The Prussia of The South - A Portuguese TL

[unprincipled peter]

I knew Carlotta tried during the War of Oranges. didn't know she tried again a couple years later.

Joao is an enigma. he was genius at times, and completely inept at others. Why the heck he put up with Carlotta is beyond me, although she did afford a little bit of protection from her father.

anyhow, didn't mean to dump on your TL. I've done quite a bit of daydreaming on Brazil, so I'm interested to see how things turn out.

 

[KarneeKarnay]

Great start. Can't wait for more.

 

[Karolus Rex]

great chapters!

Thank.

I knew Carlotta tried during the War of Oranges. didn't know she tried again a couple years later.

Joao is an enigma. he was genius at times, and completely inept at others. Why the heck he put up with Carlotta is beyond me, although she did afford a little bit of protection from her father.

anyhow, didn't mean to dump on your TL. I've done quite a bit of daydreaming on Brazil, so I'm interested to see how things turn out.

You are right Joao was a complete enigma and I think he only put up with his wife because if he didn't it could endanger the Portuguese-Spanish relations.

And don't worry about dumping on the TL or mocking my country. Your questions were correct and anyone could have them.

About the mocking Portugal.

That is a national sport here so I dare you to mock us more than we mock ourselves .

Great start. Can't wait for more.

Thanks .

 

[unprincipled peter]

make sure you tweak/snub Britain.

they were about as bad a friend to Portugal as anyone could be. I don't have any iron in the fire, and it's always annoyed me how much Britain was a douche to Portugal.

 

[miguelrj]

I do not particularly like military history but the effects of a more successful military Portugal in this time-frame caught my attention.

Surprise, surprise: it's been very enjoyable to read, keep it up!

 

[miguelrj]

I just remembered: with your PoD you can easily butterfly away the untimely, sudden and circumstantial death of the Admiral Marquis of Nisa...

 

[Karolus Rex]

make sure you tweak/snub Britain.

they were about as bad a friend to Portugal as anyone could be. I don't have any iron in the fire, and it's always annoyed me how much Britain was a douche to Portugal.

I will try, but let me put this on the Brits.

When your only neighbor is a big, bad bully even a douche like GB looks like an amazing ally (if you manage to ignore the amount of time their help managed to screw us they were amazing allies).

I do not particularly like military history but the effects of a more successful military Portugal in this time-frame caught my attention.

Surprise, surprise: it's been very enjoyable to read, keep it up!

Glad you are enjoying it.

I just remembered: with your PoD you can easily butterfly away the untimely, sudden and circumstantial death of the Admiral Marquis of Nisa...

Thanks for this info.

I will admit my lack of knowledge about the Marquis of Nisa.

My favorite topics were always more on the army component of the wars, so I easily forget about the navy.

And I might just do as you say.

A Portugal with both an efficient army and navy, and with both being lead by competent officers (a scenario that, at least in my view, that by the way isn't very patriotic, would be a miracle ), the outcome of the war would be very interesting.

 

[Ricard (i.e. Rdffigueira)]

make sure you tweak/snub Britain.

they were about as bad a friend to Portugal as anyone could be. I don't have any iron in the fire, and it's always annoyed me how much Britain was a douche to Portugal.

During the Napoleonic Wars they did saved the ass of the Portuguese Royal Family, by shipping them to Brazil when the French troops invaded. And they arguably "liberated the country" (I really don't like using those kind of terms, but anyway...), I'm not sure the Portuguese alone, even waging guerrila warfare, could expel the French.

But overall I agree with your point. The UK shamelessly cut Portugal's hopes regarding the "pink map" proposal (annexing every land between Angola and Mozambique) in the late 19th century, and it infuriated the Portuguese population. Pure douchebaggery.

It's fair that Portugal may rise to greatness if Britain is too feeble to interfere in its matters, specially considering the UK's overseas policy affected the development of Latin American colonies.

On-topic, that's a very interesting TL you have here Karolus Rex, I have a soft spot for Portuguese histories. Keep up the good work!

 

[Karolus Rex]

Once again many thanks to Unknown for correcting the original text.

*****

First Battle of Elvas

(September 28 - 1 October, 1806)

Part Two​

Lecor took his spyglass and turned it to the enemy in front of him.

He had forced the Spaniards to retreat the last time they tried to cross the river but, now, he could see movement on the roads and that could only meant one thing.

Artillery.

And, by the look of it, they had at, the very least, two batteries and, most likely, more. That meant a minimum of eight guns.

For a moment, he was tempted to curse, but he restrained himself. The Spanish guns might be arriving, but the day was almost setting and they would only be useful in the morning so, in the end, he had gained a day.

A day for his own guns to arrive.

But the huge pieces would take a long time to arrive, even if he forced the militias to drag them here during the night.

Something he wouldn't dare to do, for the militia wasn't famous for being the most careful of soldiers.

He had to think of a way to neutralize this new threat for, even with artillery support, his infantry would be cut to pieces, with no place to hide from either solid or grape shot.

At least one thing was going well.

The enemy was obviously preparing to camp for the night, so there would be no more attacks. Lecor might have enjoyed if they attack once again, but he doubted that, after the bloody nose he had given them today, they would move so soon.

While seeing the rest of the Spanish camp, he noticed on that the enemy general, in his arrogance, had only positioned pickets facing the river! There were none facing the other positions.

His mind immediately began devising a plan.

A devilish plan that, if successful, would destroy the Spanish morale and part of their artillery.

A wolfish smile came to Lecor's face while he turned back to his camp.

Yes, he thought, now the Spanish will learn to fear us.

*****​

Lieutenant Colonel Anastácio Falé Ramalho, the commanding officer of the 8th Cavalry Regiment of the Portuguese Army, was passing between his men, to ensure that they were ready for what was coming.

They had been ordered by Colonel Lecor to cross the Caga river’s upper north and, then, to wait for the death of night, before doing a raid against the Spanish encampment, with the objective being their artillery and ammunition reserves.

Ramalho had done his best to ensure that all was done as discretely as possible.

And, now, he and his men were in position.

The Spanish were just a few miles to the south and, even from this distance, the bonfires in the camp were visible.

