Saturday 11 January 2020

Parallel Whines!

It is a truth universally acknowleged, that a besieging army in possession of a third parallel must be in want of an assault upon the enemy glacis. Brevet Brigadier General Ernst Leopold von Rheinfunkt, commander of the forces of the Spasmodic Sanction currently besieging Fort Pippin, is considering intently just this topic. (Below) Work continues on the third parallel, with the communication trench well advanced. Gabions have been placed and will soon be covered with earth to complete the connecting trench to the second parallel. Examining through his telescope the progress made on the last of the parallels, Rheinfunkt ruminates on the most efficacious next steps for his army.


'What?' says Horace de Saxe, from his wicker carriage.
'I said "efficacious"', replies the general. 'As in, we must consider the most effective next step'.
'Why do we need plants?' replies Horace. 'Will we be using them as cover for the advance of our troops. Like the king in that play by Shakespeare. You know - M .. M ... ah ... Much Ado About ..um .. a Midsummer... Henry'.
Rheinfunkt sighs. 'That's "herbaceous" - so no'.
It has been a long Christmas, with not much festive cheer for the Nabstrian and Gelderland troops. The rank and file have spent a cold and gloomy time in the trenches. For the officers, some attempt at least was made to lift their spirits with a banquet. Rheinfunkt's cook had promised a "yummy Yule-tide extravaganza". Serving up a lavish dish consisting of a partridge stuffed inside a chicken that was itself stuffed inside a swan, Rheinfunkt was of the opinion that it would have been more enthusiastically received if the chef had first killed the animals. The swan, in particular, had given everyone a very accusatory look.


(Above) Work is also underway to expand the length of the parallel. This will allow artillery to be brought forward and the largest possible assault force deployed in the position. Rheinfunkt is still worried, however. Operations here must be completed as soon as possible; his troops, though, seem to be wasting too much time. The general isn't surprised: he has a low opinion of his men, considering them to be soft and floppy: the snowflakes of generation M. Some, indeed, had deserted when they found that there would be no presents on Christmas morning. For Rheinfunkt, Christmas wasn't about such material things as sweets and spinning tops - it was about character-building traditions: communal singing; church; rickets; religious genocide.
Noting now that some of the troops seem to be knocking off for a rest. Rheinfunkt scowls.
'What time is it, Saxe?' he asks.
Horace fiddles with his watch. 'What time would you like it to be, Rheinfunkt?'
'What?' says the general. 'Well, I think that it might be around three, but ...'
'Three it is,' replies Horace, pushing the hands of his pocket watch to three o'clock and then holding it up for the general's inspection.
'What sort of watch is that?' says Reheinfunkt. 'Doesn't it have a clockwork mechanism?'
'No, no', replies de Saxe. 'It's digital'.
'Digital?'
'Yes, I just use my fingers. That way, in war everything happens for me on time'.


'I don't think ...', says the general, rubbing his temples, 'that it works like that, Saxe. Time just doesn't work like that. There's immutable laws - physics; science; reason; sanity'.
'For success in war', says Saxe sanctimoniously, 'one must think outside of the box'.
'Yes, Saxe. But one must at least recognise that there is a box. What you're in danger of doing is less "thinking outside the box" than it is pretending the box is a sheep from a small village near Dresden and then marrying it. We must continue to approach this operation with professionalism, and with due regard to such constant and critical factors as time, the enemy, and the customs of war. Then, victory will be ours. Our siege progresses; the enemy are trapped; there is no sign yet of the Fenwickian relief force. The enemy are like a tiny shrimp that has been eaten by a nasty fish'.
'Really?'
'Yes - they are in  a very bad plaice'.
'Indeed, general. Just so long as they don't launch a sortie against us that overwhelms our third parallel; destroys it; and puts back our operations such that the enemy relief army could indeed arrive before the fort falls'.
Rheinfunkt sighs. 'You just can't can't help yourself, Saxe, can you ...'

2 comments:

  1. That third parallel looks dangerously close to the glacis. If ever there was a time for the garrison to sally forth, it must be soon approaching...I do hope the Nabstrian besiegers double their guard...

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  2. Indeed - it's the perfect time. Which is uncanny - because, if I'm not mistaken, I hear the sound of sally being prepared to go forth.

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