Prelude to Waterloo

Almost six ago today I stood on the battlefield of Waterloo for the 200th anniversary. Here is why.

In 2013 politics happened in the British Napoleonic Association and the French General resigned. For some ridiculous reason in May 2014 I was elected to rise from my position of Corporal to become the new General. This was not the first time it had happened to me. A similar situation occurred at Blindheim in 2004.

My first problem was to get a uniform. I bought from my predecessor his second best uniform coat. I bought a new pair of knee-high boots. I already had buckskin cavalry breeches for riding and all the necessary small clothes. The bicorne was a problem. The only major supplier in Europe was sold out, and in any case it would cost at least €600.

In 2013 politics happened in the British Napoleonic Association and the French General resigned. For some ridiculous reason in May 2014 I was elected to rise from my position of Corporal to become the new General. This was not the first time it had happened to me. A similar situation occurred at Blindheim in 2004.

I bought a blank and made up the best hat I could in the circumstances. Arriving at Waterloo for the 2014 reenactment I went to the hat supplier on site and managed to buy the correct hat lace for €200.

After spending most of the morning fruitlessly trying to track down the French Commander-in-Chief to introduce myself I joined my former regiment for drill, as a bystander.

Shortly afterwards I was approached by the French Commander, asking why I was there. I explained in French that I was the new General of the French Army in Britain and that I had been trying to contact him for a month, not least that morning.

He dismissed my uniform as “folklorique”. My breeches ought to be of fine wool, my coat decoration was clearly machine-embroidered* and my hat was incorrect. Dismissing my explanation that I had only 4 weeks to prepare and that we were not actually on inspection at Versailles, he banished me from his army.

I had previously experienced the character of this chap a couple of years before when I was a simple fusilier, and our army of volunteers had mutinied and ignored his orders to continue a parade after 3 hours in 35° heat when he finally decided to arrive to review “his” army.

Somewhat nonplussed I resolved to have nothing further to do with this “gentleman”. I dressed myself in my best period civilian garb and went to visit the British camp at Hougoumont.

There I was welcomed as a friend and asked by the British C-in-C to join his staff for the day as a “disaffected Bourbon officer”. I acquired a white cockade for my top hat and enjoyed the battle from the other side as an Aide de Camp.

Tomorrow. Preparations

*A hand-embroidered coat would cost in the region of £5000. Not in my wildest dreams.