"Sargento-mor, order the man to follow behind me." he said to his second-in-command. "The sabers will remain in their scabbards, but I want all of them to be ready to charge at any minute, understood?"

"Yes, sir." the second-in-command said, before turning his horse to face the other officer, and to pass on the colonel's orders.

Without waiting, the colonel made his horse advance. At this moment, almost five hundred cavalrymen began to trot behind him.

The Portuguese cavalry was now going to show the arrogant Spaniards that, against Portuguese arms and steel, there was no salvation.

*****​

General Solano woke up, hearing the screams of his men.

Surprised by the shouting, he left his bed and ran out of his tent, only to find his men in uproar, while blue clothed cavalrymen were charging and killing everyone on sight.

While trying to understand what was happening, he heard one of the cavalrymen shouting to the others.

He was unable to hear everything, but he captured a vital word.

Canhões.

Cannons.

At hearing this, he cursed his stupidity. He had been so certain that the Portuguese wouldn't dare to attack him that he had only posted pickets near the riverbank and, now, he was paying for it, as more and more blue-clothed men charged to where the artillery was.

Solano tried to rally as many men as possible, but panic had spread among them as a fire spreads in a forest and, when the Portuguese on the other side of the river began to cross to form a line of muskets on the Spanish bank, no one was there to oppose them.

He was still trying to gather men when a huge explosion happened. In one moment, he was on his feet, shouting to the men to face the enemy and, in the next moment, he was on the floor, wondering why had God decided to abandon him and his men.

*****​

"Bugler, sound the retreat." ordered Colonel Ramalho.

At hearing the sound of the bugle, the men of the 8th began to retreat to where the infantry was guarding the crossing.

The attack had gone perfectly.

The men had been able to approach the enemy camp almost undetected. Had it not been for a moment of bad luck - a Spanish soldier that had left the camp to take a leak had seen them, forcing Ramalho to order a charge - the Spanish would have only found them after they blew their gunpowder into oblivion; of that, he was certain.

But sometimes fate (or God) intervened, and Ramalho had to admit that the cavalry charge had left the Spanish even more confused and in panic than anything he had hoped for.

In the midst of this, his men had nailed almost all of the Spanish twelve guns and had even managed to destroy part of their powder and ammunition.

That, combined with a fire that was beginning to spread among the tents, made him consider the raid a complete success.

While he passed by the infantry which, to Ramalho's surprise, was being commanded by Lecor himself, he begun to laugh, as he thought of the reaction in the European courts when they learned that a mere five hundred men, had dared to attack a full division and had gotten away with it.

*****​

Even after having almost no sleep during the night, Colonel Lecor still had enough energy to drag his staff into exhaustion.

The raid had been a success and he dared to bet that they had gained at least one more extra morning to bring the artillery.

But, even with this extra time, work still had to be done and he would be damned if he cared of what his staff thought.

Ammunition and to be brought from the fortress, messengers had to be sent to the militias guarding the other crossing to the south to ensure that he wasn't being flanked, men had to be sent to scout to the north, reports had to be written…the work of a field officer was endless.

But when he looked at the Spanish encampment, were the damage of last night raid were still visible, he allowed himself a moment of relinquish, before, once again, turning his back at the sight and beginning to shout orders to the officers near him.

The Spanish had been caught off guard, but they were still far from beaten.

*****​

Captain Patrick Ó Faoláin, of the 2nd Company of the Regimento Irlanda - Irish Regiment - of his Most Catholic Majesty's Army, ordered his men to advance, as the cannons behind him fired against their Portuguese foes.

It still confused Ó Faoláin that the Portuguese, fellow followers of the Catholic faith, decided to side with Protestant England. He had no problem in killing the Angles; that was one of the reasons why he had to leave his native Ireland but, while he saw the blue-clothed men holding their ground despite the cannon fire, he wondered if there was any point in this.

Why don't they just give up? he thought.

In Patrick's mind, all the Portuguese had to do was to abandon the heretics and then join their fellow Catholic brothers, in destroying the British tyrants. It never occurred to him, that the same hate the Irish had for England, the Portuguese had for Spain and, if he did, it mattered little to him.

After all, if they weren't going to join peacefully, they would join by force of arms if needed.

As he and the rest of the men of the regiment begun to cross the river, the Portuguese opened fire.

This would be the hard part for the Spanish vanguard.

They would be crossing the river with water up to their chests, and would be unable to stop to fire back at the enemy. Many would die in the crossing, but the remainder would be ready to return the welcome they were receiving from their Portuguese hosts.

As he saw the hand of fear in the faces of the men of the other regiments, Patrick was filled with outrage. They were cowards who only wished to be far away from the fighting and back at the barracks. If only the army had more Irishmen, he had no doubt that the Portuguese would have already been routed.

When they were near the other bank, he ordered his men move faster so that they could return fire but, the moment he stepped on to the other bank, Patrick felt something hit his chest; his legs failed him and, so, he fell into the river.

Patrick Ó Faoláin, an Irish exile and officer in his Most Catholic Majesty’s Army, was dead, with a Portuguese bullet in his chest.

*****​

Sargento-mor Luis de Moura, commanding officer of the 2º Battalion and now temporary commander of the 5th of the Line, was impressed with the his Spanish foe.

Even after they had gone through, they were still willing to attack, even if their officers didn't came up with the most inventive of tactics.

He counted at least four regimental flags in the middle of the men. He did a quick count, and estimated that the Spanish sent as many as three thousand men but, with them, it was always hard to guess how many men they had, given that some of their regiments could be considered little more than big companies.

de Moura was so embroiled in his thoughts, that he almost didn't noticed the regimental surgeon approaching him.

"How is he?" de Moura asked.

The surgeon took a deep breath before answering.

"He isn't well. The colonel is an old man and I fear that cutting off his leg might not save him, but it's all in God's hands now."

de Moura felt sad at hearing this. Colonel de Brincken was a good man, always caring about his officers and soldiers, always putting their needs in front of his own. He had not even cared when Colonel Lecor, a man half his age, had been given command of the brigade and had always tried to advise the young officer at the best of his ability. And, now, just a couple of months before his retiring ceremony, he was at the gates of death.

"You did your best, Gonçalo." he said to the surgeon. "It's not his fault. If anyone is to blame, it should be put at the hands of Napoleon and his Spanish dogs."

