Eight o'clock in the morning, May 26th, 1801. At Romney Marsh.
Napoleon stepped out of the tent, his movements weary. He rubbed his eyes, trying to dispel the remnants of sleep that clung to him.
The ground beneath his boots was damp with dew, the air crisp and filled with the scent of salty air. The sky overhead was overcast, casting a gray pallor over the landscape. Despite the early hours, the camp was a hive of activity. Soldiers moved with purpose, officers barked orders, and the sounds of horses and wagons punctuated the morning stillness.
He straightened his coat and walked through the camp, an effective way to get one's awake. Even though he could have not slept if he chose to, he found it prudent that he had to take it as today was an important day for the French Army.
"Good morning, Your Excellency, I was about to visit your tent and wake you up," Berthier said as he approached Napoleon.
Napoleon gave a half-smile. "I don't need someone waking me up. Anyways, what news do you have for me?"
Berthier adjusted the papers in his hands and cleared his throat. "Your Excellency, we still don't know where the British are placing their defenses, but we have checked the three cities that you targeted. There were British troops in the area."
"It doesn't really matter if we don't know where their main force is, Berthier. Because the Corps system that I developed would work perfectly in this situation," Napoleon replied confidently.
"So when shall we move, Your Excellency?" Berthier inquired.
"We will move once the soldiers have their breakfast," Napoleon answered as he glanced at one spot where soldiers were sitting around a bonfire watching as the chef cooked their simple morning meals in iron pots. "Speaking of which, I haven't had breakfast yet."
"Do you want me to arrange for your breakfast to be prepared, Your Excellency?" Berthier asked promptly.
Napoleon nodded, his stomach reminding him of its emptiness. "Yes, please. Oh, before I forget, I take it that all our troops have safely crossed the channel?"
"Indeed, Your Excellency," Berthier confirmed.
Napoleon nodded in satisfaction before returning to his tent and waiting for his breakfast to arrive.
Ten minutes later, the canvas flaps rustled as Berthier entered, accompanied by a couple of aides carrying trays laden with food. The aroma of freshly cooked bread and steaming coffee wafted through the air, invigorating his senses.
"Your breakfast, Your Excellency," Berthier announced as he set the tray down on a makeshift table.
Napoleon thanked him and gestured for the aides to leave.
Napoleon took a few more bites of his breakfast, savoring the flavors as his energy slowly returned. He glanced up at Berthier, who was still waiting by the table, his demeanor as composed and attentive as ever.
"Is there any place that you want to visit after your breakfast, Your Excellency?" Berthier inquired
Napoleon considered the question for a moment, his mind shifting through the various tasks and preparations that lay ahead. Then, a thought occurred to him.
"I'd like to visit the medical tent," Napoleon replied. "I want to see how our wounded soldiers are faring and ensure that they're receiving the care they need."
Berthier nodded in understanding. "Of course, Your Excellency. I'll escort you there once you've finished your breakfast."
Napoleon appreciated Berthier's promptness and willingness to accommodate his request. With a nod of gratitude, he continued to eat his breakfast.
Once he had finished his meal, Napoleon pushed the empty plate aside and stood up from the makeshift table. Berthier was still nearby, awaiting his command.
"Let's go, Berthier."
"Right away, Your Excellency,"
Berthier immediately stepped forward and led the way.
Napoleon followed closely, his coat billowing slightly in the breeze as he walked.
As they approached the medical tent, Berthier held back the flap for Napoleon to enter and there he saw the medics tending to the wounded soldiers. They were administering treatments, changing bandages, and providing words of comfort to the injured soldiers.
Napoleon's presence drew a few glances, but the medical team remained steadfast in their duties.
"It's the First Consul…" One of the soldiers spoke in a hushed tone to the soldier next to him. The soldier, who had been receiving treatment for a leg wound, turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of Napoleon.
Napoleon moved quietly among the cots, his gaze shifting from one soldier to another. He observed the expressions on their faces – some were stoic, enduring their pain with silent resolve, while others wore pained expressions that revealed the depth of their suffering.
He approached a young soldier with a missing arm, who was being tended to by a medic. The soldier's eyes widened in surprise as he realized who was standing before him. Napoleon offered a gentle smile and a nod of acknowledgment.
"You were the first batch to land at Romney Marsh," Napoleon said. "Thanks to you, France has taken its first steps toward victory.
The young soldier managed a faint smile. "It's an honor to serve under your leadership, Your Excellency. Don't worry sir, once I'm fully healed, I'll join you in the front. I still can fire my musket and fight for our country."
"There's no doubt about that," Napoleon chuckled. "Sadly, there's no sugarcoating it but you are not fit to serve in the Army. But don't worry, I'm not going to toss a soldier who has fought for France aside so easily. You will be compensated for your sacrifice and service," Napoleon said compassionately.
The young soldier looked both surprised and relieved, gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thank you, Your Excellency. I'll continue to do whatever I can for France, even if it's not on the front lines."
Napoleon smiled before looking around the tent. This was a huge improvement from his first campaign when he was given the command of Italy. There, soldiers were lying on the dirty ground, barely receiving any care, and dying slowly from disease and neglect.
The medical tent after all should raise the morale of the troops, making them eager to join in the battle once they were healed.
Before leaving the medical tent, he exchanged words with the nurses and doctors who were working tirelessly to tend to the wounded. He commended their efforts and assured them that their dedication was not going unnoticed.
As Napoleon stepped back into the open air, his mind returned to the task at hand.
"Berthier, gather the troops in the center, I want to make a speech," Napoleon ordered.
Berthier immediately nodded and set out to organize the soldiers in the center of the camp. The word spread quickly, and soon the troops were assembled.
Napoleon walked to the front of the formation, behind him were his Generals.
"Soldiers of France! You have now set foot on the British lands. The Normans faced these shores once, and now we stand here, united and determined, ready to make history once again! Today, we are going to march to London itself, to show the British that their defenses cannot hold back the might of the French Republic!"
A wave of enthusiastic cheers erupted from the soldiers, their spirits lifted by Napoleon's words.
"Remember the words I told you before we embarked on this campaign, that we are not conquerors, but liberators of the oppressed. Our cause is just, our mission is clear. We carry with us the principles of the Revolution, and it is our duty to spread these ideals far and wide. As we march towards London, remember that we are not waging war against the people, but against the oppressive rule that seeks to stifle their voices and suppress their aspirations!"
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