The Prussia of The South - A Portuguese TL

[Karolus Rex]

Now after some delays, mostly because I had forgot were I had placed my main book source "O Exército Português na guerra Peninsular", here is the Prelude.

P.S. - For those wondering this is a Timeline In as Much Time as Is needed .

P.P.S - The poems were made in Portuguese, so sorry if they don't rime/sound stupid in English.

P.P.P.S - Damn to many post scriptum, but I need to point this. In term of language, even if this written in English, the people would be mostly talking either Portuguese or French and sometimes German, but I will try to point it out.

P.P.P.P.S - thanks to machine3589 for editing my original, and crude, text, I have now changed the text with the new Edited Version.

*****

Prelude

Sometimes is good to lose a War.​

Salvador de Portugal
General valente e imortal

Esperança nos deste
Orgulho nos recuperaste

Liderai agora os vossos leais Lusitanos
Na vossa luta contra os Francos

Savior of Portugal
Brave and immortal General

Hope you offered us
Our Pride you recovered

Lead now your loyal Lusitanians
On your fight again the Franks
​

Epitaph written by Almeida Garrett, to the Marshal-General of the Portuguese Army, Karl-Alexander von der Goltz, Marquis of Villavelha​

*****​

General von der Goltz was outraged.

Why? He asked himself. Why must I care for those fools if they refuse to see what is right in front of their eyes?

He had been hired by the Portuguese to reform their Army, and for that he had begun to analyse the Army`s last two campaigns. What he had found out was terrifying.

In Roussillon the men of Exército Auxiliar à Coroa de Espanha, the Auxiliary Army to the Crown of Spain, had proven their worth. The men had fought hard and had showed their Spanish allies that they were as good as their best.

No, the problem weren't the men, of that von der Goltz was sure. The problem were the officers.

In Roussillon most of the officers, and especially a young upstart named Gomes Freire de Andrade, had proven that they were little more than fools. From what he had found out most of the trouble in that campaign had been created by the rift between de Andrade and John Forbes.

As far von der Goltz was concerned not one man had managed to prove himself of the lot that had fought there.

Had they been in the Prussian Army, he thought, they would be lucky if Der Alte Fritz didn't shoot them himself.

And as if that hadn’t been proof enough of how badly they needed to change their ways, there was the more recent War of the Oranges. And for that von der Goltz had no need to make an inquiry, for he had seen their incompetence. And the soldiers, most likely still feeling the effects of Roussillon, had not shown any will to fight for their own country!

He had pointed it all out to the committee. The Prussian had put it very clearly to them.

The men were good, they had proven their worth, but treating them like garbage was obviously counterproductive. The officers had to stop being promoted solely because of their aristocratic blood. Reforms had to be made, light troops had to be trained and a new officers corps had to be created.

Such ideas would be considered revolutionary, at least in Portugal, in the best of times. But in an age where the French Republic was the dominant power in Europe, this sounded too much like an attack to the holy rights of the Nobility to the General`s ears.

The Marquis of Alorna had been completely against the plans and had found support in the British mercenaries serving in the Portuguese Army.

And now von der Goltz had just found out that all of his work had been for nothing, as the committee had been crystal clear. The reforms were refused and he had just been sidelined by the Anglo-Portuguese Generals.

He tried to ignore the pain that the refusal had inflicted on him. During his time as Frederick the Great`s militar secretary, von der Goltz had learned to feel pride in his work and he knew he had done his duty well. Not that it mattered of course. Those fools only cared about their own personal gains.

Well. He thought after a sigh. I did my duty and it appears that because of it I am no longer welcomed here. Better to resign this commission and return to Prussia.

At the thought of Prussia, an image of his homeland came to his mind.

Yes. I might do just that.

*****​

The Prince Regent was analyzing the last details of the Peace treaty when his personal secretary entered the office.

"Your Grace, General von der Goltz would like to have a word."

At hearing the man's name, the Prince immediately knew who he was. Which, even the Prince had to admit, was notable. For in the midst of so many foreign mercenaries in his Army, it was common that a Prussian officer, even one that had been the Militar Secretary of Frederick of Prussia, would pass almost undetected to the Royals.

But the Secretary of War had spoken highly of him, going as far as calling him "The only General that knows what needs to be done and how to do it".

"Tell the General to enter." He ordered.

While waiting for the Prussian to enter, his mind drifted to the reforms that he had proposed. The Prince had been fascinated by them, especially the idea of creating light infantry regiments in the light of the Prussian Jägers.

Many of the ideas could be considered revolutionary, and that had been most likely the reason John Forbes had refused to accept them. The Prince sighed. De Sousa was right, as he usually was, the Army had come a long way from the time were men like the Marquis of Marialva and the Marquis of Minas had taken command.

And he had no doubt that the Portuguese Army was the laughing stock of Europe now.

But, if God allowed, he would change that.

For himself, for God, but most importantly for Portugal.

*****​

"Your Grace. The General, Count Karl-Alexander von der Goltz,." Presented the secretary.

"Please General, take a seat." Said the Prince Regent.

For a moment von der Goltz took the time to consider the man who sat in front of him.

Dom John of Portugal, Prince of Brazil, Duke of Braganza and Beja and currently Prince Regent of Portugal, was a man in his middle thirties and despite the rumors he was still fit for his age and rank. He might not have the physique required for a soldier, but there was something in him that gave von der Goltz the felling that this man had more in him that what the exterior showed.

The Prince was the first to break the silence.

"My personal secretary tells me that you wished to talk to me Count."

Surprisingly he spoke in German, something for which von der Goltz was more than thankful for. He still hadn`t learned Portuguese; to his ears it sounded far too much like Russian, and his French was too rusty and he was painfully aware of his excruciating accent.

"As your Grace probably knows, the Army Committee, presided by General Forbes-Skelater, has decided that my proposals were unfit." He said in a neutral tone. Noting that the Prince wasn't going to speak, he continued.

"With my the refusal of my plans and with several of the other senior officers openly hostile to my criticism, I have decided to present to your Grace my letter of resignation."

For a long moment the Prince looked at him and once again von der Goltz felt something. The Prince appeared impassible but his eyes sent another message.

"I am afraid I will not accept it." The Prince stopped von der Goltz before he spoke again. "In three days I am going to Badajoz and there I will have the unpleasant duty of signing a Treaty that will force me to cede Portuguese soil to the Spaniards."

The Prince stopped for a moment, but when he spoke again his voice was harder than ever.

"The Secretary of War and I have both read your report and your recommendations and we agree with them. Unfortunately this last conflict has removed much influence from the Secretary and it will take considerable effort to keep him in his office. I might be unable to help you now, but give me one year General, and I promise that you will have carte blanche to do as you wish."

Von der Goltz was speechless. He had arrived at Queluz thinking that there would be at lest some resistance to his resignation, but the idea that both the Prince and the War Secretary approved of his ideas and plans had never crossed his mind. And now the Prince had promised him carte blanche and all he had to do was wait a year.

"One year, General, and you will have free hand to create an Army that will protect my Nation. What do you say?"

Before answering one thought came to von der Goltz`s mind.

I better start to learn bloody Portuguese.

 

[Karolus Rex]

Where is the update.

Sorry for the lack of punctuation, and orthographic mistakes. I will address that problem as soon as possible, but I just didn't add time to add the necessary comas and to do review of the text.

This update was now edited courtesy of mister Unknown, thanks a lot mate you just saved.

Next update, can't make any promises but I will try to have until Wednesday and I will go back to the third person narrative. I will keep changing between the third person perspective and the world narrative depending on the situation.

******​

Reforms, Military Coups and Conspiracy
(1801-1806)​

The Royal Hunters in their distinguished brown uniforms.​

The years after the infamous War of the Oranges were hard ones for the small nation of Portugal.

While the rest of Europe was embroiled into a war with Napoleonic France, Portugal was trying to reform its military, while avoiding being dragged into the conflict.

Under the guidance of General Karl-Alexander von der Goltz, the Portuguese Army begun the creation of a corps of light troops called Caçadores Reais (or Royal Hunters; RH for sheet). Recruited from among volunteers from the northern border regions of the country, the Hunters would soon gain a reputation as one of the best units of light soldiers in Europe. Armed with muskets, these men were trained to become expert marksmen and the best among them were usual group together to form an elite company called Atiradores (or Shoters) after the French Tirailleur, and they were armed with German Jäger rifles.

From the three original battalions created in the middle of 1802, the Royal Hunters would grow to form a force of 16 battalions during the Peninsular War.

But the Hunters were not the only light corps created in Portugal.

The growing competition inside the Portuguese officer corps was divided, with the Prussianos (Prussians) being named as such due to their support for von der Goltz and the Anglo-Portuguese conservatives caused the conservatives to create their own light battalions, which were named the Legião de Tropas Ligeiras (the Legion of Light Troops, LLT).

A mixed formation with cavalry and artillery included, the LLT was an experimental force, with its infantry being inspired by the Experimental Corps of Riflemen and, as such, their infantry were equipped with the soon to be famous Baker rifle.

With the Portuguese Army now having three battalions of the RH and three legions of the LLT, the need for light infantry had ended and just in time for, in 1803, a military coup, led by Gomes Freire de Andrade and the Marquis of Alorna, took place.

The two men thought that the Prussian general was only reinforcing the power of the absolutist regime, so they conspired to remove him from office and, also, force the Prince Regent to accept a constitution.

On July 24th, the 10th Infantry Regiment, led by Freire de Andrade, took up arms and marched against the Royal Army Arsenal. At the same time, the 2nd Legion of the LLT, commanded by the Marquis of Alorna, begua their march from Amadora to Queluz to capture the Prince Regent.

Unfortunately for them, the recently created Guarda Real da Polícia (Royal Guard of the Police, RGP) and the 1st Artillery Regiment stayed loyal to the regime, fought the insurgents, and was able to warn the royal family of the danger.

The Prince immediately sent word to von der Goltz and ordered him to raise as many loyal regiments as possible to quell the rebellion. Luckily for the royalists, a single messenger was able to pass through the rebels.

When news reached the general who, at the time, was in Santarém to evaluate the readiness of the 10th Cavalry Regiment, he immediately ordered the Regiment to prepare to for battle.

