Naffi said, “They were not prepared for the professional army that fell upon them.”
“What of the captives? Those soldiers who surrendered?”
Naffi smiled. “I made use of them. They were given sticks and made to march in front of our tanks on the way to Portsmouth. The garrison there was bigger at more than five hundred men with several stone forts guarding the sea. Unfortunately for the Brits, they would not build fortifications along Portsdown Hill... for about another sixty years. This left the entire port open to attack from the land. You will soon see just how effective our assault was.”
The march from Chichester took the remainder of the day. At dusk, a camp had been set up and the artillery and tanks positioned. The assault of Portsmouth would begin at first light.
Roger Dumas walked the ridge line. “What a remarkable blunder on their part. They are completely vulnerable from this position.”
A colonel was standing beside him. “The men are ready and eager to go, sir.”
“This will be as we discussed earlier. After our bombardment, you will go down and take positions within the town that will prevent those in the forts from breaking out. From there we will spend the day bombarding the forts with the hope they will wise up and surrender. Should that not happen we will commence with our raids at dusk. And as briefed, you will enter the city and take key positions while awaiting further orders.”
Dumas made his way over to the captured Brits who were sitting in a group on the ground. “Tomorrow begins a new day. Cooperate fully and you will not be harmed. We don't wish to rule over you. We wish to rule with you. But your leaders have rejected our attempts at peace. Come tomorrow, we will take Portsmouth. We hold the high ground and have the artillery to hit anywhere in the city. Within two days we will be landing more than a hundred thousand men here at these docks. Once Portsmouth is under our control, London will be next.”
One of the soldiers spoke. “We are not afraid of you French arses. We have beaten you before. We will do it again.”
Dumas squatted down next to the man while holding up his rifle. “Have you seen these weapons?”
“I've heard the stories. Don't believe them to be true.”
The magazine was pulled from the rifle and a single bullet removed from the magazine. “This is a round. You have your casing and you have the bullet itself. Back here you can see where the trigger will strike. Just like your muskets, a spark ignites the gunpowder, just as the flint mechanism does for your muskets. The powder ignites and the bullet, in your case a lead ball, proceeds down the barrel and out.”
“And how does that make you special?”
“I can load twenty bullets and fire them one after another in seconds, in the same amount of time as you can load and fire a single shot. And also to my benefit, I can strike a target at five hundred meters with relative ease, and repeatedly do so.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I'm telling you because you may one day be in my army, fighting for me.”
“Against who?”
“Oh, I don't know. Perhaps the Americans.”
The soldier was quiet for several seconds as he thought of the possibility. “What about the Spaniards and Portuguese?”
“They will be allied under our government soon enough. And when all of this has happened there will be no more wars between us. We will all be working to better our lives and the lives of our families. And it will not be for the enrichment of a king or ruling family. Your people have just turned much of your control over to Parliament. We will be setting up something similar.”
“Again, why are you telling me all this?”
“Because I've seen how your eyes have been constantly scanning your surroundings, looking for an opening for escape when there is no need. Just sit and be patient. You will have your freedom soon enough and will be going back to your families. And that is all of you.”
“You just said we would be fighting in your army.”
“I believe you will, but it will be of your free choice. You will want to join and in doing so become a piece of history. What is your name?”
“Robert Wilson.”
“Well Mr. Wilson. Prepare yourself for a new world. It will be coming fast and those who volunteer will reap the bigger rewards.”
Chapter 9
_______________________
Reno chuckled. “Quite the recruiting pitch.”
“It is true. The sooner we win the sooner this world can get down to the business of bettering itself to the point where it can put up a decent defense when our invasion force arrives.”
Reno nodded. “I like that you are turning more and more to the big world view. Give them something to fight for and they will be much more willing to fight for you.”
“Precisely.”
The playback was sped up until the first morning light began to appear to the east. Roger Dumas was up and about, reviewing commands with his artillery and tanks. The Lumps Fort would be bombarded first, followed by Southsea Castle. Then the fight would turn to Fort Monckton with Fort Blockhouse coming after that.
Naffi said, “Once those bombardments are complete, you will see half a battalion of five hundred infantrymen taking control of Monckton and Blockhouse, if they choose not to surrender.”
As Roger Dumas looked over Portsmouth, often through a spyglass, a constant stream of cannon shells, many of them solid in nature, pounded the walls of Lumps Fort. The shells rained down for an hour, leaving the stone walls in tatters with the internal structures all aflame.
Southsea Castle was next. The mortar in the walls was older, but the stones were larger and held up well. The cannons atop her walls however, were soon in shambles, with the crews that manned them dead or run away. The fight then moved to Monckton where the walls were again cleansed of soldiers and cannon. When an hour of artillery was complete, the next barrage began to fall on Fort Blockhouse.
Roger Dumas sat in a chair with a glass of wine. “Send a runner to the docks. We will see if they have any interest in ending this peacefully.”