The surgeon could only nod. The colonel had always been fair with him, showing concern about the well-being of his family. For him and the other men of the regiment, the colonel had been more than an officer, he had been a father figure.

When the men had seen him being brought down by a cannonball, they had been outraged and fired volley after furious volley against the Spanish.

After seeing the carnage his men were doing he, for a moment, felt pity.

But when he remembered the colonel's face, covered with blood, all he could feel was hate.

*****​

Lecor was seeing his men cut down the Spanish infantry in front of him, when he received word that the battalions of the 17th of the Line were running low on ammunition.

He cursed bitterly at this.

The ammunition, like the cannons, were still on the road, barely a mile away from the fighting.

Close, but not close enough.

As the men of the 5th were also asking for extra ammunition, he decided to gamble.

Until now, his gambles had paid off, and he couldn't just sit while the ammunition was being brought up. So he advanced to the battle line and ordered the regimental and battalion commanders to come to him.

"Men, we have no time to waste. The supplies are still too far away to be of any use and we have exhausted our ammunition reserves."

"Does that mean we are to retreat sir?" asked an officer of the 17th.

"No. You are to tell the men to ready bayonets. We are to expel them from the riverbank with cold steel."

At hearing this, many of the officers were surprised for a second but, then, dark grins came to their faces.

After all, a bayonet charge would be the last thing the enemy would expect.

*****​

The Spaniards had been caught off guard. But, despite that, they had fought well, and had died hard.

The bayonet charge had surprised them; in truth, it even surprised the attackers, but they had managed to hold for a while.

But there was no way to stop the men of the 5th from avenging their commanding officer.

They had repulsed the Spaniards, but losses on both sides had been great.

The river was red with blood and corpses filled the riverbank.

But not all the news had been bad.

Two regimental colors and one flag of the King of Spain had been captured.

And, when the cannons that had finally arrived from Elvas had gotten into position, the Spanish began to retreat to their encampment.

The second day of the Battle of Elvas had been a bloody and dreadful affair, but one that the Portuguese had won.

*****​

For all of you wondering Sargento-Mor, Sargent-Major in English, was the Portuguese rank equivalent to the modern Major. I decided to keep the old name, but in the future the rank name will change to the modern Major.

 

[Karolus Rex]

Well this took sometime to write .

For those of you wondering why I bothered to make three updated on a single battle the end will probably explain a little, but the next update will show the real reason .

Thanks to Unknown for the Edited Version.

*****​

First Battle of Elvas​

(September 28 - 1 October, 1806)​

Part Three​

As soldiers from both sides worked together to gather the bodies of their fallen comrades, de Moura wondered how did men that, just the day before, were fighting and killing each other could possibly work together in such a calm way.

But this was not the time for these kind of thoughts, he reminded himself.

The truce might hold for the morning or, at least, for as much time as needed for each side to recover the bodies of the fallen, but it was obvious that both sides were getting ready for another round of fighting. The weapons might be unloaded, but artillerymen were always near the cannons and the soldiers that were not occupied were playing with the ammunition in their pouches.

A false move and this could easily be, once again, transformed into a field of death.

*****​

"We could advance towards the north and flank them, sir" pointed out the Brigadier of the 3rd Grenadiers.

Before Solano could answer, Colonel Ruiz spoke.

"Why not send a small detachment to the north and another to the south? Say, some two thousand men to each side. That would leave us some three to four thousand men to ensure that the Portuguese stay in place, while we flank them."

While his officers shouted to each other, Solano wondered how it was possible that they were all so blind. Flanking would take too much time and, without cavalry to scout the terrain, how would the flankers know that they weren't marching into an ambush? Besides, flanking would take too much time. And time was something he didn't have.

He couldn't flank the Portuguese; that he knew. There were too many chances that they would just disappear during the night and would go back into the fortress of Elvas. And, with just his remaining cannons, he had no hope of capturing the city.

Not that the plan had ever been to use them to capture the city. The plans Godoy had made in Madrid were based on the idea that the Portuguese garrisons would surrender when they saw the might of the Spanish army. Some officers, especially Generals Castaños and Blake, had argued that the attacking forces should bring siege artillery, but most had ignored their advice.

But, now, there was nothing to do. He had to crush the Portuguese forces here, or he would be forced to prepare a siege of Elvas. A siege he now doubted his soldiers could win.

Seeing that his officers were still arguing, Solano shouted.

"CÁLLENSE, COÑO!"

The men immediately went silent. To hear your commanding officer shout was bad enough, but for Solano to shout and swear was because things were bad.

"We will not flank the enemy." When he saw that some were still willing to argue, he continued. "We don't have the time and they would most likely return to the fortress the moment they see movement. And, most importantly, we don't have the means to win a siege, and they know that. We don't even have the time to starve them out." Solano paused for a moment to allow them to understand. "So if we flank them, they will retreat and we can't win a siege. So, what option do we have left?"

The colonel of the Regiment of Savoy gave the answer.

"Sir, if we can't flank and we can't retreat, then we must attack."

"Exactly."

Finally, a man that isn't an idiot, thought the General.

"We still have the rafts we were going to use to allow the artillery to cross, so we will use them to allow the First Battalion of the Wallonians to cross and to make a spearhead on the other bank, while the artillery gives them support. Then, while the Portuguese fight them, the other Guard Battalions will cross by foot, followed by the men of the Light Brigade. The attack will be under the command of General Alfonso Ochoa and he will have the Grenadiers Brigade as a reserve. The rest of the army will stay here, but will be prepared to advance as soon as there is an opening in the Portuguese lines."

Solano looked at Ochoa, a hard man from Catalonia, but one he hopped would get the job done, before dismissing the officers.

*****​

General de Divisón Alfonso Ochoa, Knight of the Order of Santiago and officer in his Most Catholic Majesty's Army, looked at the men in front of him.

He had under his command the Guard, Grenadiers and Light Brigades, the elite units of the Division, numbering a total four thousand men. All of them had fought the men in front of them, so they knew what to expect.
Ochoa signaled the Brigade commanders to come near him. They all knew what to do, but it was better to ensure they knew how to do it.