While the 10th Cavalry Regiment was preparing to advance to crush the revolt, von der Goltz sent a squadron to Setubal, with orders for the 7th Infantry Regiment to come to his support.

Some more messengers were sent to the other units of the Divisão Centro (Central Division) but, at the time, the loyalists only had the 10th Calvary Regiment and the men of the Royal Guard at their disposal; the Royal Guard, at the time, was under siege in Queluz with the royal family.

As the men under the Marquis were trying to capture the Royal Palace, the soldiers of the 10th Infantry Regiment were meeting harder resistance than they expected, with the RGP and the 1st Artillery Regiment being able to expel them from several parts of the Portuguese capital.

On August 1st, one week after beginning of the coup, von der Goltz entered Lisbon in front of the 10th Calvary Regiment and, with the help of the loyal soldiers inside the city, managed to capture Gomes Freire, forcing the 10th Infantry Regiment to surrender. At around the same time, the 7th Infantry Regiment clashed with the 2nd Legion. While the Legion had the advantage of being armed with rifles, the 7th Infantry Regiment was able successfully force them to retreat before being stopped by a combined attack of Hussars and cannon fire.

Seeing their companions fighting outside the Royal Palace, the Royal Guards, composed of the Royal Guard of Archers and the Royal Guard of Ginetes, left the protection of the Palace and attacked the rebels in the flank.

Being faced with the opposition of a full regiment and an attack on their flank, the 2nd Legion began to retreat and was eventually corned.

With ammunition growing sparse, the men of the Marquis are forced to surrender, ending the rebellion.

The military coup of 1803 ends in disaster for the rebels, with the Prince Regent losing whatever liberal sympathies he might had and with the support of General, now promoted to the rank of Marshal-General of the Army, von der Goltz.

As for the rebels, the regime decides to disband the 10th Infantry Regiment, with the soldiers being sent to Africa and Timor. The LLT was also disbanded. The 2nd Legion suffered the same fate as the men of the 10th, with the other two Legions being converted into Hunter Battalions.

The ringleaders were found guilty of treason, were dismissed from the army, and were sent into exile under penalty of death if they ever set foot into any land under Portuguese rule.

After this, the Prince Regent approved the formation of the Estado-Maior do Exército (or General-Staff of the Army; GSA, for short) headed by the Marshal-General of the Army and with the Marshal of the Army as his second-in-command.

The GSA, at the time of its foundation, was led by von der Goltz, with Forbes-Skelater as second-in-command.

The two men leading the GSA had, for all that is known, a troubled relationship and, after a year, Forbes would retire and the position of second-in-command was passed to the Count of Vioménil.

During the remaining years, the soldiers of the Primeira Linha (or 1st Line) were reorganized and retrained. In the end, Portugal had twenty-four regiments of line infantry, for a total of fifty thousand men. These were made up of twelve regiments of cavalry, representing 7,356 soldiers, and four artillery regiments, representing 4,400 men, making the total strength of the First Line of the Portuguese Army at home 61,756 soldiers divided between three divisions.

The Hunters and other special formations were not accounted in the numbers of the First Line but, rather, were part of the Guards Division. During the Peninsular War, and with the growing number of Hunter battalions, the Guards were divided into two divisions: the Divisão de Guardas Ligeiros (or Light Guards Division) and the Divisão Ligeira (or Light Division).

Another change happened in the troops of the Second Line. The men from this part of the army served in the militia and, with the implementation of conscription in 1804, the second line was divided into Batalhões de Conscriptos e Batalhões de Milicias (or Battalions of Conscripts and Battalions of Militias). With a growing need for soldiers, the state began to perform a census every ten years. The objective was to know how many men between the ages of 16 to 45 were in the country and were able to serve in the Conscript Battalions.

The third line, known as the Ordernanças, was kept unmodified.

It was in 1804 that the reorganization of the officer corps occurred. In 1803, the Royal Military College was founded in Lisbon and artillery schools were opened in all the capitals of the military governorships. The plan was to have a completely professional (and competent) officer corps, that would gradually replace the older and ineffective mercenary and aristocratic high command.

This and several other measures passed by the Secretary of War and Foreign Affairs, Luís Pinto de Sousa Coutinho, were vital for the good performance of the Army.

One of the most important measures was the standardization of the promotions. Until then, promotion in the Portuguese Army was only acquired by either patronage or bribes. Now, commissions were opened to sergeants and other non-commissioned officers, the Royal Army and Navy Academy were now opened to the bourgeois and, more importantly, promotions and other rewards were now given on the basis of merit and competence.

Needless to say, these changes enraged many of the aristocrats in the Army and they now found themselves forced to prove their worth.

It was in the midst of this that a palace conspiracy was formed and led by the Princess Regent. The objective was to remove her husband, Prince João, from the regency by claiming him to be mentally incapable and, then, she would assume the regency.

Luckily for the prince, one of the conspirators, the Marquis of Ponte de Lima, lost heart and told him all about the conspiracy.

At the palace of Mafra, where the conspirators usually gathered, the 4th Battalion of the Royal Hunters, under the command of the Lieutenant Colonel Silveira, captured the ringleaders.

For the Prince, this was the last straw. His relationship with his wife had always been a stormy one and the conspiracy of Mafra only served to poison him even more against her. He ordered her to be placed under confinement and began to plan his divorce.

Also during the period from 1801 to 1806, agrarian and industrial reforms were passed. To avoid the need of British food to feed the populace, protectionist measures were passed. The arsenals of both the Army and the Navy were upgraded and expanded. Under royal decree, the amount of land allowed to the production of vineyards was established and the production of potatoes, corn, and other cereals were encouraged, with several royal subsides being granted. Of course all of this had a stain into the finances of the state, but Brazilian gold was used to pay for the expenses.

Brazil also saw some changes during this time. A Royal Military Academy and a Naval School were created in Rio de Janeiro to prepare colonial officers. Colonial troops were also raised. To provide the necessary supplies for the growing armies in both Brazil and Portugal, food and weapons production was encouraged, with several arsenals being built in the colonies to provide the necessary muskets, cannons, and gunpowder in case of war in both Europe and the Americas.

Needless to say, these reforms were seen very badly by the British government, which had long considered Portugal to be little more than one of their puppet states, but the growing power of France forced them to stay still.

So, at the dawn of the War of the Fourth Coalition the Portuguese state had been changed.

From a weak country, the Portuguese state had (ironically, given the conservative and peaceful nature of their rulers) been transformed into a more liberal and militarist country.

But their time of grace had ended.

Napoleon had been concerned with other matters in northern Europe, but the idea of a more powerful Portugal was something he hadn't thought of.

The French general, Lannes, had been appointed the representative of France in the Portuguese court. His porpoise had been that to bully Portugal into submission. Unfortunately for him, the Prince Regent, under the guidance of the Marshal General and the Secretary of War, was able to successfully outmaneuver the arrogant Lannes. In the end, all of his bullying only served to put Portugal even more distrustful of France and to place them into the British field.

Lannes had presented the Portuguese Army as a ragged bunch of soldiers led by idiots. Trusting him, Napoleon sent an ultimatum to Portugal. They were to close their ports to the British, disband their army, place their navy under Spanish control, and to place the northern part of the country under French rule.

In Lisbon, the decision was unanimous. The ultimatum was refused and mobilization of the three lines of the Army was called.

When the news of the refusal arrived at Paris, Napoleon, at the time preparing to face the Fourth Coalition, ordered Spain to invade Portugal.

So on September 27th, a date soon to become infamous, two divisions of the Spanish Army crossed the Portuguese-Spanish border and advanced against Elvas.

The Peninsular War had begun.

 

[Karolus Rex]

Once again many thanks to Unknown for correcting my many grammatical and orthographic mistakes.

*****​

First Battle of Elvas

(September 28 - 1 October, 1806)​

Part One​

Rodrigo was thrilled.

The Spanish patrol had fallen into the trap, without suspecting what was about to happen to them.

Around the fifteen Spaniards, there were almost fifty men of the ordenanças, all of them armed. Some, like Rodrigo, had outdated muskets, others brought knifes, others had edged weapons, and he had even seen some men armed with bows.

"Pass the word for wait for my signal before attacking." he whispered to the man to his right.

He checked to ensure that everything was alright with the musket and took aim at the officer.

The man leading the cavalrymen was clearly an aristocrat. No officer on a soldier’s pay would be able to afford such a good horse and such much gold on the uniform.

The man was a peacock.

And the moment Rodrigo pulled the trigger he was a dead one.

Barely a second after the first shot was fired, the woods were covered with smoke, as more men pressed their triggers.

Not wanting to give time for the Spaniards to recover, the Portuguese ordenanças left their cover and charged with cold steel in their hands.

Fifteen men of the Hussares de Maria Luísa had entered the woods; not one left them.

*****​

"The Spanish are moving their men using this road here, sir." said the captain, before pointing at a road on the map. "From what we could gather, sir, the Spanish are moving some six to ten regiments of the line and at least two regiments of guards. Some reports even tell us that some of the supposed line regiments might actually be light infantry regiments, but we still haven't been able to ensure the veracity of the information."

"How much cavalry do they have?" asked Colonel Lecor.

"Their cavalry was being cut down by the ordenanças, according to some of the reports, and one of the companies reported to have killed some of them; from the description they gave of their weapons and uniforms, I dare say they brought at least one regiment of Hussars."

"And artillery?"

"Probably one battery of artillery but, given their numbers, I wouldn't put it past them to have brought more."

For a moment, Lecor turned his attention to the map in front of him and the pieces that represented the Spanish regiments. For now, he knew he had at least one division in front of him, but he had received intelligence that the Spanish had begun their offensive with two divisions.

So, where in hell was the other one, he thought to himself.

"Do you have any news as to where the other division might be?"

"No, sir." The captain seemed annoyed for not having found them. "If I may be so bold, sir, would you mind a suggestion?"

Lecor simply nodded and the captain began to move some of the pieces.

"We know, sir, that the Divisão Solano is moving towards Elvas. So wouldn't it be possible for them to be moving against Estremoz or Évora?"

"Yes, but they would leave us behind them and they would need more than two batteries to gun down the fortress."

"But, sir, what if they think that that is they need to capture the citadel?" Seeing that the senior officer wasn't following, he explained. "During the last war, they advanced without any opposition. Maybe they expect the same thing to happen again…"

"So they will think a simple show of force will bully us into surrender."

