Greater Franco-Prussia
21-12-2005, 10:21
Emperor Frederick Wilhelm, commander of the armies and ruler of the dominions of the Franks and of the Prussians, most high emperor before God and man, frowned at the parchment on his table. The new telegraphs kept him well appraised of the situation. It was, according to his generals, problematic, at least in Poland, where the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th, Armies were encountering heavy resistance, from Poles. He eyed the counters along the border with Switzerland. The dark clouds in the sky outside matched his mood. He wanted the Swiss out of his hair, but much of his army was tied up, invading Poland.
Wilhelm’s generals had urged that the ‘Rock of the Rhine’ division down to the Swiss Border. Reluctantly, Wilhelm had acceded to the suggestion, not wishing to provoke the Swiss, who were actually rather unhappy with him, because he had started a war, seeking to add Poland to his already formidable empire.
His forces nearly made it as far as a little town in Poland called Lubin, but they were meeting heavy resistance, and so would require time, time to make the breakthrough.
Strasbourg outside the Royal Palace
Duke Heinrich Bonaparte, the commander of the palace guard division, paced restlessly around the courtyard, once again concerning himself with the security arrangements of the Royal Palace, and of his Emperor, Frederick Wilhelm. He cursed the weather, cold and rainy as it was, it would make for an easier time for someone to attempt an infiltration of the capital.
The sergeant on duty guarding the gate of the palace paid little heed to the crowd of men that was gathering in down the cobbled street from his position, instead, cursing the rain, and how he would have to clean his Henry rifle, after he was off duty. Because of his ill attention, he failed to notice that the crowd down the street had begun to drift down his way, and its members had started to drift into an organized pattern.
The commander of the company of Swiss mercenaries assigned to take assault the gate of the wall around the Royal Palace, shouted an order to his troops. The flung aside ponchos, revealing Amsler-Milbank breech-loading carbines, brought them to their shoulders, and fired a ragged volley.
The sergeant had no chance to cry out. Three of the bullets ripped through his torso, and he slumped to the ground, the blood gushing from the wounds in his chest. The two privates on duty had managed to unshoulder their Henry rifles, and a firefight ensued, giving several more of the Prussian troopers time to rush out of the guardhouse, and open fire with their rifles.
The air in the street around the gate began to fill up with smoke from the black powder of the weapons of the soldiers involved, rapidly reducing the view of the soldiers. The Swiss mercenaries began to take advantage of the situation to rush forward.
The soldiers of the Palace Guard division kept up a steady fire with their repeating rifles, sending a flurry of bullets wherever they spotted movement.
The smoke in the square worked both ways, and a group of four of the Swiss mercenaries had managed to work their way up to the gate in the outer wall, one of the soldiers reached into a satchel and produced a grenade; it wasn’t much, merely an iron cannonball filled with gunpowder and shot. One of his compatriots produced a sulfur match, struck it, and applied the flame to the fuse on the grenade, which was then tossed, by the first soldier into the gate.
Seconds later, the grenade exploded, sending fragments ricocheting around the inside the archway. The Swiss mercenaries seized the opportunity, and rushed the entrance to the compound. The company of mercenaries left ten men lying in the street. When the Swiss charged the gate, they found seven of the troopers of the palace guard.
Guard Barracks, Royal Palace
Duke Heinrich Bonaparte had rushed over to the guard barracks when he’d heard the first shots from the archway. He drew his modified 1858 Remington revolver, and prepared to lead the first group of men to defend the gate. Unfortunately, before more than a few of the troopers could join him, nearly a company of the Swiss mercenaries had carried the gate, and were laying disciplined volleys of fire onto the barracks. What they needed was some more firepower, the Gatling guns that had just been assigned to the Palace Guard Division.
One of the Gatling guns came up, its carriage propelled by horses. The crew hastily separated the gun from the caisson, the horses were pulling, and shoved it around so that the deadly muzzles bore on the gate. One of the crew members fell, hit from a bullet from one of the Swiss rifles, but the others reacted in a well disciplined manner, one man fetching ammunition, then fitting the feeder to the weapon, and the other turning the crank of the weapon. Flame, smoke, and the deadly bullets for which the Gatling was renowned began to take toll on the Swiss mercenaries.
Then a second Gatling arrived and deployed in much the same manner as the first, and began to spew its bullets into the gateway as well. Under the combined onslaught from the Gatlings, and the soldiers which, not under the suppression of the Swiss, had begun to pour from the barracks, the mercenaries began to retreat out of the gate.
Royal Palace, Strasbourg
Emperor Frederick Wilhelm cursed the Swiss. Their mercenaries had invaded his capital, killed his forces, and trespassed on his nation’s territory. He looked to the commander of the 1st ‘Fatherland’ Army, Feldmarschall Erich von Studt.
Von Studt was delivering a lecture about how they could ill afford to call the landwehr to battle to invade the homeland of the Swiss.
Wilhelm nodded. “What about hiring Swiss mercenaries to stage a coup against their monarchy? They, after all, did the same to us.”
Von Studt shook his head. “No. The best alternative that I can suggest to you, sire, is a total ban on travel to and from Switzerland, and that you place one of the fortification divisions on the border with Switzerland, and call up the First Landwehr to bolster their numbers.”
