Wheel Meet Again!

(Below) From their position on the battlements, Governor Schroedinger-Skatt and Colonel Entendre can hear in the gloom to their front the sounds of mortal combat. Or, combat that, if it isn't actually mortal, probably still stings quite a lot. The colonel peers into the darkness, keen to discern from the sound and the occasional sight of the orangey-red discharge of muskets, some clue as to the developing outcome of the sally.

'What do you think is going on, my lord' he asks the governor.

Schroedinger-Skatt blows his cheeks and shrugs. 'Well, Entendre; terrible defeat; embarrassing episodes of military incompetence; poorly conceived plans, executed in an even more mediocre fashion; all punctuated by an unmanly soiling of undergarments'.

'So you can see the action, sir?' replies the colonel, craning his neck enthusiastically to try and observe the enemy positions.

'Oh no, colonel', replies Schroedinger. 'I'm just using experience to fill in all the blanks'.

The fighting begins to die down, signalling that some kind of resolution might have been reached to the events of the sally. As the sound of combat dwindles, however, another sound begins and then commences to get louder. It consists of a combination of a terrible squeaking and creaking: as if a surprisingly large octogenarian mouse was trying to to sprint towards some cheese; or as if a bagpipe player, lustily winding his instrument, had just had a heavily laden cart run over his testicles. Luckily for both, it is neither. Instead (below), it is Captain Dreihumpe bringing in the remains of his command. His has with him a barrow, the wheels of which seem to have been last oiled some time before the cretaceous period. As spoils of war, the barrow isn't especially impressive; but the captain hopes that with the right narrative, the continued darkness, and perhaps some tinsel, if it can be easily obtained, it might be sufficient to have his attack judged a success.

The governor and the captain peer down into the defences. There is movement, indicating the return of the Fenwickian troops. Colonel Entendre listens to the rising din. 'Is this victory, my lord - or do you think this signals an embarrassing defeat?'
The governor snorts. 'I think, colonel, that your options are overly optimistic. I would say that the likely choices are between an extremely embarrassing defeat, and an embarrassing defeat that was made even worse by, say, the random detonation of orphans, or the arrival of some nuns. I suspect there are no good outcomes to choose from'.

(Below) As the remaining company of grenadiers nears the safety of the covered way, Dreihumpe begins to worry a little at the depressed aura surrounding his force. If he is to sell the loss of half of his mean as a military success, then it is important that his returning troops should carry with them the whiff of victory, or at least, that amongst all the other whiffs the permeate his men, victory might be a discernable sub-note.
'Men, you have done sterling work. Walk like heroes!' cries the captain.
'How do heroes walk, sir' enquires one of the men.
Dreihumpe considers this. 'Well, I suppose that one's posture would involve heaving the shoulders back, and pushing one's manly parts to the front'. This, of course, is an unwise thing to say.

Whilst the captain might have meant by the phrase 'manly parts' such things as one's chest and chin, his troops are Fenwickian and sadly have in full measure the wearisome sensitivity to double entendre for which the imperials are famous. As his command dissolves into a hooting heap of 'fnars', Dreihumpe finds a sudden practical use for his barrow - transporting the gibbering remains of his force back to the safety of his lines.

xXx

'So, we meet again', says the governor, greeting the captain unenthusiastically as the latter, having dismissed his troops, arrives to report.
Dreihumpe salutes smartly. 'I can report a great success!' he says. 'Behold!' says Dreihumpe triumphantly, gesturing towards his barrow.
'You can report a great success', says the governor, 'in the same way that I can report having given birth to an ostrich. Which is to say, that the saying of something does not in itself make that something real'. He examines the wheelbarrow. 'Why did the enemy put tinsel on it?'
'I cannot say, sir', replies the captain. 'But I guarantee, my lord, that right now the enemy are panicking, having lost their key means of wheeled mud-related transportation.'
'I wouldn't bet on it', sighs the governor. 'Soldier, are you feeling alright?' he gestures towards one of the nearby gunners. 'You look a little ... sweaty'.