"Exactly, sir."

"Thank you, captain, for you toughs. You are dismissed."

The captain hadn't still left the room and Lecor's mind was already thinking about how to stop the Spanish.

He only had one brigade and cavalry regiment to face the enemy, made up of a mere three thousand infantry, supported by five hundred cavalry, and the enemy numbered some ten thousand, as far as he knew, and they had field artillery support; this was something he lacked and couldn't hope to get in time from Estremoz.

The situation wasn't perfect, Lecor knew that but, for an ambitious man like himself, a difficult situation could easily be turned into a chance to gain glory and rank, if he had the balls to gamble with an ambitious plan.

He began to plan, where he could stop their advance.

The Spanish general had taken the long route towards Elvas. He had crossed the Guadiana and, then, advanced towards Campo Maior. They could have crossed the Guadiana and, then, the Caga River, but that would force them to leave the artillery behind and, if what the captain said was true, they wanted to do a show of force, and artillery was usually more threatening than cavalry and infantry alone.

If he left now, he would be able to capture the crossing, and artillery could be brought from Elvas, but it would take at least a full day for the huge pieces to be brought into position. And there was always the other crossing, but the militias could probably take care of that; some guns could even be sent to aid them.

Lecor then noticed a problem in his plan.

He had forgotten about the other Spanish division.

Maybe it was that division that was moving from the other crossing, but if what the captain's idea was proven right: then the Spanish would be crossing into Portugal further south, leaving him to face one single division.

It was a gamble, but it was one he was willing to take.

*****​

Lieutenant General Francisco Solano y Ruyz, the Marquis del Socorro y de la Solana, was enraged.

He had expected an easy and calm advance towards Portugal, with little resistance facing his army.

How wrong he had been.

His regiment of Hussards had been almost wiped out by those bandits, or the men the Portuguese called ordenanças. He had even lost some of his guns because of the annoying little men.

And, now, four thousand Portuguese soldiers had dared, dared, to stop him from crossing into the other bank of the river.

Solano could order his men to cross further north or south, but he would be damned if he was going to allow those good for nothing Portuguese to stop him from conquering their country.

So, he had ordered his men to advance, with orders to crush and rout the Portuguese force.

The regiments he had selected had been the best in his division. The two Guards battalions he had included the famous Walloon Guards and the Andalusian Grenadiers.

This constituted three thousand soldiers of his Most Catholic Majesty's Army, against an equal number of Portuguese soldiers.

And they had failed.

They had been pushed back with huge casualties. The Portuguese had fired volley after volley of musket fire without taking a breath. Most of his soldiers had been unable to arrive to the other bank and, with the water almost to their arms, they had been unable to fire back against the blue-clothed infantry.

It had been a massacre. One shouldn't have happened, if only the Portuguese had just played their role and, after a couple of shots to save face, they had surrendered to him.

But, now, he was going to teach them.

The artillery was still on the road but, tomorrow, he was going to batter those idiots into oblivion.

Tomorrow, they would learn to fear their betters.

 

[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.

 

[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]

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.

 

[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."

 

[Karolus Rex]

Thanks to Unknown for editing the original text.

*****

The Admiral and the Marshal

5th January 1807​

Domingos de Lima, the 7th Marquis of Niza and Admiral of the Royal Portuguese Navy, stood in the harbor, appreciating the view of the Adamastor and the Príncipe D. Pedro, the newest acquisitions of the Navy.

They were the first two of the seventy-fours that he had ordered five years ago, with the other two, the Luso and the Serpente, receiving their last preparations before being launched in two to three months.

As the Adamastor left the harbor on its way to India, the admiral was filled with a sense of pride. He had worked these last few years for the purpose of watching the navy of his nation reaffirm its position on the world stage.

The navy might be far away from its glory days, when the Portuguese pendant inspired fear in both friend and foe alike but, with the Spanish and French navies destroyed and demoralized and with the British having stolen the Danish ships, he had no doubt that he commanded the most powerful war fleet of Europe, after the British Royal Navy.

As he kept contemplating the ships, he heard steps approaching from behind him.

"A beautiful sight, isn't it?" he said, without looking to see the approaching man.

"Indeed it is." answered the newcomer in a slow, accented voice. Even after living almost six years in Portugal, he still didn't have domination of Portuguese and he spoke it in a slow and heavily accented way.

"And they are just the first two." continued the admiral. "In a couple of months, two more will be ready to set sail."

As the other man stood after his last remark, Admiral de Lima took one last view at the ships and turned to face the elderly Prussian marshal.

"It is always a pleasure to see you, Marshal but, from what I’ve heard, you didn't come all this way from the border just to see my new ships."

As the Prussian pointed at a nearby bench for them to sit down in, he confirmed that he had come in a urgent business that only he and him could knew.

"Secrecy and hidden plans?" mocked the admiral. "I thought the Prussian way was to press forward until the enemy was crushed."

"I'm afraid we might have some serious business coming from France."

"What?"

"Marshal Soult has gathered a new corps-size force in France; they are mostly green recruits and conscripts, from what I heard, but fifty thousand men could turn the tide."

"My Naval Fusiliers are at your disposal."

"We will need something more than just the naval brigade."

At this comment, von der Gotlz fell silent, as if thinking how he should phrase his next thought.

"How long would it take for you to bring soldiers from Brazil?"

At this, de Lima was caught off guard. Colonial soldiers on the continent; who had ever heard of such a thing, he thought but, then, it was brilliant. If what the Marshal said was true, then the Army might hold for some time but, eventually, the Corsican Ogre would turn his eyes to the peninsula.

"It depends on how many men we need to bring."

"Ten battalions."

de Lima was speechless. If bringing a company of colonials to Europe was unheard off, then to bring ten thousand colonial soldiers into Europe would be unthinkable. Ten thousand wouldn't be enough to face the French but, then, the idea that Portugal would resort to its colonies for manpower would put its enemies off guard.

"If we begin preparations now, I might have them here by late August." he said, after a while. "But how the hell do we have so many men in a bloody colony?"

"After the war began, I sent word to the army staff in Brazil with orders to recruit and equip fifteen battalions."

"If I am to bring ten thousand colonials here ,I must go back to the Arsenal to begin preparations."

As the admiral was preparing to leave, Marshal von der Goltz signaled for him to stay.

"Those won't be the only men you will have to bring from the colonies."

Now de Lima froze.

The Marshal certainly couldn't be thinking about them!! They were scoundrels, scumm and traitors. Those kind of men had no right to step foot on the sacred Portuguese soil.

"von der Goltz you must be kidding. The Black Coats are not the type of the men we want where."

"They are exactly the type of men we want here." As the Admiral looked at him in disbelief he explained. "Desperate? Yes. Traitors? Some of them are. But they are the toughest and meanest sons of bitches we have in the entire empire. After four years in Angola, the weak are all dead and the remaining ones are the type of soldiers we want."

"But, according to the law, no Penal Battalion may steep foot in the lands of the Kingdoms of Portugal and the Algarves."

"That's why they are going to be renamed the Foreign Legion."

"I still think is wrong to bring them. But you are the Marshal and the Prince trusts your judgment and, as such, I will oblige. The colonials will be here by August or September and I will have the others here by April. Now, if you excuse me, I must go back to make all the arrangements."

As the Admiral left to go to the Naval Arsenal, the Prussian Marshal stayed on the harbor.

For a while, he felt all of his sixty-seven years.

I’m too old for this shit. Fe thought for the hundredth time.

But he didn't stand idle for long.

For war doesn't wait for anyone.

*****​

The Penal Battalions or Black Coats are the original regiments that were sent to West Africa after the military coup of 1803.

They were broken as Army regiments and reformed as Penal Battalions (PB).

The nickname Black Coats comes from their black uniforms, a way to remember them of their treason.

Over time african tribesmen and diseases killed many members of the PB and both Portugal and Brazil begun to send men, the most brutal offenders, to them as way of death sentence.

Because of this the prisoners begun to be offered a choice either serve their time on jail or serve the same amount on the PB.

As more and more prisoners begun to chose the latter the PB begun to receive many numbers of foreigners that had committed some crime and preferred to serve their time on the PB.

In 1807 at least a third of the PB are composed of foreign nationals.

When von der Goltz decides to bring them to Portugal, and as the law forbids the PB to step foot on Portuguese soil (they could serve in the colonies but not on Portugal or the Algarves), they were renamed the Foreign Legion (Legião Estrangeira).

The name was inspired by the several Legions of foreigners the french had and also by the KGL. Because their were men from multiple nationalities it was decided to keep the four PB together and amalgamate them into a single Legion [while the both the French legions and the KGL kept the men according to their nationality (ex: Polish Legion, German Legion, etc...), the Foreign Legion had no such divisions, with Americans, Swedes, Portuguese, Spanish, etc... all fighting on the same battalion].

 

[Karolus Rex]

Thanks to Unknown for editing the original text.

*****

Legions and Abdications

20th of February, 1807

The Light Infantry of the Foreign Legion on the Peninsula

Pro honōre legiōnis (Latin for "For the Honor of the Legion")
Official Motto of the Foreign Legion

Os portadores da morte (Portuguese for "The bringers of death")
Unofficial Motto of the Foreign Legion​

Colonel Fernando Lourenço, the commanding officer of the Foreign Legion and official commander of the First Infantry of the Legion - with Major Afonso Gomes acting as their de facto commander - watched with pride as his soldiers marched from Saint Michael's Fortress towards the harbor of São Paulo da Assunção de Loanda. There, a fleet, under the command of the Capitão de Mar e Guerra – or captain of sea and war - Jorge de Oliveira, waited to take them to the fatherland were they would join the newly formed Army of the North.

As the Second Legion Infantry marched, the Colonel moved forward to greet their commander, Lieutenant Colonel Viriato Reis.

"Colonel Reis, are your men ready?"

"The men of the Second are always ready for a good fight, sir." said the other officer with a grin. "And, for a change, we will know where the damn enemy is, sir. I was going tired of pursuing those damned tribesmen on the cursed savannah."

At this remark, the Colonel began to laugh.

"Well, Reis, if the men see your men, I have no doubt we will be pursuing them all the way to Paris, a far more dangerous place than Africa."