"Brigadier Huerta, your Guards are to put as many men as possible in the rafts and to spearhead the river bank, while Brigadier D'Cruz will stay behind with the Light to give you support as soon as possible. Brigadier Sepúlveda will stay in reserve with his men. You know what to do; now, do it." The bluntness of the speech didn't surprise the officers in front of him. Ochoa wasn't a man known for his courtesy.

The men saluted Ochoa and went to their Brigades.

Four thousand men were preparing to storm the Portuguese position, and Ochoa would sooner root in hell than taste failure.

*****​

The Spanish attack was furious.

Their first attack had managed to create a spearhead in the bank and, despite the casualties the grape shot was having in their lines, they just kept on attacking.

Lecor had to give credit to the men in charge of the attack. He had expected an attack, but never with this intensity. The few cannons he had were being embroiled in a fight with their Spanish counterparts while trying to support the infantry.

The ground in front of the 5th of the Line was painted in blood and the 17th had lost too many men to the advancing Spaniards.
They had been caught off-guard and, now, were paying the price.

"Captain Mendonça, go to the militias and tell them to advance. Lieutenant de Silves, go to the artillery and tell them to aim at the infantry. Their orders are to ignore the enemy artillery."

Lecor didn't even notice the aides leaving. The moment he gave them the orders, his mind had already leapt into other matters.

We have to hold. If we manage to throw them back today, we win; if not…

*****

Lieutenant-Colonel Henrique Esteves of the 1st Battalion of the 17th of the Line, was desperate.

His men were fighting like lions, but the enemy was too many.

They had repulsed the first two attacks and the second was only repulsed with the aid of the militias but, now, more Spanish troops were crossing the river.

The only good thing in the middle of all of this was that the Spanish cannons had stopped firing an hour ago. But, while he saw line after line of Spanish soldiers beginning the crossing, he wondered if that small blessing would do any good.

Half of the men of his battalion were unable to keep on fighting and the rest of the units of the brigade were in no better state. Most of the men were walking wounded, with their blue jackets stained with blood.

This will be the last assault, he thought.

The fighting had taken almost the entire afternoon and, now, the sun was preparing to give way to the moon. Unless the Spanish would try a night attack, this would be their last chance to capture the riverbank.

Esteves said a silent prayer to God and the Virgin Mary, before going back to the front rank of the Battalion.

"First rank, kneel." The wounded men of the first rank all went to their knees, with their muskets ready to fire.

"Second rank, lean." One hundred musket-armed men leaned forward, giving the men behind them space to aim and fire their muskets.

"Third rank, at the ready."

Seeing that every man in the battalion was ready to fire, the Colonel waited for the enemy to come into musket range.

The moment the first line of Grenadiers steeped their riverbank, he gave the order to fire.

"First rank, fire."

As the Spanish fell, more advanced, passing over the bodies of their fallen comrades.

"Second rank, fire."

Blood was now being spilled by the Portuguese soldiers,as the Spanish soldiers begun to fire back, but the men of the first rank were reloading furiously, trying to get their muskets ready for another shot as soon as possible, as the men behind them fired their own muskets.

"Third rank, fire."

More Spaniards fell, as the lead bullets found their targets. But they just kept going, determined to win this fight.

"Battalion, fire by ranks."

As he shouted orders, Esteves prayed that the men didn't notice his fear. He never considered himself a brave man, but a Colonel wasn't allowed to show fear.

An officer had to go to where the fighting was fiercer.

And Esteves would do just that.

*****​

Lecor was feeling fear.

And that wasn't usual in him.

But, now, seeing another advance from the Spaniards, he could not help but think that his men would break.

Yes, they had been fighting like lions for three days now. But the fatigue was getting to them and he would not blame them if they felt fear as they saw the enemy advancing.

"Lieutenant. Orders to the artillery." he shouted to one of his, surviving, aides. "Tell them to use double-shot and if they refuse tell them, I don't care if the guns may blow up, they are to fire until the enemy is broken."

Lecor then turned to his other aide, a eighteen-year old Second-Lieutenant whose father was a friend of his.

"Go to the reserves, and tell Major Costa that he is to form at the left of the line."

As both men left his side to go carry out to his orders, Lecor said a small prayer to God that what he was about to do would be enough.

*****​

Captain João Delgado of the Royal Artillery was speechless when the orders came.

He had warmed Lecor about the dangers of the double-shot, but the man had, apparently, decided to ignore him.

If he had a full team of good artillerymen, he would have no problem using the grape and solid shots combined, but all he had was some ten good men and the rest were volunteers from the militias.

Well, orders were orders and, even if he didn't like them, he had to follow them.

"All guns prepare double-shot."

As he gave the orders, he saw his men trying to tell the eager militiamen how to prepare the gun.

"Sir, all the guns are loaded." said Lieutenant Campos.

"You know what to do."

The Lieutenant nodded and turned to take command. Campos was a good officer, inexperienced, but an able man.

"Raise the guns two degrees; we want to hit the Spanish not our men."
As the guns were raised and ready to fire, a strange silence felt. This was the moment of truth. If everything was done correctly, the guns would rain a deadly combination of shot and grape into the Spanish lines but, if there had been any mistake…

They were all ready for him to give the final order.

"Fire!"

*****​

General Ochoa was wounded.

He had crossed the river with the reserves, leading the men from the front to ensure that the enemy would finally break.

The ground in front of the Portuguese was filled with the corpses of the dead and wounded, and not even the arrival of more men would stop him from achieving his goal.

But something happened.

He heard a thunder like sound and he felt something hitting his leg.

Ochoa quickly understood what had happened. When the Portuguese guns had stooped firing he had thought that they had run out of ammunition, like his own guns.

But it had been a decoy. One that had just cost him a leg, when an iron ball had hit him.

As he lay in the ground bleeding, he tried to give orders to the men around him.

But the men were wavering.

They had tasted too much defeat on the last two days and, now, with iron raining from the guns, they were breaking.

He saw men throwing their muskets away and running to the river.

As more and more men passed throw him, running away from the fight, Ochoa cursed bitterly.

He had just lost this fight.

*****​

The third day of the First Battle of Elvas was a day of iron and blood.

