Napoleon

by Stephen Arseneault

  The cannons on the walls continued their barrages, soon closing in on the shields in front of the tanks. Clang after clang rang out as if church bells were calling in the flock from the surrounding town. The exchange of shells went on for fifteen minutes before the first of the tanks took a direct hit to a turret. After most of a minute, the tank powered up and pulled away from the fight, its crew too shaken to continue.

  Another half hour passed with two more tanks taking hits and withdrawing. The shield walls in front of the tanks were taking a beating but holding firm, the heavy steel plates showing signs of extreme torture as unleashed by the defenders.

  It was then when Roger Dumas raised a flag above his tank. It was the signal to switch rounds. Only seconds passed before the first explosive round found its mark, widening a two-meter-deep hole in the London defense wall from three meters to six. The top edge of that section of wall fell forward, crumbling to the ground.

  Up and down the line the high explosives were doing their damage. Within minutes a five-meter-thick section of wall collapsed on itself, sending the men to either side, who were already cowering from the concussions of the explosions, scrambling to run away. Minutes later, a second section of wall collapsed.

  The explosive pounding continued for another hour before a new signal flag rose over the command tank. A swift retreat saw the remaining tanks returning to a safe distance.

  Roger Dumas scanned the wall through his spyglass as Captain Monesse walked up to his tank.

  “Captain, I think that went as well as could be expected. How are the crews that pulled away early?”

  “Shaken up, but otherwise good. I wish there were a better way to shield the men inside from the concussions they are experiencing.”

  “Yes. Those can be quite distressing.”

  “How long before we go back in?”

  “As soon as our ammunition has been reloaded.”

  “We will be ready.”

  “Here.” The spyglass was handed down to the captain. “Look at what we've accomplished.”

  “Impressive. Every twenty meters a small section is little more than a pile of rubble. That entire expanse of wall is no longer usable.”

  “Exactly as planned. We've just cut their ability to defend in this direction by a third. Fewer cannons will be targeting us on this next run. And fewer still during the one after. I believe the entire wall from that tower on the left to this one over here will be in ruin before the day is out.”

  “What then?”

  “Then we move east to the next section. That will be tomorrow's business. The section to the west will be for the day after.”

  “Are we planning an assault to follow?”

  “Tomorrow we will be sending messengers to Napoleon's command. If he has any wit about him he will march his force around to this location. That long pile of rubble will do little to stop an infantry assault.”

  “They have more troops, Admiral. And those troops are armed with the same weapons. I would have to believe any such assault will be costly.”

  “I am always open to suggestions, Captain.”

  Monesse looked up and down the wall defenses. “With these sections gone, they will still have twenty or more artillery pieces that can hit this field. With those in place, our infantry will be cut in half by the time they cross to the wall. I would suggest we take the tanks into the city where we can destroy those cannons. After that we use our cannons and rifles to deal with their troops as we encounter them.”

  “With the walls down they are certain to be barricading the streets.”

  “All the more reason for our armored attack, Admiral.”

  Roger Dumas gave a nod as the spyglass was handed back up to him. “You are a skilled tactician, Captain. I'll give this idea some thought as this next assault gets underway.”

  Naffi forwarded to the playback where the next sections of wall were beginning to fall. “We lost our first tank during this fight. It took a round to the end of the barrel. Unfortunately for her crew, the breach was open for a reload at the moment of impact.”

  Reno nodded. “It appears the Brits have yet to decide on a counter to these assaults. Can I guess correctly this new section of wall fails just as the last?”

  “You may. And I sent word to Napoleon of our progress. We complete our mission before the arrival of his troops tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow. The recording ends tomorrow. Can I assume that means another death?”

  Naffi sighed. “You can. And please stop trying to guess the outcome of each battle. When you are correct it takes much of the joy out of the replay.”

  Reno chuckled. “Joy out of the replay? Is there no joy in the adventure itself? I would think being able to fight in a war without the risk of death or injury to be a wondrous experience all on its own.”

  “It is. And the retelling of that adventure allows an extension of the joy that was experienced. Telling it to someone who already knows... strips that joy away. It just becomes a chore.”

  “Understood. Now if we can proceed, I would like to see the results of your chore and then your final demise. Those will bring joy to me.”

  Naffi stared for several seconds before the recording was forwarded to the actual invasion.

  The final section of the northern wall had collapsed. The tanks were restocked with ammunition and fuel as the crews came out to stretch their legs. Word came back that the lead columns of Napoleon's troops were only a kilometer away. With his spyglass, Roger Dumas was able to see the tops of their unit banners as they bobbed along just over the rise of a hill.

  “Captain. Pass word that our time has come. On this assault we will continue all the way to the rubble of the wall and up and over. The treads on these tanks will allow it. Once inside the walls our first order is to kill those remaining artillery pieces. We take those out and our infantry have full access to the damaged wall.”

  A nearby corporal pointed. “Admiral. We have a messenger coming forward.”