"Indeed, sir" said Reis, before giving a final salute and moving forward towards his men.

As the Second advanced the First Light Cavalry appeared with their three squadrons moving in a well-organized column, with the dragoons in the front, followed by the Hussars, with the Lancers in the rear.

As they passed by Colonel Lourenço, their commander, Major Jorge da Cruz, saluted the Colonel, while shouting to the Hussars to keep their horses under control.

In the end of the marching Legion came their artillery, the First Horse Artillery, with Captain Mauricio Moura leading them.

Four years ago, they had arrived in Angola as outcasts and traitors after the Alorna Coup and, now, they were leaving as hardened veterans marching to help defend the fatherland.

How do things change, he thought, I arrived here as a mere Captain and, now, I am leaving as commander of a corps of the army.

But he hadn't been the only one to change. His second in command, Afonso, had been an Ensign of the Second Battalion of the 10th Infantry, Reis had been a Lieutenant on the former Legion of Light Troops, da Cruz had served on the Hussars of the Light Troops as a Sergeant Major, and Moura had also been a Sergeant serving on the artillery of the former Legion.

They all had arrived here as green soldiers and would leave as hardened men, for Africa had no mercy for the weak, as the countless bodies of the soldiers that had been serving here for the last four years could prove.

They had survived Africa and, now, they would kill in Europe.

*****​

“And I have no doubt that, with your men, those boring Portuguese will be brought to their knees.” said Prince Ferdinand with his mouth full of venison.

As Marshal Soult saw both the King and the heir of the Kingdom of Spain, he could not avoid feeling nauseated.

With such men leading them, it’s a miracle the Portuguese aren’t already in the Pyrenees, he thought.

Why he had to get such a horrible assignment, he didn’t know.

He had missed the Battle of Eylau, where Murat had won eternal glory for leading the charge that had stopped the Russians.

Missing such a glorious battle was a disgrace in his eyes, but at least he would have the pleasure of teaching the two pigs in front of him a lesson.

“Tell me, Marshal, when will you advance against those scoundrels that refuse to accept the glorious leadership of Spain?” asked the King.

“Well, your Majesty, it will be a while before I march against them.”

“May I know why?”

With an indulgent smile on his face, Soult took a letter from his uniform and handed it to the King.

“The Emperor wishes that you would read this.”

As the King of Spain read the letter, Soult was tempted to laugh as the King’s face got more surprised by the minute.

“The Emperor must be joking, he expects me to abdicate that is…”

Before the King could finish, Prince Ferdinand begun to laugh, spitting food all over the table.

“See, father, even the emperor knows I am a far better ruler than you.” Then he turned to Soult and reassured the marshal that, with him in power, the Portuguese problem would be dealt as fast as possible.

At the thought of the Prince thinking that the Emperor would put him in power, Soult lost it and laugh like a madman.

“May I know what is so funny, Marshal?”

When Soult was able to recover his composure, he answered the prince.

“The idea that the Emperor would remove King Charles only to put his fat, idiotic son on the throne of Spain is very amusing to me.”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?” shouted the fat prince.

“Prince Ferdinand, the Bourbon rule over Spain is over. King Joseph of Naples is going to become the next ruler of Spain.”

As he saw the look of surprise on the two Bourbons’ faces, Soult, once again , begun to laugh like a madman.

 

[Karolus Rex]

Thanks to Unknown for the edited version.

*****​

New World, Old Politics​

3rd of March, 1807​

Talleyrand was outraged.

The idiot Corsican had ignored him and had sent one of his marshals to force the Spanish king to abdicate.

If he had found out about this earlier, he might have managed to avoid this latest show of stupidity. If he ever had any doubts about Napoleon's interest in the balance of power in Europe, he now had none.

The man he had helped put on the throne of France would fight the entire world for his own personal vanity.

And, now, this last battle.

The Emperor had declared it a great victory for France, but Talleyrand saw the issue differently.

For the French diplomat, almost twenty thousand Frenchmen killed or wounded for an empty snowy plain with the Russian and Prussian armies still intact was not a victory.

The Emperor had gone too far and someone had to tell him.

But he would hear none of this.

When he spoken his mind, Napoleon lost it. He accused him of cowardice, of conspiring with the enemies of France against him, and of more things than Talleyrand could remember.

While Talleyrand was, usually, able to hold his emotions, upon hearing those accusations, he lost it.

He told Napoleon everything that was on his mind.

Understandably, their meeting had ended with Talleyrand out of his ministry and with Napoleon threatening to have him shot.

And, now, Talleyrand was abandoning East Prussia for Paris.

But he wouldn't go without a plan.

Now, he knew that Napoleon would be domed. He would never accept peace, for war was the only thing that kept him in power.

Napoleon would fall, but Talleyrand would not.

*****​

"How does the accused plead?"

"Not guilty."

As everyone had their attention focused on the former vice-president, Jefferson was looking at General Wilkinson.

That week excuse for a man had come to him two days after Burr and had accused the latter of conspiring with the Spanish. Little did he know that Burr had already done the same.

And had it been for Clinton, Wilkinson would be the one on the stand today, but Jefferson had other plans. Better to fake a trial to allow Wilkinson to believe that he was off the hook and then capture him when he made a mistake. Clinton had argued against that plan but, in the end, the President's logic won out. If they put Wilkinson on trial, it would be Burr's word against Wilkinson and that would end in nothing.

So, now, they waited.

Burr had agreed to go through the fake trial and Jefferson had assigned some of his most trusted men the task of spying on Wilkinson, waiting for some evidence of his treasonous activities.

But the bastard knew how to cover his tracks and it would be still a long time before he could hang the traitor.

As he saw a smile on Wilkinson's face, Jefferson's doubts about his innocence vanished and he made a promise.

I will see you hang, traitor.

*****​

Lieutenant General Arthur Wellesley was impressed.

He had in front of him the First Division of the newly formed Portuguese Army of the North.

Some sixteen thousand infantry, supported by artillery and cavalry, formed in parade as their commander, General of Infantry Luís Castro, passed through the regiments, looking for some mistake on their part.

While Wellesley had no doubt that his men were as good, or better, then their Portuguese counterparts, he was still impressed by their discipline. Watching them march or drilling their musketry was like seeing a huge machine, where every men knew his place.

"What do you think of our men?" asked Field Marshal Lecor, the commander of the Second Division.

"They are very disciplined." conceded Wellesley, not willing to admit he was impressed.

"If you think this is discipline, you should see the Hunter's Brigade."

"What you mean by that?"

"The Line Regiments are trained in the Prussian fashion." he said, while leaning on his horse. "But the Hunter's is different. Their training is brutal, they are forced to march twenty-three miles on one day with full gear each month, they spend weeks on the forests training the men, and that is just some example. So that you understand, only thirty of every one hundred volunteers stay on the battalions, with the rest asking to be sent to the Line Battalions."

"Only thirty!" said the British general, surprised.

"For some reason, their motto is Tantum Fortis Reliquiae." stated Lecor with a laugh, before moving forward.

They passed through the remaining Brigades in silence and eventually caught up with General Castro.

"So, General Wellesley, do our men reach your standards?" asked Castro.

"As I said to General Lecor, your men are mostly disciplined."

"Indeed they are." agreed the General. "But tell me, have you heard the news from Madrid?"

"I heard some rumors, but nothing for certain."

"Well, then, consider those rumors true." the General then signaled one of his ADC's to bring him a dispatch. "Our spies in Madrid have sent word and confirmed that Joseph Bonaparte was declared King of Spain by Marshal Soult."

"So, are the Spanish armies on our side?"

"I don't know." admitted Castro. "Catalonia and Navarre apparently supported this new king, but we only know that Andalusia has already denounced Joseph and declared Ferdinand the true king, and no news has arrived from Castille, Leon, or Galicia."

"Maybe if you offered Ciudad Rodrigo to General Blake, he would support us."

As Wellesley ended his comment, all the Portuguese generals looked at him as if he had become crazy.

"General Wellesley, if your hovernment offered Gibraltar to Ferdinand, I have no doubt that all of Spain would support us." said Castro in a frozen tone.

Wellesley took the exit and didn't press the issue, instead praising the Portuguese soldiers, but the damage was done.

*****​

Tantum Fortis Reliquiae means Only the Strong Survive, I think.

 

[Karolus Rex]

Credit for Unknown for serving as beta and editor of this update.

*****

Traitors and Spies​

As the General moved with such an ease and calm, John could but not help but think that the man was a clear idiot.

He obviously thought himself above suspicion and never thought that the President had an agenda of his own.

And things would stay like that until the moment came to put a rope around his neck.

If Wilkinson kept on doing things as he did now, that moment wouldn't be far way.

From the moment the General had come back to New Orleans, John had found enough evidence to send him to jail for life. Bribery could probably get him thrown in jail, but that wasn't what the President wanted to get him for.

And, now, almost two weeks after being in Louisiana, the General was about to meet the Spanish spy or, at least, John hopped he would.

He had been following him for a good hour now and the man showed no signs of stopping any time soon.

As he was about to give up, Wilkinson took a right turn and entered a house through the back door.

John had seen him there before and he had found out that it was where he kept his mistress.

Damn the man, he thought, Of all the times to visit the mistress, why now?

As he finished the question, the answer struck him.

What if the woman was both his mistress and his contact? That would be the perfect cover; as far as anyone knew, Wilkinson was just visiting his lover, like many men of position did but, away from the eyes of the world, he would be plotting against the United States.

He cursed himself for not having seen it earlier, but at least he knew or, at least, thought he knew.

I got you now, you son of a bitch.

*****​

Miguel hated paperwork.

I didn't join the army to fight paper, he thought bitterly.

But he was good at his job or, at least, his superiors he thought he was.

Unfortunately, it was a horrible job. One that had him working with the worst kind of rascals, thieves and traitors.

But that was the way it was on the Serviços de Informação do Exército, or the Army Information Services, as it was known. Most men called it the Department.

His post was new and revolutionary, but it made sense. The idea of this department had come from General Castro. It made no sense, he said, to depend on independent exploring officers to gather intel on the enemy; it was better to have someone to coordinate it, to give the generals the best information possible.

He and a couple of others had been chosen directly upon leaving the Academy and had formed the original core of the Department.