Almost two thousand Spanish and some six hundred Portuguese died that afternoon, making it the bloodiest day of the battle.

In the end, the Spanish General, Solano, was forced to go back to Badajoz in infamy, having lost some five thousand men between dead, wounded and captured.

Having lost some fifteen hundred men from his force of forty-five hundred men, Lecor was considered a hero for having faced a force twice his size and ending in victory. As a reward, Colonel Lecor earned the rank of Field-Marshal in the Portuguese Army. The British equivalent to that rank was Major-General.

The victory is also considered a mark in Portuguese history.

While not a huge victory, like the Battle of Madrid and, also, not having ended in a bloodbath, like the Battle of Coimbra, the First Battle of Elvas marked the day the Portuguese Army would begin its rise to glory.

The battle proved that von der Goltz’s reforms had paid off and would also become a black mark in Spain and France.

Some even say that the Battle of Elvas changed the fate of the Napoleonic Wars.

 

[Count of Crisco]

Excellent update to a superb time line .Usually you don`t see a TL with a strong Portugal as the POD .And aside from the few grammar mistakes (not nearly as bad as some of my classmates who I swear have the reading ability of a six year old .)I love how the TL reads as a conversation most of the time .It makes it very pleasant to read and tells details that other TL would miss otherwise .
I do wonder though with all improvement of the army king Joao has done how the navy feels .Are they undergoing a similar series of changes ?Or are they following the same path as OTL ?
Keep up the good work

 

[miguelrj]

Can't wait to see how this turns out.
As for the grammar, most of the mistakes look like just autospell problems
I mean, words that are completely out of place but changing a letter or two it's usually the right word. Are you using any automatic spelling correcting program?

 

[Karolus Rex]

Excellent update to a superb time line .Usually you don`t see a TL with a strong Portugal as the POD .And aside from the few grammar mistakes (not nearly as bad as some of my classmates who I swear have the reading ability of a six year old .)I love how the TL reads as a conversation most of the time .It makes it very pleasant to read and tells details that other TL would miss otherwise .
I do wonder though with all improvement of the army king Joao has done how the navy feels .Are they undergoing a similar series of changes ?Or are they following the same path as OTL ?
Keep up the good work

Can't wait to see how this turns out.
As for the grammar, most of the mistakes look like just autospell problems
I mean, words that are completely out of place but changing a letter or two it's usually the right word. Are you using any automatic spelling correcting program?

Thank you both for the comments .

The navy went pretty much like in OTL, except that the Marquee of Nisa survived in this TL (thanks for that info miguelrj ) and will be an important player in the naval theater of the war. Another change was the building of a Naval Academy in Rio, at the same time the Royal War Academy of Brazil was constructed

About the grammatical mistakes.

I will be honest, as a proud member of the sons of Lusus, I write the original text in Portuguese and then I do a translation to English. Well sometimes, many times actually, I rush the translation (for lack of time to do a good one). The mistakes are mostly because of that and lack of time to review the text.

As the semester ends next week, I will have time to review the translations (and to do a V2 of An Age of Iron and Rust) and the grammar quality should improve (I hope).

 

[Karolus Rex]

Sorry about the lack of updates but real life had given me two weeks of exams every single day (yes including Saturdays).

Thanks to Unknown for the edited version of the original text.

*****

War, Politics and Diplomacy​

Napoleon Bonaparte, Emperor of the French, King of Italy, Protector of the Confederation of the Rhine, and Lord of any other titles he decided to impose on himself, was surprised.

Surprised to see his Minister of Foreign Affairs, Charles de Talleyrand, in Berlin.

Despite knowing that he held the Imperial crown thanks to Talleyrand's support, it never stopped Napoleon from distrusting his Minister of Foreign Affairs.

"Talleyrand, I am surprised to see you here. I thought that you preferred your wars in the comfort of Paris, not in the rugged tent of a common soldier."

Talleyrand, always the diplomat, ignored the mockery of the men in front of him and greeted his Emperor. He had never liked Napoleon, a fact that he always kept close to his heart, and had only offered him his support for the leadership because the Republic was destined to fall apart and France needed a strong leader to guide her.

A leader guided by him, of course.

And, as such, the fact that Napoleon continued to destroy all his efforts to maintain the status quo in Europe deeply annoyed him.

"My Emperor, I am afraid I didn't just make this trip to see you in all your military glory after defeating the enemies of France." As he put his hand into the pocket in his coat, he thought of all those enemies who would have no need to attack France if the Corsican just did as he asked. "News has arrived from Spain and I think you would want to hear it straight away."

As the Emperor opened the dispatch he had just given him, Talleyrand could not help but be a little amused. He knew the contents of the letter and could not wait to see the reaction of the Corsican.

This was a reaction that didn't take much time to appear.

"THE SPANISH LOST?" shouted Bonaparte. "Those idiots lost almost ten thousand men against Portugal. PORTUGAL."

For a while, all the Emperor of the French could do was to curse. To curse the idiot Spanish generals that had been defeated twice in a role. To curse the dammed Portuguese that should know not to stand against him.

As the Corsican stood there wrapped in anger, one of his aide-de-camps entered the room with a package on his hands.

"Sire, this package has just arrived from Marshal Bernadotte…"

The Emperor didn't even allow the man to stop speaking; he just grabbed the package and forced it out of his hands.

As he read the report inside the package, Talleyrand could not avoid being intrigued as he saw the Emperor's face fall, once more, into rage.

This time he took a nearby vase and, in a rage, threw it against a wall.

"How could Bernadotte have allowed the Prussians to escape?" he shouted.

Then he turned to the aide.

"Go to Marshal Soult, he is to take his corps and march to Spain. Tell him he will receive further instructions on his way." Napoleon then turned to Talleyrand. "You are to go to the Russians and give them my peace terms."

*****​

"As you can see, sire, it would be most advantageous if we accept this terms."

As Talleyrand leaned forward in his chair, Alexander Pavlovich Romanov, Czar and Autocrat of All the Russias, took his time to study the man in front of him.

He had heard lots of things about the French Minister and, if half of those things were true, Talleyrand was to be as feared as his master. A former Bishop of the Catholic Church, he was known among his enemies as"le diable boiteu", or the lame devil.