A private was soon running down the hill toward the town, with a white flag of a non-combatant waving above his head. He was allowed across the main bridge onto Portsea Island where he was escorted to meet with the commanding officers. As was expected, the surrender was turned down.
Upon return of the messenger, Roger Dumas turned to his commanders. “Initiate the infantry assault on the western forts. And begin the bombardment of the Hilsea lines. We will save the fortification around the docks for last. I would like to preserve as much of the port as is possible.”
For an hour the artillery pounded the trenches and bunkers along the Hilsea line going onto Portsea Island, the land that made up the town of Portsmouth. In addition, a short barrage saw the cannons atop the walls surrounding the docks obliterated. A battalion and a half marched down the hill, crossing the main bridge onto the island. Resistance, after the bombardment, was minimal.
The French infantry spread out, checking every home and building, advising residents to stay where they were or risk being shot as the enemy. All complied. When the outskirts of the dock walls were reached, a messenger was again sent forward. Again a surrender was denied.
Roger Dumas stood atop the hills outside the town, rubbing his forehead. “Lieutenant, pass the word to focus all fire on the north gate. I don't want stray rounds reaching the docks and causing damage. We blow a hole in their fortification and let the infantry do their work. And have the tanks prepare to move. We will be leading the infantry through the breach we make at that gate.”
“Yes sir.”
The commander of the French invasion force then turned to a messenger. “Send word to the fleet that the port will be ready for landings at first light.”
The runner was quickly away.
A barrage of the fortification gate was undertaken as Roger Dumas walked to his lead tank and climbed up and into the turret hatch. The two dozen tanks then trundled down the
hill and across the bridge into the town.
When the barrage had come to an end, the tanks rolled through the rubble of the gate and into the fortified area. The automatic rifles attached to the turrets laid waste to any defenders who made themselves visible. Fifteen minutes into the insurgency, the commander of the fort capitulated. The surrender of Portsmouth was complete and final.
Reno said, “Seemingly well executed. And the docks are unscathed.”
“I was worried they might turn their own weapons on those docks, but as we see they did not.”
“You don't seem very enthusiastic about your victory.”
The playback was forwarded to morning when the first French ship sailed into port.
Roger Dumas stood on the dock to welcome the fifteen hundred soldiers who had been crammed onto every available bit of deck space. “Gentlemen. London awaits.”
As the last of the soldiers came down the plank onto the dock, a group of officers gathered on the deck. The clone's eyes narrowed as it became apparent one of them was Napoleon.
“Ah, Admiral Dumas. Such a pleasure to see you again. And congratulations on this tremendous victory. I've waited many years for this moment. Please see to it the troops disembark as rapidly as possible. I want to be marching on London before they have a chance to bolster their defenses. And I want this fleet bringing a constant stream of supplies across for our use. An army moves on its stomach.”
I bowed. “I will do my best, sir.”
Reno chuckled. “You don't seem pleased that he is there.”
“This was my assault. He placed me in charge of those troops and that invasion.”
“I'm confused,” Reno said sarcastically. “Aren't we trying to elevate Napoleon to Emperor?”
“We were... are. It was just an unexpected move on his part. There are wars to still be conducted on the mainland and he shows up here. Now he's giving me orders.”
Napoleon began to walk forward before he stopped. “Oh. And when you have the supply line up and running I'd like a fleet sent to the mouth of the Thames. With luck a show of force will lead to an early surrender. When that happens we will then begin looking to the west.”
Dumas asked, “The America's?”
“Yes. Take a moment during your business today and think about what it would mean to have the entire world ruled by one government. Think of the accomplishments that could be made by us all working together for the good of all.”
“Sounds like a utopia, General.”
Napoleon hesitated in thought. “Yes. I suppose it would be. Continue on, Admiral. I'm certain you have tasks to complete.”
Naffi was scowling as the soon-to-be Emperor walked away. “He is stealing my glory.”
“He's conducting war, as a leader should. Wait... the recording only shows another day. What happened?”
“An accident while sailing back to France. Well, not an accident really... I was pushed overboard.”
“Purposefully?”
“I said pushed, didn't I? Now pull up the archives and let's see what became of this.”
An hour was spent perusing the records.
Reno chuckled. “A British spy aboard the command ship. And here we were thinking it might have been Napoleon.”
Naffi sighed. “Prepare another clone.”
“Do you not want to first see what happened with the invasion?”
“No. I want to be there to experience it, to shape it. But I would like for us to look up one thing if possible. The final demise of the clone of Marwal. When does he die?”
Reno scanned the archives. “There is no mention of it. Holding an individual captive is not something that was reported, so there is no record of him ever being taken captive.”
“Before I go back, I'd like you to ready another two dozen tanks. If Napoleon plans to take over mine, I'd like to be able to field my own crews. Maybe I'll take them back to the eastern front while he tackles Britain.”
“Did he not order you to deal with the supplies?”
An irritated Naffi huffed. “I might be starting to tire of his orders.”
Reno chuckled. “I believe the later-on Humans had a term for what's affecting you.”
“What would that be?”