  Dumas scowled. “To your tanks! We leave immediately.”

  The captain asked, “May I ask what the rush is, sir?”

  “The rush is we need to get this underway before Napoleon takes control. There is a high likelihood he will camp his force here and negotiate for peace.”

  “Is that not a good thing?”

  “Not when there are three hundred thousand infantrymen waiting just inside those walls. The British remain in a position of strength. Unless we go in there now this will end in a stalemate. We go in, we kill those cannons that are a danger to this field, and we clear out an area of the city near this wall. Our negotiating power will be amplified by our much stronger position. Now go. And hurry.”

  The fleet of tanks were powered up and sped out onto the field. This time, the shielding trailers had been left behind. The chance of taking a hit while mobile was far less than when stationary. The command tank with Roger Dumas was the first to reach the wall.

  Counter to prior thoughts, the rubble was far more difficult to transit than believed. Large chunks of stone hampered their ability to climb up and over the debris. But without the threat of artillery pounding their positions beside the former wall, time to cross over was something they had.

  The tank of Captain Monesse was the first to reach the street on the other side. A close-quarters cannon shell strike to his turret saw a crew that was temporarily disabled. The tank of Roger Dumas, acting as a shield, pulled in front, taking a hard blow to their forward armor, but the clone and his crew retained their wit.

  A single, exploding, retaliatory shell saw a quick end to the cannon that had fired. The automatic rifles on the hull soon cleared the street of British fighters. Tanks poured in up and down the damaged stretch of wall. Shots fired up onto the high walls saw half the remaining northern-facing artillery scrapped within the first two minutes. The rest were disabled in the ten minutes that followed.

  As the tanks fanned out, care was taken to not expose them to artillery that had been
positioned behind barricades in the streets. A dash across an alleyway was fraught with danger, but quickly revealed if there was an issue. The tactical training Roger Dumas had given to his commanders and gunners was serving them well. Street-to-street combat in the rapidly moving tanks was a thing of wonder.

  Reno watched with full attention. “Whoa. Watch that last street. There were two cannons facing this way.”

  Naffi smirked. “Telling me now doesn't offer much help. Remember, this happened more than fifty thousand years ago.”

  Reno slowly nodded. “I know. It's just so easy to get into the back and forth. I can only imagine the real excitement of being there to experience it live. And I'm only referring to this battle. I obviously have the life experience from my own journeys.”

  Naffi pointed. “Watch this one. I stopped our progress mid street. Two cannons fired at once. One shell zipping past in front and the other behind. My gunner was able to take out both cannons before they could get off another shot. I just wish I could communicate with the other tanks.”

  “Send me back next and I will attempt to build us a set of radios. With those you would be able to fully coordinate with your other troops. And if desired, we could provide the technology to Napoleon. Imagine the precision of his maneuvers should he be able to give orders directly.”

  “That would be an excellent addition.”

  Reno looked at the recording. “It only shows another five minutes. May I ask what happened or would you prefer I watch?”

  Naffi reached out and stopped the recording. “I'm not certain as to what happened. We were cruising down a street and all of the sudden everything went black.”

  “An artillery hit?”

  “Possibly. Do the archives reflect any difference?”

  Reno moved up to the console and typed away. “Hmm. Still no change to our Opamari ancestry. And interesting...”

  Naffi pulled close. “What? What is it?”

  “It says the British used a weapon called a rocket propelled grenade to subdue the tanks. Napoleon never breached the wall. Instead, a force of just over one hundred thousand British troops exited the South gate and made their way around to his western flank. At the same time, ten divisions of Scotsman attacked from the north. Napoleon was pushed back to the sea, captured, and summarily executed. The French convention reassembled and negotiated a peace. Twenty years down the road, the Empire once again broke apart.”

  “This is getting frustrating. Our brilliant General is not making the best of decisions.”

  Reno leaned back in his chair. “I'm not so certain. I think this is more the work of Nunol and Marwal. Your tanks should have been able to rule those streets. And had Napoleon entered the city after you, he still would have been surrounded, captured, and executed. We seem to have lost our advantage here.”

  Naffi stood and scowled at the black display. “RPGs, I wonder how far Nunol and Marwal are willing to take this technology race. There is far more we can introduce to this time period. What if we expand our efforts? What machinery do we need in order to modify these tanks to make them more formidable? And what about Howitzers or missiles? We have rockets. What if we protected Napoleon's forces with rockets?”

  “I would have suggested an alternative of you taking the tank force north to engage the Scots as they marched your way, but it would have been likely they possessed the RPGs as well. And even if I were to go back to try to assist, I would only have enough time to build and deliver another dozen tanks.”

  “Perhaps there is another course of action we could take. If I can get Napoleon to head immediately west we could move his force back to Portsmouth, buying us needed time to come up with a new strategy for attack.”

  Reno chuckled. “Retreat? After the victories he's seen? I don't know that retreat is an option.”

  “Ready a clone to send back.”

  “You should take a break. Eat some food and get some sleep.”