But not even this Devil would convince him to accept these terms.

"My Lord Talleyrand, I am afraid that these terms are too harsh. Napoleon must understand that my army his on the field in greater numbers than ever before and, now, with the Portuguese having entered the war, your emperor has just found himself another front on the other side of Europe. Bonaparte can't possibly expect to win two wars at the same time."

"Sire, the Portuguese will be dealt with by the Spanish. No French arms will be needed on the Peninsula. So, once again, I must…"

As the Czar singled for an aide to bring him a report, Talleyrand fell silent.

"It is interesting that you said that, Lord Talleyrand; according to my information, the Spanish were defeated in two battles and were forced to go back to their territories." As he pretended to reread the document, Talleyrand wondered how the Czar could have already found out about that. "This is impressive enough but, now, one of my men reports that the Portuguese are besieging the fortress of Badajoz and that the British have promised to send an army to the Peninsula. So tell me, how will the Emperor of the French fight two wars at the same time?"

To avoid showing concern, the French ambassador signaled for one of the servants to bring him a cup of wine.

"Sire, the British are not to be trusted. I highly doubt they would dare to send one army to the continent and, besides, the Portuguese victories are nothing more than luck. Spain will win the war on the peninsula and, with the Prussians crushed, only Russia will stand against France."

"My Lord Talleyrand, this conversation is pointless. I can't and won’t accept these terms. A free Poland side by side with Holy Russia? I will never accept that. The terms offered to Prussia are too harsh and, with Austria being forbidden from rearming, I will continue this war to ensure the status quo."

As Talleyrand left the tent, Alexander spoke to him one last time.

"Tell your master that, if needed, Russia will fight alone."

*****​

Karl-Alexander von der Goltz, the Marshal General of the Portuguese forces, stood in awe as he saw the huge fortress city of Badajoz. Behind him were almost two thousand men of the Royal Guard, all of them members of the Hunter Regiments.

He had come to bring reinforcements to the siege and to discuss with Marshal du Houx, the plans to the current campaign.

With the division in the north besieging Ciudad Rodrigo and the division in the center here trying to capture Badajoz, the only Portuguese forces not engaged were the south and guard divisions. And they had to decide were those two forces were going to attack.

As he entered the camp, he told Brigadier Silveira to take care of his men while he went to the command tent.
He found the Marshal on the outside, near a table where several maps of the area were spread, while some of the senior members of his staff surrounded him.

"Marshal der Goltz, I didn't know you would come so fast." said du Houx when he saw the Prussian approaching.

"I am afraid, Marshal du Houx, that my haste wasn't just to enjoy your company. We have much to discuss and not enough time to do it."

Du Houx, understanding the message turned to his officers and told them to go back to their units. Then he signaled the Marshal to enter the tent while ordering an aide to bring them some refreshments.

As the two men sat near a table where maps of Portugal and Spain were spread and drinking wine du Houx, begun to notice that the Marshal looked older than the last time he had seen him.

"How is the Secretary of War? Has he recovered?"

"He isn’t well. One day he is well and, on the other…" von der Goltz look distressed while he spoke. "The Prince is thinking of appointing another man to the office."

"Who?"

"Right now, either General Forjaz or the Count of Linhares will be the War Secretary, and the Prime Minister, the Count of Barca, will be in charge of Foreign Affairs."

"Who do you think will be better to take over the post of War Secretary?"

Von der Goltz thought for a while before giving an answer.

"Forjaz is too British for my taste, but Linhares is a fool. It is better for it to be Forjaz, since he has the support of both sides and he understands the need of continuing the current reforms, even if he doesn't like then." He sighed. "But that's enough of politics; we must plan the upcoming campaign."

He rose and approached a map of Spain.

"Field Marshal Luís Castro, has reported that Ciudade Rodrigo will most likely fall before winter. Field Marshal Champalimaud is advancing with the south division to the border and the Guards are being sent to all divisions, with one brigade of Guards per division."

He then pointed to Cadiz.

"The Spanish have a full division here and another one in Seville. In the north, their forces, under Blake, are preparing to advance, but there isn't one good road in this area, and Castro expects the navy to block the rivers. In Braganza and Chaves, two militia brigades are being retrained as Line regiments and will protect this area."

"What about this area here, sir?" asked du Houx. "My division is too far south to give them protection."

"Like in the north, militias are being retrained."

"What about the British?"

"From what their ambassador says, a force of thirty thousand men, under the command of Lieutenant General Sir John Moore, is being prepared to invade Spain and they will disembark in Corunna."

"What do you think Napoleon will do?"

"He has his hands full with the Russians. With some luck, Austria will join and they will force Napoleon to stay in Germany for at least another year." Pain was evident in von der Goltz’s voice. After all, his nation was now under occupation. "It will give us enough time to capture this two fortresses and, with them in our control, an advance against Madrid, if the British bring enough men."

"A bold strategy, sir."

"Indeed." He agreed. "But, in war, much must be risked if we are to win."

*****​

Sir John Moore, commanding officer of the British Expeditionary Force in the Iberian Peninsula, looked at his second-in-command with some surprise.

He had been pushed by his brothers into this assignment and, in the beginning, More had thought he would only be a bother, despite the reputation he had gained in India.

But the young Wellesley had proven himself a good officer and More had rewarded him with the command of a division.

But he had not expected the victor of Assaye to get seasick.

"I guess I know now why you didn't join the Navy."

"A man’s place is on land, not on this Godforsaken barge." Wellesley muttered.

More could not avoid a laugh at this tirade. He had never suffered from seasickness, but he had seen many men suffer from it during his voyage to the Americans in the War of the Thirteen Colonies.

Luckily for Wellesley, this trip would be much shorter. They were bringing almost thirty thousand soldiers to invade the Spanish city of Corunna and, then, they would move south to link up with the Portuguese near Zamora.

*****​

Field-Marshal in the Portuguese Army at the time is the modern Major-General.

 

[Karolus Rex]

Merry Christmas from Portugal to France

Also: new update tomorrow.​

 

[Karolus Rex]

Sorry for the delay on the update. I said I would have him on Christmas day but real life got on the way and then I went to spend new year's eve in Lisbon and before I knew it I hadn't still hadn't finish this.

