory of the resetting of the compound fracture of his leg, (Without anesthetic!) but Erich was probably taking another step too far when he responded, "When was the last battle that the Flying Eagles won, sir?"
This really stopped Captain Schwarzkopf in his tracks. His infinitely durable confidence faded for a moment, and he stumbled over the words of his answer, "Well, there was the Battle of the Black Helm,...... oh no wait, we didn't win that one. There was the Heinmark Forest encounter, oh no, that one didn't go so well...... Hmmm...... What about Shyte's Pass. Oh no, we lost half the cavalry in that one." Schwarzkopf remained silent for a while, counting on his fingers and scratching his balding forehead. "I guess that I see where you are going with this Erich. I just never really thought of it, in these terms before. What do you think that I should do about it?"
Erich was amazed. He never thought in a million years that his Captain might be willing to reconsider his approach. What could he say now? Suddenly, it just sort of blurted out of him, "Maybe you could consider a different approach, sir?"
Again, there was a considerable silence.
"That's it! Herr Hartmann, you are a genius! I know just what to do. I order you to investigate all of the options available to the Flying Eagles. While we recover from our battle wounds and replenish the ranks of our soldiers, I ask you to interview everyone under my command and find out which abilities and skills that we have heretofore ignored! Leave no stone unturned! No matter how outlandish the idea, I want to hear it! In a week's time we will meet again, and I will expect a full report! In the mean time I am to meet with the Eastern front military command in Danzig. Upon my return I expect you to have uncovered the resources required to make the Flying Eagles the Holy Prussian Empire's most potent fighting force!
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It was a long week.
The fact was that almost every single soldier in the Flying Eagles had already bought into Schwarzkopf's approach. Train hard. Fight for the Kaiser. Train harder. Nobody had any nuance at all. When he asked for suggestions from the guys, they responded with ideas like, 'Bigger guns', or, 'Longer swords'. Somehow, Erich didn't think that those ideas would help much. He was almost ready to give up on day 6. Schwarzkopf would be back tomorrow and he didn't have a thing to report. His leg hurt incessantly. Instead of resting it like he should have, Erich was spending his time limping around the base, interviewing one-track minded soldiers.
"What the hell am I gonna do?" asked Erich Hartmann, to no one in particular, while the assistant cook ladled pork stew into his wooden bowl.
"About what?" inquired the dinner server.
"Schwarzkopf wants me to find a new approach to Flying Eagles fighting. He wants new strategies or tactics or something. I can't find anybody with any useful ideas. What am I gonna do?" Erich almost dropped his bowl as he took his seat at the table to eat alone, and brood over his failures. He had been almost the last soldier to eat and so the cooks began to gather their own food. The young man who had received Erich's venting also filled his own bowl and brought it over to where Erich was sitting. Erich was embarrassed to admit that he didn't even know the young fellow's name. He was very young and scrawny. Not soldier material at all. No wonder they had sent him to the kitchen.
"Nicholas Meyer," said the young man as he took his seat and offered his hand for a hand shake. "I know who you are," he continued, interrupting Erich's attempt to introduce himself. "What would your answer be if I told you that I have a new set of ideas that could make the Flying Eagles into the world's most powerful fighting battalion?"
Erich Hartmann paused and considered his response. The nerdy cook's assistant was offering to serve up a new fighting recipe. One that he said would change the future of Battalion 427. Madness. But, then again, repeating failure is the very definition of madness. At the very least this guy's ideas would definitely not be a repeat of the failed ideas of the past.
"I think that my answer would be that I want to see your new ideas," responded Erich.
That is exactly what happened.
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The next day, as planned, Lieutenant Hartmann arrived at the spartan office of his commanding officer, Captain Maximilian Schwarzkopf. The 'office' consisted of a muddy white canvas tent, which inside housed a sleeping cot, a weathered wooden desk, a small filing cabinet and a heavy iron safe, with a large combination lock and steel handle.
"What have you found for me, Erich? I have been looking forward to the results of your search for the entire week that I was away." Schwarzkopf was really taking this process seriously. Erich Hartmann was starting to have severe second thoughts about this. What on Earth would he think when Nicholas walked into the room?
"Well sir, I have to admit that it was a difficult task that you left me with, and that combined with my physical difficulties," and with that, Erich nodded towards his still painful injured leg, "left me with no alternative but to consider the most original ideas available. I have someone for you to meet." With that, he stepped outside the tent and ushered in Nicholas Meyer, accompanied by a large leather satchel full of parchment papers.
To his credit, Schwarzkopf actually knew the assistant cook's full name. So typical of the soldier's soldier.
"Nicholas Meyer! What a surprise. To what do I owe the honour of having one of our fine cooks visit my humble office?" asked the Captain.
"Your aide was investigating possible new ideas for improving the fighting performance of the Flying Eagles brigade," explained the unkempt and physically unimpressive cook's assistant. He wore repaired eyeglasses and presented himself in a most unmilitary manner. He continued, "I believe that I have developed a system of just such ideas. It is my wish to present these ideas for your consideration." With that Nicholas spread out several parchments on to the carved wooden table that the Captain was using as a desk.
"How does this work, son? What exactly are you proposing?"
"See here, sir. Each of these parchments represents an accounting of the fighting qualities of each unit in our fine brigade. I even have a page for each and every officer and unit champion. Why sir, if I may be so bold, this parchment makes an accounting of your own brilliant fighting abilities. Each skill and ability is assigned a numerical rating, allowing comparison to every other fighter."
Nicholas produced a parchment, carefully lettered in the ink from a quill pen:
Captain Maximilian Schwarzkopf:
Leadership ability: 8
Fighting skill: 5
Attacks: 3
Quickness: 4
Power: 4
Defence: 4
Speed: 4
Wounds: 4
Armour save: Full plate armour, +4
Weapons: 2 handed broadsword, +2 power, strikes last. pistol.
Special abilities: Stubbornness for Schwarzkopf and any unit that he joins. Able to command up to battalion strength units.
Experience: 1,205,097
Mount: Barded warhorse, +2 armour save
Captain Schwarzkopf was clearly taken aback by the parchment rendering of his own military abilities. Although he had yet to comprehend the full importance of each of the numbers rendered, he did have an idea that his entire 40 year career as a soldier was being represented by these few numbers on a page of parchment. Could this actually be the breakthrough idea that would turn the military fortunes of the 427th battalion?
"Do you also have pages for enemy units and commanders, Nicholas?" he asked, after several moments of contemplation. The wind rustled the canvas fabric of the military tent.
"Indeed I do, sir," answered the dishevelled cook's assistant.
"Have you ever before shown these parchments to anyone else?" asked the battalion commander.
"I have not, sir," was the reply.
"Then I think that we can say that your days as a cook in the mess tent have come to an end, young Nicholas. From now on, your meals will be cooked for you. I shall make you my second aide, and promote you to the provisional rank of Third Lieutenant. First Lieutenant Hartmann! Would you be so kind as to prepare the paperwork for officer Meyer's promotion! He and I need to get to work!"
Yes, sir!" replied the Captain's aide.
"Oh, and Lieutenant," continued Captain Schwarzkopf, as he cast a displeased glance at the current state of the clothing worn by the former stew pot server. "Could you also procure a proper officer's uniform for our newly minted staff member? One that meets the standards of an officer of the Flying Eagles battalion!"
"I will indeed, sir!" replied Erich Hartmann.
Those issues being dealt with, Captain Schwarzkopf turned back towards officer Meyer and said, "I would very much like to view the rest of your parchments, Herr Nicholas".