Wilhelm stood up from behind his desk. “See that it is done then,” he ordered the Feldmarschall.
Von Studt clicked his heels and saluted. “Yes, my emperor.”
OOC: This is something of an alternate history that I am writing for fun.
Wilhelm’s generals had urged that the ‘Rock of the Rhine’ division down to the Swiss Border. Reluctantly, Wilhelm had acceded to the suggestion, not wishing to provoke the Swiss, who were actually rather unhappy with him, because he had started a war, seeking to add Poland to his already formidable empire.
His forces nearly made it as far as a little town in Poland called Lubin, but they were meeting heavy resistance, and so would require time, time to make the breakthrough.
Strasbourg outside the Royal Palace
Duke Heinrich Bonaparte, the commander of the palace guard division, paced restlessly around the courtyard, once again concerning himself with the security arrangements of the Royal Palace, and of his Emperor, Frederick Wilhelm. He cursed the weather, cold and rainy as it was, it would make for an easier time for someone to attempt an infiltration of the capital.
The sergeant on duty guarding the gate of the palace paid little heed to the crowd of men that was gathering in down the cobbled street from his position, instead, cursing the rain, and how he would have to clean his Henry rifle, after he was off duty. Because of his ill attention, he failed to notice that the crowd down the street had begun to drift down his way, and its members had started to drift into an organized pattern.
The commander of the company of Swiss mercenaries assigned to take assault the gate of the wall around the Royal Palace, shouted an order to his troops. The flung aside ponchos, revealing Amsler-Milbank breech-loading carbines, brought them to their shoulders, and fired a ragged volley.
The sergeant had no chance to cry out. Three of the bullets ripped through his torso, and he slumped to the ground, the blood gushing from the wounds in his chest. The two privates on duty had managed to unshoulder their Henry rifles, and a firefight ensued, giving several more of the Prussian troopers time to rush out of the guardhouse, and open fire with their rifles.
The air in the street around the gate began to fill up with smoke from the black powder of the weapons of the soldiers involved, rapidly reducing the view of the soldiers. The Swiss mercenaries began to take advantage of the situation to rush forward.
The soldiers of the Palace Guard division kept up a steady fire with their repeating rifles, sending a flurry of bullets wherever they spotted movement.
The smoke in the square worked both ways, and a group of four of the Swiss mercenaries had managed to work their way up to the gate in the outer wall, one of the soldiers reached into a satchel and produced a grenade; it wasn’t much, merely an iron cannonball filled with gunpowder and shot. One of his compatriots produced a sulfur match, struck it, and applied the flame to the fuse on the grenade, which was then tossed, by the first soldier into the gate.
Seconds later, the grenade exploded, sending fragments ricocheting around the inside the archway. The Swiss mercenaries seized the opportunity, and rushed the entrance to the compound. The company of mercenaries left ten men lying in the street. When the Swiss charged the gate, they found seven of the troopers of the palace guard.
Guard Barracks, Royal Palace
Duke Heinrich Bonaparte had rushed over to the guard barracks when he’d heard the first shots from the archway. He drew his modified 1858 Remington revolver, and prepared to lead the first group of men to defend the gate. Unfortunately, before more than a few of the troopers could join him, nearly a company of the Swiss mercenaries had carried the gate, and were laying disciplined volleys of fire onto the barracks. What they needed was some more firepower, the Gatling guns that had just been assigned to the Palace Guard Division.
One of the Gatling guns came up, its carriage propelled by horses. The crew hastily separated the gun from the caisson, the horses were pulling, and shoved it around so that the deadly muzzles bore on the gate. One of the crew members fell, hit from a bullet from one of the Swiss rifles, but the others reacted in a well disciplined manner, one man fetching ammunition, then fitting the feeder to the weapon, and the other turning the crank of the weapon. Flame, smoke, and the deadly bullets for which the Gatling was renowned began to take toll on the Swiss mercenaries.
Then a second Gatling arrived and deployed in much the same manner as the first, and began to spew its bullets into the gateway as well. Under the combined onslaught from the Gatlings, and the soldiers which, not under the suppression of the Swiss, had begun to pour from the barracks, the mercenaries began to retreat out of the gate.
Royal Palace, Strasbourg
Emperor Frederick Wilhelm cursed the Swiss. Their mercenaries had invaded his capital, killed his forces, and trespassed on his nation’s territory. He looked to the commander of the 1st ‘Fatherland’ Army, Feldmarschall Erich von Studt.
Von Studt was delivering a lecture about how they could ill afford to call the landwehr to battle to invade the homeland of the Swiss.
Wilhelm nodded. “What about hiring Swiss mercenaries to stage a coup against their monarchy? They, after all, did the same to us.”
Von Studt shook his head. “No. The best alternative that I can suggest to you, sire, is a total ban on travel to and from Switzerland, and that you place one of the fortification divisions on the border with Switzerland, and call up the First Landwehr to bolster their numbers.”
Wilhelm stood up from behind his desk. “See that it is done then,” he ordered the Feldmarschall.
Von Studt clicked his heels and saluted. “Yes, my emperor.”
OOC: This is something of an alternate history that I am writing for fun.