Episode 115: What Do We Fight For? (4) Mid-June, when the scorching sunlight was starting to warm the ground.
Mathieu, an infantry captain of the Kingdom of France, felt like he was going to die from the fire boiling in his gut.
"Absolutely not! No matter what happens—no!"
"Whyyyyyy!!"
"Why?! Why—? No, are you seriously saying that right now?!"
Is this crazy woman actually out of her mind and trying to get herself killed?
"Of all things, you want to follow me to the battlefield?!"
"Mathieu, I may look like this, but I'm the woman who took the Bastille Fortress!"
"Is that the same thing as this? And after you got chewed out by me over the Bastille, you've got a lot of nerve acting proud!"
"Hmph! I don't care. I'm going with you no matter what. And the enemy invaded our land—what French person would just sit there with their hands in their lap and watch?"
"...Ah, I'm going to lose my mind."
Mathieu clutched his spinning head and let out a deep sigh.
A normal person would break into a cold sweat and have their legs shaking just from hearing the word "war," but this woman, Anne-Josèphe Théroigne—what the hell was she made of? She'd somehow gotten her hands on a musket and slung it over her shoulder, and she was raising hell insisting she was going with Mathieu.
Ah. No—this was who she'd always been. Wasn't she the woman who'd captured the Bastille Fortress behind her lover's back?
"Mathieu, is something the matter? We're departing for Amiens soon, so get ready."
"Ah, Grouchy—… No. Second Lieutenant Grouchy."
"Come on. There aren't any soldiers here besides us, so don't be so stiff—call me like you usually do. But who is this young lady?"
Second Lieutenant Emmanuel de Grouchy lifted his cavalry cap slightly and nodded a greeting toward Théroigne.
"This is my fiancée, Anne-Josèphe Théroigne. Théroigne—this is Second Lieutenant Emmanuel de Grouchy, my senior from the military academy."
"Nice to meet you, Second Lieutenant Grouchy! I'm Théroigne."
"Ah, so this is the lady Mathieu said he was seeing—and she's this beautiful. Nice to meet you, Ms. Théroigne. I'm Grouchy, a cavalry second lieutenant of the Kingdom of France."
With Mathieu between them, the two exchanged greetings.
"But Mathieu, why do you look like you're going to a funeral?"
"My fiancée is stubborn as hell."
"...Stubborn?"
"Second Lieutenant! Listen—if you're a normal French person, isn't it only natural that you'd want to go to the battlefield and fight the enemy right now?!"
"...I suppose so?"
Still not understanding what was going on, Grouchy nodded—and Théroigne's nose lifted as if she'd been waiting for that exact moment.
"See, Mathieu?! I told you I'm a perfectly normal French person! Hurry up and take me to the battlefield!"
"...I'm going to lose it."
"Haha. You've got it rough, Mathieu. Young lady, would you like to speak with me for a moment?"
Grouchy cleared his throat twice and spoke.
"I'll speak as a soldier, Ms. Théroigne. Please withdraw that request."
"But!"
"The more civilians there are on a battlefield, the more a soldier has to protect. And if the person on the battlefield is someone he loves, then all the more."
"...."
"Your feelings are admirable, Ms. Théroigne, but we are soldiers going to war. We cannot allow even the smallest chance of an unexpected situation. Please remain in Paris and steadfastly support Mathieu from behind."
"...Understood, Second Lieutenant."
Grouchy smiled, satisfied, looked at Mathieu, and continued.
"The woman who'll be your wife is very devoted, Mathieu, isn't she?"
"Ahem."
"Mathieu, I'll give you a generous twenty minutes. That's enough time to play with fire once with the young lady, right?"
"W-what? You crazy bastard!"
"Does infantry dare covet cavalry mobility? More importantly, ten seconds have already passed, Mathieu!"
Having contemptuously dodged the fist of justice, Grouchy whistled and hurried off toward the soldiers.
Mid-June, 1791.Kingdom of France, Versailles.National Assembly.
"This is news from Lille's National Guard! Ten thousand royalist troops led by Artois crossed the border and attacked Lille!"
"We contacted the naval infantry at Calais, but they say it will take considerable time to reach Paris!"
"Urgent report! Lille has fallen! Refugees are flooding into Amiens and Saint-Quentin!"
The enemy was closing in on Paris.
"Marquis de Lafayette—shouldn't we call Marquis de Lafayette back to Paris?!"
"Marquis de Lafayette and General Kellermann are engaged with the Prussian army at Valmy! Find another way!"
"How many National Guard troops remain in the capital region?"
"Four thousand under Colonel Napoleon Bonaparte are stationed in Reims."
"Damn it, that's nowhere near enough."
Maybe because they were trying to forget their fear, the deputies kept rambling on with talk that had no real productivity.
Then—he arrived.
"Greetings, deputies. I am Finance Minister Guillaume de Toulon. With the fate of our revolutionary government hanging by a thread, I request that the Assembly pass a full-support bill so that Colonel Napoleon Bonaparte can face the enemy with sufficient manpower and supplies."
"Finance Minister! The enemy is ten thousand elite troops! Even if we issue conscription, they'll all be raw recruits—can Colonel Bonaparte fight them with recruits?"
"It's Napoleon. Of course he can."
What, I'm holding an SSSSR-rank cheat card, a royal straight flush, the Army's Yi Sun-sin—why would I panic?
"Finance Minister Guillaume de Toulon, as the executive's representative, has submitted an emergency conscription and requisition bill to the Assembly! We must move to a vote at once!"
