"Where did you come from at this time of day?" he asked at length. One of his aides looked embarrassed, kicked his horse closer and leaned over to murmur something to him. The other one began to apologize to me, but I waved him into silence impatiently.
"Secret mission. I... see." Bluecher looked me up and down once more. "General Gerhard, no one is more loathe to say this than I am, but we must face facts. The battle is lost. The troops are scattered. To say they are retreating would be a lie. They are fleeing. At this time there is nothing -"
"I disagree," I interrupted. This wasn't the time for niceties. "We can regroup, there's still time to catch up with the enemy before -"
"Don't be ridiculous! Look around you, man! Are you blind?"
I frowned darkly. Bluecher was right in one respect - the situation was grim. Chaos reigned. Figuratively speaking. A good part of the troops was in full flight; on my way here, I'd encountered only a handful of battalions that were retreating with anything even vaguely approaching military discipline.
But it could have been worse. I'd managed to organize some of the shards of the army into a cordon to prevent as many of their panicked comrades as possible from spreading out into the countryside. I'd also gotten the officers to begin sending out detachments to pick up those that had already scattered. Morale might have been lower than low, but that could be remedied.
I told Bluecher what I'd done so far and watched his jaw drop. Literally.
"You are telling me that you stopped this army - no, that you stopped a multitude of disorganized soldiers in full flight?"
"Actually, it is too much to say they are stopped - as of this moment - but it should not be too much longer before -"
"Who _is_ this man?" Bluecher demanded explosively. The younger aide flushed crimson and began to speak, but the Marshal cut him off. "I know what his name is, for God's sake! You were reported a casualty when the Emperor returned, Gerhard - and now you turn up out of the blue and do the impossible! I think I'm entitled to a little scepticism!"
I knew I'd been away for too long - things should never have come to this. But on one of the last days of the restored monarchy, when I'd been sauntering though Paris, I'd thought I'd seen someone I recognized... Of course, it had been a stupid notion. I'd known it even then. I'd only seen him for a moment across a crowded market-square, but I'd actually thought it was Eric. I knew it sounded paranoid - but then I'd put nothing past that man.
I ignored the Marshal's inference that I might be an enemy agent. Bluecher didn't really believe it - he was just irritated. "If we don't strike now, if we allow our strongest ally to be wiped out, we'll be so inferior in strength that we will have no reasonable choice but to surrender. And this time it'll take us much longer to raise an effective insurrection. That's if we manage it at all a second time -"
Bluecher's eyes narrowed. He stared at me with sudden realization. "Wait a minute - Gerhard. H. Gerhard. That was the name of the man who came up with the plan - who organized the insurrection that we all thought was impossible when our forces were wiped out and our lands occupied. What's your first name - Hans?"
"Hagen," I corrected.
"You might have said so - why haven't you ever told me this?" I began to answer, but he was already focussing on the problem at hand, his defeated posture of moments before replaced by renewed energy and determination. "You think we have a chance to pull our troops together and put that Corsican upstart in his place once and for all."
"Yes," I said with conviction.
Bluecher looked at me searchingly for a long moment. "Very well, General. You are hereby charged with the task of bringing this army into line and getting it to - where are the French going?"
The aide to his left had been caught up by the determination and energy the old officer suddenly generated and spoke up enthusiastically. "The closest village is a small Belgian burg called Waterlow - no, Waterloo."
"Waterloo. General Hagen Gerhard will bring us to Waterloo before the Emperor cuts up Wellesley. And then, gentlemen, we will win this war."
| Monday, October 13, 1997 |
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