They had been just five men at the beginning, and no agents or connections.

That had been five years ago.

Now, they had a network all over Spain and southern France and, if it wasn't for his men, the generals would be left on the dark about what information was real or not.

As he read the report in front of him, he thought of how a man like Castro would react to it.

The informant said that the French had brought two hundred thousand men to the peninsula! This was ridiculous notion and one that had just made the man useless to the Department.

As he took up a cigar, he turned his gaze to the newest report sent by his agents in Barcelona. As he read it, he couldn't believe the information in it.

If this is true this will be a game changer, he thought.

Determined, he left his office and went to see Major Carlos.

"Do you know what is in this report?" he said, waving the report.

The other, always the mocker, told him that, if he didn't give him the report, he would never know.

"Is this true?" he asked after reading.

"I don't know." Miguel admitted. "And I won't go to the Marshal with fake intel. Send word to any man you think that can confirm this; the funds will not be a problem. Just confirm if what's in here is true or not?"

Carlos nodded, ensuring he would do so.

He also knew the value of that information and, if it was proven true, it would change everything on the peninsula.

 

[Karolus Rex]

Credit to Unknown for serving as Beta and Editor of this update.

*****

The Enemy of my Enemy, ain't my Friend​

William Cavendish-Bentinck, the 3rd Duke of Portland and the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, sat in his office, wondering if there had been a worse start for any Cabinet.

He had just been invited by the King to form a government a week ago and things couldn’t had gone any worse.

Russia was beginning to waver on their war enthusiasm and, without them, any hope of a Prussian resurgence was shattered. With the war in Germany lost, is it any wonder that Great Britain wanted to ensure that their remaining allies wouldn’t waste their resources, and British money, on another failed campaign?

For Cavendish, such questions were justified and, therefore, the only way to ensure that there wouldn’t be another Austerlitz or Jena was to put their allies armies under the command of good and steady British officers.

It was only logical.

But their Iberian allies didn’t think so.

The Spanish juntas had been adamant in their refusal so long as Gibraltar stayed under British control and the Portuguese government didn’t even bother to give them a formal answer, instead sending a single note to the British embassy, asking if the ambassador was drunk when he made such a request.

As if the situation with the arrogant Iberians wasn’t bad enough, the British foreign services had just found out that Napoleon was thinking about bullying Denmark into putting their fleet under French control.

Allowing the French to have control of one of the two fleets, which had enough power to fight and, possibly, defeat the Channel Fleet, was something that Cavendish wouldn’t allow.

He had already ordered the Admiralty to prepare enough ships and marines to capture the Danish fleet if they refused to put their fleet under British protection. Some might see such an act as a clear violation of Danish neutrality, which it was, but England couldn’t afford risking a French invasion.

This last thought made him think. If he could force the Danes to give them their fleet, then he could force the Spanish and Portuguese to put their armies and navies under the control of British officers.

The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea.

The Portuguese could be forced by threatening their commerce and the newest Slave Trade Act would aid in that. If necessary, he could order the Royal Navy to apprehend the Portuguese trading vessels under the claim that they were slavers.

And the Spanish could become more reasonable if he threatened to give full support to the revolutionaries on their American colonies.

It looked like a good plan to him.

*****
​

Talleyrand couldn’t help but feel pleasure at his latest work.

Ever since the Corsican upstart had forced him out of office, the foreign relations of France had been on a downward cycle.

Austria was more fearful of the growing ruthlessness of the French Emperor and was beginning to rearm itself and Spain had passed from being a loyal lapdog to becoming an enemy of France. Denmark was being bullied and, had it not been for the Swedish fear of ever-growing Russia, all the powers of Europe would be united in their hate and fear of France.

It was clear to any idiot that France couldn’t keep going on like that.

Eventually, there wouldn’t be enough men to conscript to fight the ever-growing wars. The people were beginning to get tired of war and more and more men were escaping to the woods from the conscript parties, more and more newspapers were closed by Fouché for supporting peace, and even some officers were beginning to become tired of the constant state of war that the Emperor kept France in.

France would fall. Napoleon would fall. He, Talleyrand, would not.

And he was ensuring his postwar survival.

He had found out about a certain person in southern France who was in contact with Portuguese agents in Barcelona. Thanks to this knowledge, he could aid in the downfall of the Corsican tyrant.

He had already sent them word before and now he would do again.

Some might accuse him of being a traitor, but he wasn’t. He was a survivor.

And he felt compelled to do as he did.

If Napoleon did as he wished, another war would soon follow.

Talleyrand knew that this latest news would be even be more worrisome than the last but, even so, he thought it would be better for them to know Napoleon’s plans.

And, at the end of the day, when remorse came, he knew how to shut it off.

He did what he had to do to survive and saw no shame on it.

*****
​

Eugène Rose de Beauharnais, the Viceroy of Italy and the Commander of the Army of Italy, sat on his horse as he saw his green-clothed soldiers march.

I became too accustomed to northern Italy, he thought, and, if what I heard is just half true, the men will fall over in exhaustion during the summer.

While the Spanish heat couldn’t compare to the temperatures he had seen in Egypt, the men were more accustomed to the climates of central Europe.

Why his stepfather had sent him to Spain, he had no idea.

Sending the Army of Italy was a rash decision and one that left northern Italy unprotected against Austria but, when he told his fears to his stepfather, he dismissed them, claiming that Austria would never dare attack him.

That last statement showed him how much the man he once admired had changed. He said him, and not France, confirming his fears that this wars were not against France but, rather, against Napoleon himself.

But his loyalty still spoke higher than his personal feelings and he had ordered his men to gather and began their long march towards Catalonia.

For some time, he thought that Spain would indeed welcome him and his men, like his stepfather had said. But, as they marched further inland and further away from Barcelona, the situation changed.

The men under Marshal Soult had behaved like they usually did in northern Europe, stealing what they needed to survive or, as the Marshal had called it, living off the land.

He had given orders for his men to pay for everything they took and had kept them under strict discipline but, for the common Spaniard, it didn’t matter if the man that came to his door was dressed in blue or green, or if they spoke French, Italian, or Polish; to them, they were all enemies.

Eugène had been forced to keep all his cavalry at the back in order to protect the supply train from partisans. And it only got worse by the day, as more and more of his soldiers were ambushed by angry Spaniards. While these conflicts were usually one-sided, with his Italians being better-armed and equipped, there were always casualties and they were growing by the day.

Spain was becoming hell.

He had to be careful, or it might become his grave.

*****​

No Eugène being sent to fight in Spain with the Army of Italy ain't the shocking info the Department received in the former update. That particular cliff hanger is related to the information's Talleyrand is been sending to Lisbon, that shall remain secret for a while .

 

[Karolus Rex]

Sorry about the delay on the update .

Hope this new chapter can make you forgive me for my inactivity .

Credit to Unknown for editing the original version.

*****

I Wanna be the King of Spain​

Marshal-General von der Goltz, had been embroiled by paperwork when Major Carlos, the head of the Department, storm into his office.

For an normal officer, to storm into the office of the Chief of the General-Staff of the Army, it would be the fastest way to kill ones career, but for this officer to do so, it had become an usual occurrence.

While the information the Portuguese officer brought was always needed, and sometimes even vital for the war effort, there were times when von der Goltz regretted telling him that, if the information was important enough, he could enter at any time, needing not to knock.

"Sir, it's confirmed." Said the information officer.

"Major, you must be a little more specific than that."

"Sorry sir. It's the news from France." At seeing that the Prussian still hadn't realized what he was talking about, he explained. "It's been confirmed that some politicians, generals, and even members of the Emperor's family, are conspiring to do a Coup d'état."

This important news, indeed. If the French in the Peninsula found about it, or if they were part of it, it could give him time, to bring the colonials to the continent and to end some of the defensive positions, that were currently, being built on the borders.

"Do we know the reason?" Asked the Marshal.

"Most of the people are getting tiered of wars, and some think that a more malleable Emperor is needed.

"And who are they thinking to put on the throne of France?"

"I still don't know, but I have an idea of who he might be." As the Marshal signaled him he continued. "Who ever is chosen must be a man of the Army, probably an Hero of the revolution, so that give us most of the French High Command. But he must be politically week and in alliance with the Bonaparte family for receiving some support from the Bonapartistes, so the only man that applies to this is Carolina Bonaparte's husband, Marshal Murat."

The Prussian pondered on the matter for a while before asking.

"Do you think he is aware of the plot to put him on the Throne?"

"I have no idea, Sir." He said. "But I plan to know."

The Major was about to leave, when he remembered the other matter for which he had come.

"Sir, about the Spanish matter I have news and they are not good."

Now von der Goltz was surprised. For the man that had refereed to the Battle of Jena–Auerstedt, as nothing more than a bump on the road, to say that the news weren't good, was because they were horrible.

"It appears Sir, that fighting against the French ain't enough, for the Spaniards, so, they have decided to fight among each other. Prince Ferdinand, or should I say King, as decided to ignore that he is a French captive, just like his father, and declared himself the true King of Spain. So now we have three Kings and the Cortes of Cadiz, all of them claiming sovereignty over Spain"

This were bad news. There had been rumors coming from Barcelona, for almost a month, saying that Ferdinand had declared himself King, as if there weren't enough Kings in Spain as it was, but the fact that the little prick had actually done it, put the Spanish Army on a defacto war between the Partisans of Charles and Ferdinand, that when they weren't fighting with the men loyal to Cadiz and the men under Soult and Eugène.

"What about Blake?"

"Blake is avoiding choosing sides, for now, but he as almost thirty thousand men under him. It's impossible that they will all have the same allegiance, so we might expect some breakaways from his army."

"But will he still fight with us against the French?"

"I don't know, Sir." He said unhappy. "I don't know.

*****
​

Field Marshal Lecor stood in awe as the newest commander of the British forces on the peninsula approached him.

General Sir Hew Whitefoord Dalrymple, 1st Baronet and former Acting Governor of Gibraltar, was an unimpressive man.

To say the least.

The fact that the British had taken so long to chose a new officer to command their Army on the peninsula had given the impression to the Portuguese staff that the chosen man would be a brilliant general and, instead, they had chosen Sir Hew.