"Of 721 deputies, 721 in favor—I declare that the one-hundred-thousand conscription bill and related bills have passed unanimously."
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Three crisp strikes of the National Assembly's gavel rang out on the wooden block.
Alright. The laws were made. Now it was time to run my mouth a little.
"In the name of the revolutionary government and Finance Minister Guillaume de Toulon, all organizations nationwide that possess forges and iron-smelting furnaces are hereby requisitioned for the duration of the war. Blacksmiths and artisans are also subject to conscription. Do not worry. After we defeat the enemy near Paris, all requisition and conscription orders will be void. Any property lost due to the state during wartime will also be fully compensated later without exception."
"Making guns is fine, but what about material costs, Finance Minister?!"
"I'll give you government bonds—securities you can convert to cash at any time. If you wait until maturity, we'll add three percent to the principal."
"Ooh…"
"To monasteries nationwide—especially monasteries that also serve as medical facilities—this is a notice to monks and nuns. This is announced by National Assembly deputy Emmanuel-Joseph Sieyès, Archbishop of Chartres. The sons of all France are heading to the battlefield to protect the people. Please join the National Guard even briefly, and save as many lives as you can—one more, if possible. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit—may God protect France. Amen."
Starting with me, Archbishop Sieyès, and countless others began running themselves ragged.
"I am National Assembly deputy Talleyrand. This is a notice to the nationwide coachmen's guilds. Coachmen must swiftly transport newly recruited soldiers from across the country to Paris. However, as all government capacity is focused on the war, all wages will be paid later. We apologize."
"Women of France—let us raise funds for our husbands, sons, parents, and brothers who have gone to the battlefield! So that they can camp even a little more comfortably, please—each of you, contribute what you can! I, Anne-Josèphe Théroigne, will step forward first!"
"I am Colonel Napoleon Bonaparte, acting temporary Capital Defense Commander of the National Guard. Starting today, recruitment will begin at National Guard recruiting stations nationwide. Soldiers should receive their issued gear, board the prepared carriages, and hurry up toward Paris."
From Provence in southeastern France—
"I'm here to enlist."
"Name and age?"
"André Masséna. Thirty-three."
"Any military experience?"
"I was discharged as an infantry warrant officer."
"Oh! Then starting today, André Masséna, you are a volunteer infantry battalion commander. Receive your insignia and orders at the next recruiting station and proceed to Paris."
From Paris, the heart of France—
"Édouard Mortier—I came from Lille. Put me in the army right now! The royalist bastards are trampling my hometown!"
"C-calm down… Do you have military experience?"
"No, but I can read and write."
"Then we'll grant you the rank of second lieutenant. After a brief personal questionnaire, wait at the assembly point."
"Major Antoine Desaix is promoted to colonel and appointed regimental commander of a volunteer regiment."
"I will devote my loyalty to the people's safety."
"Sergeant Nicolas Jean-de-Dieu Soult is commissioned as a lieutenant in the newly established volunteer infantry. Lead the soldiers well."
"Yes! I will obey!"
All the way to Lectoure in Gers, southern France—
"Name?"
"Jean Lannes."
"Occupation?"
"Dyer."
"Can you read and write?"
"Somewhat."
"Collect your uniform and gear at the next recruiting station. And you are now a volunteer battalion second lieutenant—carry yourself properly."
"Understood."
To protect Paris, to protect the Revolution, tens of thousands of young men stepped forward with powerful strides.
Kingdom of France, Somme Department.Near Amiens.National Guard Temporary Capital Defense Command.
"Left foot! Left foot!"
"""Huff—haah!"""
"Third Battalion's almost in!"
"I—I can't run anymore…"
"My legs feel weird… my legs! My legs!"
"Blergh! Blerghh!!"
Another cluster of soldiers panted and collapsed onto the ground.
"...Third Volunteer Infantry Battalion: one hour thirty-five minutes."
"A little faster than Second Infantry Battalion?"
"Still only a ten-minute difference at best."
Click.
After timing them with a pocket watch, Napoleon carefully wrote each battalion's march time into his notebook.
"Tch. What a mess. Over an hour and a half for a mere ten-kilometer run."
"What can you do? Most of them didn't even know the 'g' in soldier until recently."
People who'd been digging dirt, hauling goods to sell—just because you shoved a rifle in their hands didn't mean they'd become special forces overnight.
"Ts… that's true. But Guillaume—why are you here?"
"Me? Well…"
Because I wanted to see for myself how great this historical figure Napoleon really was—and because I'd already said it out loud.
I lit my pipe and spoke.
"I told people, all stylishly, 'I'll march at your side!' If I stay holed up in Paris, it looks bad. Right?"
"You really are a crazy bastard."
"And isn't it better for you if I'm here instead of having Grouchy handle staff work alone?"
"Ahem…"
"Silence means yes, they say… so you don't trust Grouchy or something…?"
"Ahem-ahem-ahem! The weather's really cold, isn't it, Guillaume?"
That's weird. Why is standard speech suddenly coming out of his mouth?
"Alright, enough pointless talk! Like you know, the outcome now depends on exactly one thing. Isn't that right, Guillaume?"
"The four thousand you trained yourself?"
"Right. How we use those guys is what'll change the whole situation."
With reinforcements joining, the unit Napoleon commanded had been reorganized into a massive force of fifteen thousand. The problem was that most of those soldiers were basically like handing a rifle to an SCV instead of a pickaxe.
"...So do you have a plan?"
Napoleon frowned for a moment, then slowly opened his mouth.
"We need to swap the hammer and the anvil."
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