  “I don't have time for those right now.”

  “Ah. But you do. This station is in transit to a new location after your most recent journey. We won't be ready to send back a clone for another eleven hours.”

  “How quickly I forget. We should recapture Marwal. It gives us the freedom to move about without having to look over our shoulders.”

  Reno tilted his head in thought. “We do have his most recent jump location. Right into the heart of London. Give me a moment.”

  Reno typed on the console. An image of the Tower of London appeared.

  “Interesting. I believe he may have taken over the tower of London. The archives mention a Sir Roderick Brown who is rumored to have provided the technology that defeated the French. It is said that he and his secretive cabal occupied the Tower of London. I think we may have stumbled onto Marwal.”

  Naffi leaned in. “Do we have schematics of the complex?”

  “We do. Please tell me you aren't thinking of going in after him.”

  “My initial thought is to send in a team to kidnap him and bring him out. But now that you mention it, I do... at least my clone does, look exactly like him. I could waltz right in and carry him out in a box. Everyone would think I was Sir Roderick Brown.”

  “We need to do extensive planning before deciding on whether or not this is feasible.”

  Naffi smiled. “It's feasible. And it would give us the opportunity to finish our assault of Britain without his technological interference.”

  “You do realize there is a secondary danger as well, right?”

  “My capture? Steps can be taken to prevent it. There is always the swallowing of a poison pill or a self-inflicted gunshot to the heart or head... I think I would prefer head on that one.”

  “Please just agree to first plan this out.”

  “I tell you what, you be against it, I'll be for it, and when the time comes, we'll see who has the strongest argument for their position.”

  Reno stared for several seconds. “I already don't like the sound of that.”

  “Then it is your job to convince me I shouldn't go between now and that time.”

  Reno looked at the display in front of them. “Ten hours and fifty-eight minutes... I don't know if that will be enough time.”

  Several hours were spent on the study of the tower and the surrounding city of 1800 A.D. London. It was reasoned the best way in would be by a landing at Portsmouth followed by a run up to the Thames river. A skiff would be acquired and the approach to the tower would be by water, coming downriver.

  Reno was not thrilled with the idea as there would most certainly be guards posted who were watching the docks. Naffi countered by bringing up an image of Sir Roderick Brown.

  “This jacket and trousers, and that wig and those shoes. We should be able to get a tailor in Calais to replicate those for us. Even those medals and badges on his chest.”

  Reno frowned. “That is a painted image. I very much doubt he would have dressed in that manner on a daily basis. That would have been the rare occasion where he was forced to attend a state function. And I don't think Marwal is the type who relished those types of meets, where you would have been just that type. And I would have to believe Nunol would have discouraged it. Interactions change the future. Something they both remain opposed to.”

  Naffi rubbed his chin. “I just had an interesting thought. What if we were to change sides?”

  “What?”

  “We know in the current archive it says Napoleon is captured and executed. What if I go in and replace Marwal, and we then use technology to build a British Empire?”

  Reno shook his head. “I don't think it would work.”

  “Why not?”

  “On the French side we have a want-to-be Emperor. On the British side we have a newly empowered Parliament. They seem much more intent on peaceful coexistence and expansion of trade than empire building. Not that they don't have the capability or that they couldn't be convinced, but at the moment they are leaning away from military conquest. And such a swap would re
quire us to go out and to conquer Europe, whereas today with the French, we currently hold that territory.”

  “Hmm. A reasoned argument. Let's get back to our plan of capturing Marwal's clone.”

  “We should take a rest. The planning will be here when we return, and our minds will be fresh.”

  Naffi stared and then gestured toward the door. “Fine. You first.”

  Chapter 12

  _______________________

  Roger Dumas steamed across the Channel aboard one of the steel-clads before being deposited at the beachhead docks. A horse was waiting and a ride inland began.

  Reno stopped the playback. “What is this? What are you doing?”

  “I felt compelled to stop and visit with the old woman and her daughter. I'll have to admit I was longing to see her.”

  “We have an important mission to run and you're stopping to gallivant around with some random woman?”

  “She's not random. And I wasn't gallivanting. Heather and her mother were kind to me. I felt I owed them something for that kindness.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I brought gifts. Foods from France and a sack of gold coins so they would not have to struggle to survive.”

  “They have to know you are French now. You're invading their country.”

  “They know. That fact almost earned me another pitchfork from the old woman. Heather didn't seem to care. I think she likes me.”

  Reno shook his head. “A woman in every port, Admiral Dumas?”

  “I haven't bothered with Human women since the Civil War in America. I only stayed for an hour and was then on my way.”

  The playback was forwarded to a scene of the Thames just upriver from London. A small village, Wandsworth, now occupied by French soldiers, held a number of small boats at the riverside docks. An owner was located and a gold coin paid for a skiff. It was an eight-kilometer row going down to the Tower of London.

  Naffi said, “It took longer than I thought. I hadn't accounted for the tide coming in and slowing the currents.”