To call him unimaginative was an insult to people without imagination and the fact that he had been Governor of Gibraltar had only served to insult General Blake; he still refused to speak with the British General in any language, not that it made any difference, given that the man only knew how to speak English and, to make matters worse, he had even managed to piss off General Castro.

So it now fell to him, and to the very embarrassed Wellesley, to ignore the fact that Castro and Blake tried to strangle Sir Hew.

This was a hard task, even in the best of times.

"Sirs." he greeted. "General Castro and General Blake are waiting for you on General's Castro office."

As they went to the war room, Lecor noticed that Wellesley was even more constrained than usual.

"Is something wrong, Arthur?" he asked.

"The general received news from England. I don't know what it is about, but I have a bad feeling about it."

All that Lecor could do was nod and hope that his friend's instinct was wrong.

Unfortunately, he knew that Arthur was almost never wrong.

 

[Karolus Rex]

Credit to Unknown for editing the original version.

*****

A World on Fire

Part One​

François Joseph Lefebvre, Maréchal d'Empire, and currently in command of the forty-five thousand men besieging the Prussian city of Danzig, watched as his men finished the last of the three siege trenches that currently encircled the city.

In normal circumstances, the trenches would had never been built so fast, but the Emperor had ordered to capture Danzig as fast as possible and by any means he considered necessary, regardless of the amount of casualties.

Lefebvre understood the need for speed but he, unlike the Emperor, had risen up from the ranks and still remembered those days and, as such, the Marshal tried his best to keep his men alive and didn't liked this urgent demand of the Emperor to storm Danzing.

If he did so. the butcher's bill would be huge. as the fifteen thousand Prussians trapped inside would make his army bleed.

He sighed.

His personal feelings didn't matter, because the Emperor needed the Prussians crushed and Danzing captured or the city could and, most likely, would be used to attack the rear of the Grande Armée while the Emperor pushed eastwards against Russia.

Even so, he still had some reservations about the Emperor's plan to defeat the Russians, especially after Eylau were almost a third of the Army had ended wounded or death for nothing.

Lefebvre was getting tired.

Tired of war and tired of death.

He had been a soldier for almost thirty-five years; he had fought for the King, for the Revolution and, now, he fought for Napoleon. He had lost companions, friends and, even, his own offspring in the wars of France and that had taken his toll on him.

"A Marshal of the Empire shouldn't have this kind of thoughts." he muttered, while shaking his head.

He waited a little longer to clear his head and, then, turned his horse to go back to his headquarters.

He had a city to capture.

*****​

As Lecor read the message sent by his Majesty's Government to Sir Hew, Arthur felt more and more apprehensive as time passed. He had no idea of the contents of the letter, but it still felt like it was bad news.

When Lecor finished reading and turned to Generals Castro and Blake to translate the messageto them Arthur tried desperately to understand what little he could, but his rudimentary knowledge of the Portuguese language was unable to follow the quick speech of the Field Marshal. But even he could understand, from his tone that it was a grave matter and, when Castro and Blake began to curse furiously, his fears were confirmed.

Castro turned to face Sir Hew and spoke furiously.

"General Castro asks if this is some kind of joke." translated Lecor after his superior had finished speaking.

"Are you sure that is all he said?" asked Hew, for he doubted that such a long tirade from Castro could be translated to such a small question.

"The General added several words that you don't need to know." snapped Lecor.

"Is this the way a Major General treats a Lieutenant General in this country?"

"General Hew." said Lecor formally. "The only thing that is stopping me from throwing you out from that window is that Generals Castro and Blake would probably demand the pleasure."

"Damn you." snapped Hew. "Tell your General that it is not a joke."

"General Blake demands to know why you British are here, then." said Lecor after translating.

"We are here to fight the French, of course."

Lecor didn't even bother to translate and, instead, asked how they would do it, then.

"On the battlefield, of course."

"Sir Hew." said Lecor, trying hard not to lose his patience again. "How are you to fight if you must ask permission of your government every time your are to cross the border?"

So that's what was in the letter, Arthur thought in dismay. If we are to truly ask Parliament every damn time we are advancing into Spain, no wonder Castro, Blake, and Lecor were enraged.

"All you have to do is inform me and I will inform London and then..."

"And then all of Europe will know our campaign plans." finished Lecor, before turning to the Portuguese and Spanish generals and translating the conversation.

Castro pointed to the British officers and, after another tirade, hit his fist on the table and left the room.

With the meeting thus concluded, Blake quickly followed outside and, in turn, was followed by Sir Hew, leaving only Lecor and Arthur alone on the room.

"And that way, my friend, is how the French managed to defeat us without firing a single shot." said Lecor after a while.

"We will still defeat them on the battlefield." replied Arthur.

"Maybe." said Lecor sadly. "But I doubt it will be with your redcoats marching with us."

As the Portuguese officer left, Arthur had to bitterly agree that that would most likely be true.

*****
​

"It's a real sight, isn't it, colonel?" asked Viriato.

"Indeed it is."

And it was.

After years in Angola, they saw the capital of their fatherland, Lisbon.

After years of exile, they had returned.

"All long as it been Viriato? Six? Five? Four years? How long has it been since we were forced into exile in Africa?"

"Four years. Four years of hellish heat, of constant skirmishes with those damned natives, may they burn in hell, and God knows how many diseases. We survived all that shit and, I tell you, I pity the Frenchy that has to face any of our boys."

Lourenço laughed at that last remark and looked at the city bay.

Everything was just like when he had left. The harbor was still full of life, with ships bringing resources from all over the world, and the streets were filled with people.

One could really feel the city even at this distance.

"We really are back," he muttered.

As the ships approached the harbor, he felt something in his eye and noticed he was crying.

Lourenço didn't care.

He and his men were back home.

*****​

I am particularly happy with the way this update came and come here to inform those that are questioning themselves why no American POV I have to tell you it was going to be one but I had to delay it because I need to add another POV before to ensure the plot doesn't falls apart.

P.S. - Next week, or on the next after that, the why General Castro is so reticent on giving Ciudade Rodrigo to the Spanish will be uncovered.

P.P.S. - This is a version without proofreading, I didn't do it because of lack of time, but the proofreader version will replace this one tomorrow morning, so please forgive me any mistakes on the grammar or on the lexicon.

P.P.P.S. - This is a part of a three part Update I plan to have completely posted until next Monday.

 

[Karolus Rex]

Credit to Unknown for Editing the Text.

*****

A World on Fire

Part Two​

"Alors, tous les moyens que vous aurez laissés aux Portugais toumeront contre vous; car, enfm, la nation portugaise est brave." - Napoleon Bonaparte to Marshal Soult.[1]​

"But, Your Highness, I still think we should try to reach some sort of agreement with Napoleon."

"Agreement? Have you lost your brain, Azevedo?" Forjaz’s scorn was blatant. "The only thing those damn Jacobins understand is force! Force, I tell you. You will have better luck negotiating with the African savages and Oriental monkeys."

"Unfortunately, Forjaz, it is not your place to decide that." The secretary of Foreign Affairs then turned to the Prince Regent once more. "Your Highness, I beg you, please let me send some envoys to negotiate with the French Emperor."

"Your Highness…" But, before Forjaz could continue, the prince raised his hand, ordering him to shush.

"You both know my mind. I desire peace above every other thing in this world or the next, but I am afraid that Bonaparte will not accept it. Even if we sent him more envoys, the Corsican will just make some more unjust demands that we cannot, and shall not, accept." the prince said, ending the discussion. "So, Azevedo, you are to ensure that the British stay with us, and that this war, unlike the other ones, will not be fought to the last Austrian, Prussian or Portuguese; this time, they must fight. If need be, threaten them, saying that I am willing to accept closing all our ports to their ships if that is what it takes for Napoleon to back down. Even better, tell them that we will ally ourselves with France if they don't fight on the continent."

Finishing with Azevedo, the prince turned to the War Secretary.

"You, Forjaz, make sure that the war effort is kept. If the army or navy needs anything, speak with either me or the Marquis of Aguiar; we will make sure that the funds are gathered, even if I have to sell my wife's jewelry." that last remark was said in a bitter voice. The prince had never forgiven his wife for trying to declare him invalid to rule, and the only thing that had stopped the Prince from getting a divorce was the need of keeping good relations with Spain. "You are both dismissed."

"Your Highness." Said both men while bowing.

*****​

Quarter-Master [2] Rikard Brand of the 2nd Foreign Legion Infantry Battalion looked at a ragtag bunch of men that represented the newest recruits of the FL, while the recently promoted Brigadier General Lourenço walked around them, like a lonely wolf playing with its prey.

"I say there, Quarter-Master." Lourenço shouted. "Never in my life have I seen such poor excuses for men. Shit, even the Spanish have better men and that is putting it at a very low bar."

"Indeed, sir." he agreed. "Even the dansk have better men than this."

The brigadier laughed at that remark and told Brand to send the recruits to the other sergeants.

"No, you are going with me to see the newest bunch that is going to join the second." he told him after he asked if he was to go with the men.

"Very well, sir."

As the two men crossed the compound of the 2nd Royal Hunters they passed through a group of the 2nd's recruits. The two legionnaires gave them an ironical smile and laughed at the stiffness of the Drill Sergeant when the man noticed them.

There was no love lost between the Black and Brown coats.

"Sir, do you mind if I ask: why do you need me with the 2nd recruits?" asked the Swede, as they approached the 2nd's headquarters.

"A bunch of Nordics got drunk while their ship stopped here and ended up in prison and, instead of jail, they decided to join our little group. Doesn't that remind you of something, Quarter-Master?" the officer added in a mocking tone.

"No, sir." he lied.

In reality, it caused him to remember how he joined the Legion, and of how he had gotten himself drunk in Porto with local wine and ended up in the same situation.

The Portuguese are real bunch of bastards, getting a man drunk so that he either joins the Legion or goes to rot in jail.

"So what do you think of our new recruits?" asked the brigadier when they arrived.

Before Brand could think of an answer, the commanding officer of the 2nd had approached them and begun talking with the general in a Portuguese too fast for him to understand completely.

"Shit, another one." the general cursed.

"What is it, sir?"

The colonel of the second responded to the general with a single word.

“Americans.”

"Understood, sir."