Another problem was that I couldn't decide on what to put on this update so I ended writing five different chapters (One in brasil, another in the USA, one in China and two on the peninsula) all of which I will use on another updates.

So without more delay here is the update.

Thanks to Unknown for the edited version of the original text.

*****

Scotland Forever

The Death of Sir John Moore


A drum was heard, and funeral note,
As his corse to the rampart we hurried;
A soldier discharged his farewell shot
O'er the grave where our hero we buried.

We buried him grimly on a sunny day,
The sods with our bayonets turning,
With the struggling men weeping,
And the day dimly burning way.

No useless coffin enclosed his breast,
Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him;
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest
With his martial cloak around him.

Many and long were the prayers we said,
But we spoke not a word of sorrow;
For we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead,
And we bitterly thought of the morrow.

We thought, as we hollow'd his narrow bed
And smooth'd down his lonely pillow,
That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,
And we far away on the billow!

Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that 's gone,
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him—
But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on
In the grave where a Briton has laid him.

But half of our heavy task was done
When the clock struck the hour for advancing;
And we heard the distant and random gun
That the navy was sullenly firing.

Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone,
But we left him alone with his glory. ​

Poem written by an unknown Irish Soldier, in memory of Sir John Moore.​

Rear Admiral Sir Eliab Harvey stood on the deck of the 80-gun ship of the line Tonnant, as the landing party rower towards the port city of Corunna.

Almost two thousand marines and redcoats, under the command of Colonel Sir Thomas Graham, were going to storm the port, while the navy, under Sir Harvey, would offer them support.

Sir Harvey was looking towards the port, when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Sir Harvey, have you seen Sir John?"

"He said he would join the shore party." he said, without turning.

At hearing this, Major General Arthur Wellesley rushed forward and grabbed Sir Harvey's arm.

"He what, sir?"

Before answering, Admiral Harvey released his arm from Wellesley’s grip and told him to never do that again.

"As I told you, General Wellesley." said the Admiral in a lower voice. "Lieutenant General Sir John Moore went with Colonel Graham's shore party."

As Wellesley looked towards the boats rowing towards the port, he muttered, "You better not get yourself kill, sir."

*****​

John Moore, Lieutenant General of the British Army, commanding officer of the British Expeditionary Force to the Iberian Peninsula and Knight of the Most Honorable Military Order of the Bath, stood on the front of the rowing boat as they approached the harbor of Corunna.

He could see Spanish soldiers getting ready to fight off his redcoats, but he also knew they wouldn't dare to approach into firing range. For a full squadron of British ships lay in the harbor's mouth, with the 80-gun Tonnant at their head, all with their guns ready to shoot any opposition to ashes.

The moment the boats reached the harbor, Moore could feel the adrenaline pumping up.

This had been why he had joined the British Army.

Only here could he find the thrill of the fight. Only here could he experience the thrill of killing or getting killed.

He jumped from the boat into the harbor, sword in one hand and pistol on the other, while some marines followed him.

"Forward, men." he shouted.

As they moved forward, he saw Colonel Graham getting off his boat, urging his own men to press forward.

His mind didn't stay on Graham and his men for long.

Moore was everywhere in the battlefield.

At one moment, he was on the front line, encouraging the men to advance and, in the next moment, he was at the rear, speaking to the wounded, assuring them that they had done their duty and they had do it well.

As the marines and redcoats moved onwards and away from the protecting reach of the naval guns, the Spanish resistance began to harden. On many occasions, the redcoats would find them entrenched behind barricades, blocking every possible street, and putting men on the rooftop of the houses.

In the middle of this was Sir John.

He was leading an assault on a barricade when he heard a voice calling him from behind him. As he turned back to see who it was, he felt an acute pain on his side and felt to the ground.

All he heard before fainting was "Protect the General" and, then, all went dark.

*****​

As more men advanced towards the Spanish barricades, Thomas Graham, Colonel of the British Army and Knight of the Most Honourable Military Order of the Bath, couldn't help but be filled with pride as his Scottish countryman, Sir John Moore, stood right in front of the fighting, encouraging the men to advance.

Graham was completely devoted to the younger man.

As he moved to the front rank he saw a Spanish soldier appear on the top of one of the houses and, when he noticed him taking up his musket and aiming it at Sir John, Graham ran as fast as he could, but it wasn't fast enough.

"Sir John." he shouted desperately.

But it was all for nothing.

As John Moore turned to face Thomas Graham, a bullet pierced his chest and he fell, wounded, on the streets of Corunna.

Graham ran to the side of his fellow Scotsman and saw the work of the Spanish bullet. The small round piece of lead had hit him right on the stomach and, even though he was still alive, not many men would survive such a wound.

Desperately, Graham shouted at four men to help him bring Sir John to the harbor, where the ships’ doctors were trying to save as many men as they could.

As he arrived, he saw General Wellesley run to him.

"What the in the bloody hell is happening here, Graham?" he demanded. "Why I am hearing that Sir John is dead?"

"He ain't dead yet, sir, but, if we don't hurry, he might yet be."

At hearing this, Wellesley noticed the men behind Colonel Graham and rushed to the improvised litter where Sir John was being carried.

Noticing the blood on his shirt, Wellesley shouted at Doctor Jones, ordering him to come to his side immediately.

"No need to shout sir, my hearing is still working perfectly." said the good doctor when he arrived.

"No jest now, Doctor. The general is wounded and, if you don't work fast, he will die."

The doctor didn't have to hear any more than that. He ordered the soldiers to put their general on the ground, while Jones saw to his wound.

The few minutes looked like hours or days to both officers, that were desperately hoping that the general would live.

"I am afraid this wound is beyond my humble skills." he said grimly.

"What?"

"Sir John was hit in the liver." Doctor Jones told them. "He won't die now and all I can do is patch up his wound."

"You can surely do something." Graham's tone was desperate.

"Even if the bullet had gone through, I doubt I could save him and it didn't. It's stuck right on the liver, I’m afraid."

As he said those words, silence fell among them.

For Sir John Moore was going to die.

*****​

"Commander, you have your orders and you know what do." said Sir Eliab Harvey. "May you have a good trip to London."

As Commander Erickson left the Admiral's quarters, Sir Harvey turned to the other man on the room.