“You seem to be developing a Napoleon complex.”
“A what?”
“It was a term that came about that was used to describe people who wanted to be their own little emperors. People who were full of themselves is, I believe, how it was termed.”
“You think I want to be emperor?”
“I think you want to control the situation. That would be the Naffi side of you. You spent your entire life building and overcoming obstacles to the point where you were in full control of your life. It would only be natural for you to want to do the same here. You are becoming a little Napoleon.” Reno grinned.
“Let's just get back to the business of building this empire. And your sarcasm is noted.”
A Reno clone was sent back where the work at his tank factory was continued. The mission lasted three months with the clone being terminated at the end. When the Naffi clone arrived, another twenty-four tanks were waiting for his command. He returned to the docks at La Rochelle with his new weapons, only to find that the clone of Marwal had managed to kill himself.
“How did this happen?”
The lieutenant in charge momentarily bowed his head. “We found him dead in a bowl of water. I'm not certain as to how, but it appeared as though he had drowned himself.”
“In a bowl?”
“A large washbowl. He asked that he be able to dip his face in the water periodically as a way to relax and feel refreshed.”
“Was he not being bathed?”
“Once per week as ordered, yes. I must apologize to you directly. I didn't see the harm in providing a washbowl of water. He is now dead, so there is no worry of an escape. And the body was disposed of discreetly, sir.”
Roger Dumas rubbed his temples with his fingers. Thank you, Lieutenant. That will be all.”
Reno shook his head. “This is unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate because he now also knows of our hideout. The guards admitted to having had several conversations with him where details of the location were revealed without their realization. I'll be moving the entire operation up to Calais.”
The recording was forwarded to the view of Roger Dumas as seen from the deck of the Josephine IV as it steamed into the harbor at Portsmouth.
The clone was staring through his spyglass as one of his lieutenants stood next to him. “What is he doing? This is a huge mistake. Those troops should be halfway to London by now.”
“I cannot comment, Masseur. I don't have knowledge of what is happening there.”
“Dock and get back to sea and on patrol. I'll find another way back if needed. And lieutenant, thank you for your continued commitment. I hear nothing but good things about your leadership.”
“Thank you, Admiral.”
The steel-clad ship pulled to a dock's end where the clone named Roger Dumas was helped up onto the planks. He hurried ashore and was soon entering a room being used as the command center for the invasion.
“Ah. Admiral Dumas. You are here just in time.”
“I thought you would be closing in on London by now.”
“I decided to allow the full force to come ashore before we proceed.”
“The men are everywhere out there. Shouldn't they be in defensive positions to protect the port until you are ready to move?”
“We have scouting parties out. The British will take weeks to assemble a force of any size. And I've been looking over the machines you brought. Interesting. But I have yet to see their purpose. They are cumbersome to move and barely fit on most roads. Our artillery by comparison is both simplistic and mobile.”
“I saw you have them all parked on the main road here in town. A better use would be to have them out there patrolling, instead of having scouts walking around. They can maneuver as fast a
s a man on horseback.”
“If you feel strongly about this, I give you permission to take them out for such use. But stay close. I want this army all moving at once. That will be critical for our positioning before battle.”
Naffi growled as he paused the playback. “This was the first time I began to believe he was capable of a poor decision. His orders during battle were almost ideal. Perhaps he is not as well suited to become Emperor as I thought.”
Reno chuckled. “I suppose you now believe you could do better?”
“I do.”
“You have one major flaw with your thinking.”
“And what's that?”
“Napoleon has the backing of the French people. They love him. You on the other hand are a nobody. You have not a single mention in his newspapers. The sea war over the Brits was won by patriots, not by Roger Dumas.”
“Regardless. I feel justified in my statement. This next fight will be evidence of just why I believe him to no longer be worthy. After I encountered a small force of British soldiers while out in my tanks, I decided to see if I could regain control of my original assault force. Thankfully that request was granted, excluding my artillery. Those pieces he wanted to keep.”
Attention was turned back to the display. Roger Dumas walked out to check on his tank crews before his barges came to the docks. Over the next six hours his two thousand men and the two dozen tanks were taken back aboard his ships and floated out to sea. The clone remained behind in an attempt to convince Napoleon that he would benefit from a northern assault that would hopefully split the British defense. The request was denied.
A dejected Dumas walked out onto the docks to think. He was only standing there for a few minutes when the first shots of gunfire echoed down from up on the hill above the town. His spyglass was drawn, and the hilltop was focused upon. There, coming into view across the ridge line, were thousands of British regulars in their bright red attire. The cannons of Napoleon's troops were turned back to face the town. Within seconds, round after round began to explode in and among the Frenchmen who were camped about.
Rifles were fired up the hill, only to be countered by rifles firing down. Marwal had again given the British technology that would equal that of the French. Roger Dumas took cover behind a stack of boxes resting on the end of the dock. Napoleon could be seen standing out in the open as he barked commands at his Generals. With the exploding shells falling all around, it was a scene of utter chaos.
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