Brand understood quite well. There were some Americans on the 1st and they all had the same problem. They all complained that they were being kidnapped and, that, as American citizens, they refused to serve on another nation's army; this wasn’t anything that some beatings and starvation didn't cure, of course.

Well, not all of them complained. A couple were true fire-eaters and had no problem in fighting under another flag.

"Can you break them?"

"Anything is possible, sir, as long as one as the right tools." the Quarter-Master answered.

"You have carte blanche." the general said in a low tone. "You can do anything you wish with them, as long as they learn to obey."

"Sir."

As he begun to think of how they needed to break this American group, he began to feel sorry for the poor bastards.

They are going to learn what the Legion is the hard way.

*****​

John was tired.

He had spent a full night reading report after report and he had found nothing of worth to pin on Wilkinson.

He could had sworn that his mistress was also his contact with Spain but, after God only knows how much time later, all he had found out about the woman was that she had no ties whatsoever with Spain, for she was French.

John sighed as he went for another cup of brandy.

He was missing something and he knew it but what was it? What could it be that was escaping his grasp?

Maybe Wilkinson wasn't a traitor as Burr had claimed and as the President and the Vice-President thought?

Maybe Burr was the real traitor and his accusation of Wilkinson had been a vain attempt to gain time for his own schemes; after all, if the president thought he was the real traitor, Bur’s trial would only take 5 minutes and would end on the wrong side of a rope.

Or maybe this was all a damn charade that would end in nothing.

As he finished this thought, he noticed that both his glass and the bottle were empty.

Even the booze was escaping his grasp.

*****​

"So?" Jean Louis demanded.

"The Americans still think Wilkinson works for Spain."

"Good." he told the spy as he passed him two bags, one full of Spanish dollars and another with golden guineas. "Make sure that the Americans find the one with dollars in Wilkinson's possession and try to put the other one in the possession of someone close to Burr's." After giving him the instructions, he took another, smaller, bag and threw it to the spy as his payment.

As the spy left, Jean Louis waited for a little while before taking the opposite direction towards where he and the rest of his men were staying, pretending to be French exiles.

The moment he approached the house, he knocked three times on the door, stopped for a second, and knocked another single time, indicating to those in the house that he had returned.

"So how did it go?" asked Philippe, as he opened the door.

"It went well." Jean Louis answered the moment the other man closed and locked the door.

"Come on, d'Ville, you can be a little more expressive than that."

"You can send word to le chef that les Américains are falling for it and that the plan is going perfectly."

"He will be very pleased to know that." Commented Philippe with a smile, as he gave Jean a cup of claret.

"Vive la France."

"Vive l'Empereur."

*****​

[1] - to all of you wondering if I am the creator of this phrase, that can be considered as nationalist propaganda, this is an actual quote from Napoleon to Junot, in which he says that if shouted the English come into our support "All the means you have left to the Portuguese will turn against you, for, the Portuguese nation is brave."

[2] - British equivalent is Sergeant-Major

Some of you are probably wondering two things after this:

1 - A Swedish NCO?

2 - Why are a NCO and a CO so informal?

Answers:

1 - The FL only restricts the position of Commission Officer to people of Portuguese origin, but leaves the jobs of NCO's to any member of the ranks independent of nationality as long as he speaks, and knows how to, read and write in Portuguese. Some members ask the Battalions priest's to teach them to learn those skills so that they can rise up the latter.

2 - The FL begun as Penal Battalions, PB's, and despite changing to a Legion it's members still see themselves as outcasts. Because of that the relation's between NCO's and CO's is informal, after all many CO's of the Legion were former NCO's given that not many members of the regular battalions did anything to send them to the PB's. But don't let the informality fool you, discipline is much more brutal in the FL than in the regular's.

P.S. - on the "African Savages and Asian Monkeys" part of the text please bear it in mind that I DON'T hold this type of view, I just used it because Forjaz was OTL and TTL, for all that I could gather, a very aristocratic person that held the believe that those not belonging to the nobility was an inferior being. I apologize if I offended anyone but please remember that in those times things that we would considered racism was considered normal and because I am trying to be as accurate as possible I am forced to use such xpressions.

P.P.S - Sorry for the long delay. I hope this update, and the next one, can compensate the viewers.

 

[Karolus Rex]

For those confused the First Part of the World in Flames was focus on the problems between the Peninsular Allies and the Second Part was to show that the French are trying to manipulate the Americans against the Allies. Also the US is already beginning to become pissed with the UK conscripting his sailors and with the Portuguese conscripting his citizens to the Army.

Credit to Unknown for Editing the Text.

*****​

World on Flames

Part Three



"Countless deaths and wounded, that's what Napoleon really won at Eylau."

"The Emperor is becoming drunk with blood and power and France is the one that's going to pay the bill."
​

The two quotes above, the first made by Fouché and the second by Metternich, are the best quotes to describe the year of 1807. It also shows that European powers begin to notice a change in the behavior of Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte.

Up until Eylau, the Emperor had managed countless decisive victories at relatively low costs in terms of French lives, with Austerlitz being his bloodiest battle, with the cost of nine thousand French casualties. Then at Eylau the Emperor only managed to gain a stalemate, or as some claim a defeat, at the cost of almost thirty thousand French casualties, a third of his army, while the Russian-Prussian forces managed to keep their army intact and, had it not been the brave sacrifice of the French cavalrymen that allowed Davout to deploy his forces, the French army could had been forced to leave the field in defeat.

The Battle of Eylau​

After the battle, the Emperor proclaimed that Eylau had been a great victory and forced all the papers in French-occupied Europe to say as much while, at the same time, he blamed Marshal Bernadotte for the loss of life by claiming that he had failed to join the battle line, ignoring the fact that the orders that he had sent to the French marshal had been captured by Cossacks.

This also showed a change in the Emperor's mentality.

Up until then, the Emperor had seen himself as brilliant, but had not seen himself as infallible. It was at Eylau that the custom of blaming his generals for his failures began and it was also there that he began to believe that the fake reports he sent back to France were true.

"La Guerre de la Quatrième Coalition" by Philippe Dufort, Université de Caen Normandie.​

The French Empire had thought that the Iberian nations of Portugal and Spain would fall as fast as a card castle the moment he advanced against them. We proved him wrong.

Spain, while divided by several entities that claimed control, saw it' people rise up against the French invaders, and their allies. For each French soldier killed or wounded in battle the guerrilleros, called that way because, while they were fighting one little war, the guerrilla would take care of another four.

It was this combination of Spanish guerrillas and Portuguese Ordenanças that allowed the Peninsular allies, Great Britain, Portugal-Brazil, and the juntas of Seville and Galicia, to contain and, eventually, defeat the French forces.

(...)​

Their greatest achievement at the beginning of the invasion, in May of 1807, would be to delay the French columns of Eugène de Beauharnais while the British-Portuguese forces fought against Marshal Soult at Castelo Branco and the Uprising of Madrid.

Thanks to these irregulars, the peninsular allies managed to halt Soult's advance, forcing the French marshal to stop his march against Lisbon and to turn back to Spain to quell the revolt. With Soult retreating, de Beaharnais had no other option other than to retreat from Merida.

These actions, while not having any direct effect on the outcome of the War of the Fourth Coalition, would ensure the safety of Portugal in 1807 and would, over time, become the seed that would drain the forces of the French Army.

"O Papel das Guerrillas e dos Ordenanças na Guerra Peninsular" by Jorge Macedo Perreira, Universidade de Historia e Arqueologia do Porto.​

Their attempts to make peace with France ended in nothing and only served to increase the European hostility against Great Britain, especially since it gave the appearance that Great Britain only managed to gather soldiers to send against other countries’ colonies while, in Europe, they would only fight "to the last Austrian".

The only thing that they managed to achieve was the Slave Trade Act of 1807 which, while commendable because it was a declaration of war against the slave trade, only served to annoy the Portuguese-Brazilian elites that made fortunes with the African Slave trade, so it can be said that their greatest achievement came at the wrong time.

After their failed attempt to achieve Catholic emancipation, the Ministry of all the Talents felt and was replaced by the Second Portland Ministry.

The Duke of Portland, William Cavendish, will forever be known for leading GB in the darkest part of the Napoleonic Wars and for creating the seeds that would allow the comeback against Napoleon Bonaparte.

While Grenville had been forced to send an Army to the peninsula, he had always been against direct British intervention in the war and, after the untimely death of Sir John Moore, he managed to appoint one of the most useless generals that Great Britain ever had, Sir Hew Whitefoord Dalrymple, who had been acting governor of Gibraltar.

When the Portland administration achieved power, Sir Hew was removed from the command of the British forces in the peninsula, with the official reason being that he was needed in London but, in reality, he had become an embarrassment for Great Britain because of some remarks he had made about Ciudad Rodrigo, as it was known at the time, in front of the future Marshal-General of Portugal, Luís Castro, whose son had died while his forces conquered the fortress city. To replace him the Portland Administration recalled Sir John Stuart from Sicily and appointed him as commander, with Sir Arthur Wellesley as second-in-command.

Sir John Stuart on the Left and Sir Arthur Wellesley on the Right
​

"Analysis of the British Ministries and their effects on the outcome of the Napoleonic Wars", by William Faulkner, University of Edinburgh.​

The reasons for the American War can be traced back to the beginning of the Peninsular War.

Up until that time, the British Empire had been constantly pressing American citizens into service and, after 1807, with the passing of the Slave Trade Act of 1807 (the Congress would, a year later, approve of a similar act), British warships would use the act as an excuse to board American ships and, in reality, they were not looking for slaves but, rather, for experienced hands.

This constant pressing of sailors would become one of the main causes of the war.

Another cause was the Portuguese laws of conscription.

Originally created in 1802 to strengthen the manpower reserves available to the army, by making every male between the ages of 16 and 45 subject to serve in the army in case of armed conflicts, they were expanded in 1804 with the Penal Battalion law, which allowed foreigners that had been sent to Portuguese prisons to serve in the penal battalions as their sentence.

The third, and final part, was the Foreigner Conscript law of 1806. The original text stated that, in the case of armed conflict between the Kingdom of Portugal and the Algarves, or its colonies, against a foreign nation, the Army and Naval forces of the kingdom had the right to conscript foreign nationals accused of breaking Portuguese law and would force them to serve in special Regiments (the Foreign Legion would get the army recruits and the Brigade of Naval Fusiliers would create two companies to absorb those that preferred to serve in the navy). One element of the law made it legal to conscript foreign nationals that had only been accused of breaking Portuguese law, making it legal to conscript people for any reason, given that there was no need to prove if the accused was guilty or not.