The Battle of Corunna had ended two days ago as a great British victory, but not even that had lifted the shadow that had fallen upon Sir Arthur.

Sir Harvey understood what the poor man was feeling; after all, he had grown fond of Sir John Moore during the trip to Spain. How could such a man end up being killed in such a way was something that he could not understand.

He had read the reports, of course.

How Sir John had been wounded by a sharpshooter and the way Sir Arthur had taken command after that.

By all accounts, the young Wellesley had behaved perfectly, leading the attack force to victory. And he had heard how, after the battle, he had rushed to Sir John's side.

He and Colonel Graham had been with him until the end, hearing him when he had woken up and how they promised to fulfill his last wish of being buried in here, next to the fallen British soldiers.

They stayed silent for a while, until Sir Harvey broke the silence.

"Who do you think they will appoint to take command?"

At hearing this, Wellesley shook his shoulder

"I don't know." he admitted. "Probably some idiot from Whitehall."

That last remark brought a small smile at Sir Harvey's lips. He knew very well the opinion Wellesley, and the late Sir John, had of the bureaucrats in Whitehall.

"Sir John would want you to take command." he stated.

"I am a just a Major General whose only experience is from India."

"Even so, most generals I meet in London have never fought a day in their lives,” he pointed out. "While you have fought quite well sometimes. I read about that battle in India, very well done if I might say."

Wellesley nodded.

"It might be so, sir, but I doubt even my brothers could give me this command."

Once again silence fell on the room as the two men were alone in their thoughts.

After a while, Sir Arthur took a watch from his pocket and signaled that it was time.

*****​

Sir Thomas Graham wept as he saw the body of Sir John Moore being placed in his grave.

He still couldn't believe that he had died.

As the redcoats around him fired blanks in honor of their fallen general, Graham was thinking of Sir John's last words to him.

"Do not weep for my demise, my friend." he had said to him. "Just promise me you will give her the letter."

Graham had promised. But how could he go there and just give her such a thing?

A letter was all she was going to receive and how sad that made Graham.

How many times had he heard Sir John speaking of proposing to her? How many times had he heard him speak of her as the light in his life?

And, now, he was dead, being buried on a grave in Spain, when he deserved to be in England with the women he loved.

How he wept for him and how he wept for Lady Hester.

 

[KarneeKarnay]

Just caught up. Loving this Time Line. Keep up the good work.

What are your eventual plans for Portugal?

A United Iberia under a Portuguese command or a surviving Portuguese Empire, with Brazil and others territories?

 

[Karolus Rex]

Just caught up. Loving this Time Line. Keep up the good work.

What are your eventual plans for Portugal?

A United Iberia under a Portuguese command or a surviving Portuguese Empire, with Brazil and others territories?

Good you are enjoying it .

This is a "Portugal doesn't screw up at every possible opportunity" TL so you will see Portugal being able to retain the Empire, but with a integration of Brazil as a core part of the empire instead of just one more colony.

Brazil will be very important in this TL with their relationship with Portugal being something like GB and Canada was during the 19th century. Brazil will have domestic powers but on international politics Rio will follow Lisbon.

Insted of a Portuguese Empire, the leaders will try to create a Lusitain identity, with Portuguese and Brazilian being part of the Lusitain people.

On the United Iberia thing I don't think is practical, but we will see a much more strong Iberian movement during the late 19th century.

 

[Karolus Rex]

Thanks to Unknown for editing my original text.

*****

The Wilkinson conspiracy​

Thomas Jefferson, the 3rd President of the United States of America, was outraged.

To think that two former officers of the Continental Army, two heroes of the war for independence, had conspired with the Spanish crown to take control of land in both Louisiana and Texas and create their own personal country should had been just a part of some kind of nightmare.

But, unfortunately for President Jefferson, it wasn't a nightmare.

It was reality.

Had it been just two former officers of war it would be bad enough, but having a former Vice-President and the current Senior Officer of the Army being the ones accused of this was horrible.

But it was not surprising.

Ever since that dreadful duel, Jefferson had begun to have some doubts about the temperament of his former Vice-President. After all, who would be stupid enough to put his political career on the line because of some slanders Hamilton had written?

Even so, Burr's stupid and treasonous activities had been a surprise for him.

Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said of Wilkinson.

The man had twice been forced to resign from the Continental Army, had almost been convicted for treason by a military court before the untimely death of the main accuser, General Wayne, and he had even tried to start his own personal war with France.

While the first could and, most likely, would be forgiven, especially for having come clean with that plan and throwing himself on his mercy, the second would cause Wilkinson to hang, as soon as the President could find enough evidence.

As Jefferson's rage faded away, he told a servant to call Vice-President Clinton and Aaron Burr to his office.

His head was cool now and he would need his help to ensure that that vile snake, Wilkinson, would end his career on the short end of a rope.

*****​

George Clinton, the 4th Vice-President of the United States of America and former Governor of New York, stood calm as his predecessor told his tale of treachery.

The President had already heard the tale but, for Clinton, this was the first time.

As Burr reached the end of the plot, Jefferson looked to him and asked his opinion.

"Well I am overwhelmed." he claimed, before turning to face Burr. "To think that a former Vice-President, of our nation, and our Senior Officer, would conspire against the nation they helped to create, is…" he left the sentence unfinished, lacking the strength to finish it.

After a pause to gather his thoughts, Clinton continued.

"But at least Mr. Burr came clean with his treason and I am sure he will do everything to provide us with proper evidence."

At hearing this, Burr demanded to know what Clinton was implying with that last remark.

"Is my word not good enough for you?" he demanded.

"And you expect us to put everything at risk with only your word as evidence?" asked Clinton. "It will be your word against that of General Wilkinson."

"I don't have just my word as evidence." claimed Burr.

Upon hearing this, the President demanded to know what more evidence he could provide.

"Wilkinson spoke several times of Spanish couriers and how he would meet them in a house in New Orleans."

"There are thousands of houses in New Orleans."

"But do many of those houses provide both gambling and whoring to rich white men, in a discreet way?" he asked with a smirk. "Find that house and you will find the evidence you need."

 

[Vornado]

Loving it!

Just caught up. Great TL!