With the law of 1807, many American sailors that had ended up drunk in Portuguese ports usually woke up in some Army prison and were accused of having committed a felony, without any evidence to support the accusation, and were given the option of hanging or joining the Foreign Legion.

This abuse of international law by these two nations made the President of the United States present several complaints against Lisbon and London but, given the small size of the US forces, both naval and land-based, especially when compared against those of the two allied empires, the Americans were forced to back down from their complaints.

"The American War: Origins and Causes" by Frederick de Holst, Boston University.​

 

[Karolus Rex]

Credit to Unknown for Editing the Text.

*****​

Blood on Iberia

Part One​

Chapter 5 - Early movements
​

The Peninsular Campaign of 1807 can be divided into two and, even, according to some, three smaller campaigns. These were the Leonese-Galician Campaign, which is sometimes divided into Leonese and Galician Campaigns and the Alentejo Campaign.

On Galicia, the newly formed Ejército de Galicia – or Army of Galicia - a paper force of some forty thousand regulars [1], under General Blake, begun to consolidate their hold on northern Spain. In early May, Blake had deployed garrisons in Benavente, Leon, Tordesillas, Valladolid, and Zamora, forcing the existing Spanish forces in those cities to join the Junta of Galicia against France. These movements allowed Blake to ensure the safety of Galicia from any force advancing from the east and also allowed him to put under his protection the cities of Leon, Valladolid, and Zamora, winning political support and legitimacy for the Junta.

While the Army of Galicia was making these movements, the Portuguese Exército do Norte – or Army of the North - left his winter bases in Moncorvo and, on May 12th, crossed the Douro, beginning an advance towards Tamames. On the 15th, the 6th Cavalry Regiment, the Chaves Dragoons, approached the city and demanded that the Spanish garrison leave the city and marched north to join Blake.

The Spanish refused and, on the 17th, when the rest of the Army arrived, General Castro sent an ultimatum to the defenders of Tamames: either they surrender and, then, march north to Blake, or he would bombard the city.

The Spanish colonel in charge delayed his answer, saying that he didn't have enough power to surrender the city and asked to send an envoy to Madrid to ask permission to surrender. Castro refused the request and ordered his artillery to prepare to fire against the city.

On the 19th, Tamames surrendered, and his garrison was sent north under guard, towards the column Blake had sent to secure Zamora. They were allowed to keep their flags, but were forced to leave all of their weapons behind.

With Tamames secured and with two militia battalions coming from Braganza to act as a garrison, Castro ordered an advance towards Salamanca.

While the Spanish-Portuguese forces secured northern Spain, the British Expeditionary Force, which had wintered in Corunna, was shipped to Lisbon.

They arrived at the Portuguese capital on the day Tamames surrendered to Castro and were joined on the 21st by Sir John Stuart. After a week of rest and preparation, the BEF left Lisbon and marched towards Elvas, where the Exército do Alentejo – or Army of Alentejo - was making preparations to face the advancing French armies, who were supported by some Spanish units that had sided with them. Accompanying the BEF were the battalions of the Foreign Legion that would go further south to support the Second and Third Line units to stop the advance of Beauharnais army.

At this point, the allies’ plan was to secure as much as they could in northern Spain and to try to delay or stop the French forces in prepared positions on the Guadiana and the Caya. When the French Marshal, Soult, found out about this, he ordered his army to march directly to Salvatierra from Madrid and, from there, to Castelo Branco. This movement had the advantage of catching the Anglo-Portuguese forces unprepared, but would force Soult to leave his artillery behind for the rugged terrain and bad roads of that area would make it impossible to for the artillery to follow the army.

Leaving a small garrison in Madrid that was supported by some Spanish battalions loyal to the puppet Junta of Madrid, Soult's army, numbering thirty thousand infantry, most of them green conscripts, and just two thousand cavalry, begun the 430-kilometer march from Madrid to Castelo Branco.

From his base of Ciudad Real, Beauharnais had tried to force General Castaños [2] into battle, but the Spanish general had always refused and had kept on retreating to behind the mountain terrain of Andalucia. With Castaños out of his reach, Beauharnais began an advance following the Guadiana, while leaving a strong detachment in Ciudad Real to protect it from any advances Castaños might attempt under the command of General MacDonald. The force that leaves Ciudad Real numbered some eighteen thousand Italian soldiers, supported by fifteen hundred Polish and Catalonian cavalrymen and four batteries of artillery, numbering twenty-four guns.

[1] Of those 44,000 men, most of them lacked good gear and training and most of the cavalry lacked bots and horses. Of Blake's army, only some ten thousand were battle-ready.

[2] - Francisco Javier Castaños Aragorri Urioste y Olavide, took command of the Army of the South, the greatest Spanish force in the peninsula, with a paper force of almost sixty thousand men. In reality, Castaños commanded little more than a force of half that size had suffered from lack of good horses and cannons, so his decision to retreat to Baylen was to try to resupply his army with whatever gear the junta of Seville had available. As will be shown in the next chapters, his decision would prove vital to the Spanish war effort during the first years of the Peninsular War.

Peninsular Campaign of 1807 by William M. Brody, Marshall University.​

 

[Karolus Rex]

To allow an easier understanding of the campaing movements here is the map I am using.

Remember that the only good roads to bring artillery from Spain to Portugal passed throw Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajoz, who controls those two fortresses controls the only good roads to artillery.

 

[Karolus Rex]

Credit to Unknown for Editing the Text.

*****

Blood on Iberia

Part Two

Chapter 5 - Early movements​

The French movements completely confused the Anglo-Portuguese forces.

Beauharnais’ movements put his army more to the north than the Portuguese Army Information Services, or AIS, for short, had anticipated, and Soult's movements completely surprised the AIS.

With its information services completely on the dark there were some talks about dissolving that department of the War Ministry, with some officers saying that each army should take care of its own information gathering. The AIS managed to survive this attempt to dissolve them, but was forced to place several of their officers and sources under the command of the Army commanders. The AIS stopped being an information bureau, the first of its kind, and moved to coordinate the information each Army received.

Having been caught on the dark, the Anglo-Portuguese force redeployed in Niza, leaving the first division of the British Expeditionary Force in Elvas under Sir Arthur Wellesley, supported by the Foreign Legion and the Militia and Ordenança forces of the area. The overall command of this mixed force was left to General Wellesley, but the Foreign Legion was allowed a mixed degree of autonomy.

While the remaining fifty-eight thousand Anglo-Portuguese forces, made up of some twenty thousand British soldiers, including the King's German Legion and thirty-eight thousand Portuguese, marched to Niza, the commanders of both armies, Sir John Stuart and General of Artillery Henrique Pinheiro, met at Abrantes.

There, the two generals discussed who would have overall command of the combined armies. Stuart had expected to be appointed as commander, but General Pinheiro had both more men and a bigger rank than Stuart [1] and, as such, demanded to have command of the British forces. In the end, a compromise was found, with Marshal-General von der Goltz being appointed supreme commander but, given the Marshal's age and health making it impossible for him to take direct command, both forces were made independent from each other.

While the Anglo-Portuguese fought over who commanded the armies, the French forces continued their advance.

Beauharnais’ cavalry vanguard reached Meddelin on June 5th. The garrison, loyal to Madrid, allowed them to enter the city and gave the French access to their supplies. When the rest of the army arrived two days later, the garrison made the same offer to them. But, while the Spanish garrison might have supported and helped the French column, the countryside began to rise against them.

Prince Beauharnais, having served during Napoleon's campaigns in Italy, remembered the problems the people had given the French soldiers when they were given a free hand to pillage the countryside, with the French forces being forced to quell several uprisings in Como, Varese, and Milan, among other places.

With his small force, Beauharnais was determined to avoid such uprisings and had given orders that the men were to pay for all of their food and that pillage was forbidden but, despite his orders, his men continued living off the land and ignored Beauharnais’ commands.

Because of this, it took his forces a full week to reach Merida, which gave the Foreign Legion enough time to reach the village of Albuera, making it a base from which they could raid the French supply train.

With the Foreign Legion in Albuera, the 1st Division of the BEF in Elvas, and with several groups of Spanish partisans waiting for an opening to move against him Beauharnais was forced to wait in Merida for an opening.

Some letters found in Merida and attributed to Beauharnais indicate that he was extremely annoyed at having to stop his advance. He blamed his own soldiers and Soult for that and it appears that he believed that, if the pillaging hadn't occurred, the garrison of Badajoz might have sided with Madrid instead of going for the junta of Seville.

Without Badajoz, he wrote, I have no choice but to stop my advance. With the English in Elvas and the Portuguese in Albuera, any attack on Badajoz would be compromised from the beginning.

Ignoring the fact that Beauharnais had been forced to stop his advance, Soult kept his men on their march from Madrid to Salvatierra. The bad roads and the inexperience of his men made the advance much slower than what the Marshal had expected, but most historians agree that the twenty-eight days the French took to make the march was close to a miracle.

When he crossed the river Alagon on June 24th, the Anglo-Portuguese forces near Niza still had no idea where his army was. It was only when his men captured Salvatierra on the 27th that Stuart and Pinheiro found where Soult's forces were.

In Salvatierra, Soult captured five six-pounder guns, a couple of Howitzers, and ammunition for both. Two thousand musket cartridges were also captured.

Having been caught off guard, the Anglo-Portuguese forces rushed towards Castelo Branco in a desperate attempt to stop the French from reaching the city; it was also where large amounts of army supplies were guarded. It was vital that the French didn't get those supplies for, without them, the Anglo-Portuguese forces would be forced to abandon the Castelo Branco area.

As both armies marched towards Castelo Branco, events on the other side of Europe would overshadow the first clash between the Anglo-Portuguese forces and the French Army.

[1] - General of Artillery, General de Artilharia, was one of the three special General ranks that were behind the rank of Marshal. The modern equivalent would be full General. In comparison Stuart was only a Lieutenant-general.

Peninsular Campaign of 1807 by William M. Brody, Marshall University.​