Grunt No Quarter!

'Well, this is dismal', says General Rheinfunkt in a dispirited fashion. His gloomy demeanor is not just because he is in the company of Horace de Saxe. Far worse even than the presence of this philosophical fool is the condition of the general's army. As he listens to the reports from his staff officers, the news just continues to get worse. In addition to the casualties in the Gelderland army caused by the plague, his Nabstrian allies have decided to do a brave Sir Robin and abandon the field - the threat of disease is too much for them. His army thus has been shorn not only of a good proportion of its manpower, it has also lost use of the fine Nabstrian siege train. To breach the enemy walls, Rheinfunkt's army now has only field pieces and a single Bachscuttel mortar.

'I have a solution to all our problems!' says Horace, interrupting proceedings. All eyes turn toward him.

'I should feel relief', says Rheinfunkt, sadly. 'And yet, for some strange reason, I don't'.

Horace leads the general to the outskirts of the camp. He reaches a small hill and then gestures towards a figure waiting upon it. 'Behold, general! The answer to our problems!'
'Who', says the general warily, 'is this?'
In front of them is a grubby looking peasant. He smells quite distinctly of pigs.
'Let me introduce you to  Arnold Plugg, mercenary engineer: lately from Austria and now available for hire!'
There is silence.
Horace coughs, embarrassed. 'Do say hello to him, general'
'I can't see him', snaps Rheinfunkt. 'There is a grubby peasant standing in the way'.
'No, my lord: this is the man himself, awaiting your pleasure'.

Rheinfunkt looks aghast. 'My pleasure? My pleasure would be if he took that fork and stuffed it up your ...'
'General! General!' interrupts Horace, 'I should say that that is no way to speak to a fellow military professional.'
'I would agree completely. So it's lucky that he is just a fetid pig farmer that is wasting my time. Look at him. Does he look like an engineer? Do real engineers look and smell like that?'
'My lord, my lord', says Horace placatingly. 'It is true that this fellow is somewhat unconventional in his demeanor and approach. But isn't that always the case with a genius? Believe me, using his techniques we shall soon have a hole blown in the enemy walls: and then we shall storm Fort Pippin, death to all and no quarter granted!'

'But look at him!' says Rheinfunkt. 'How many military engineers dress themselves in such a way. Is he Spanish? And look: he's wearing a cod piece - how bad must he be that he is routinely in such danger of being kneed in hs groin that he needs some protection there?'
'Don't worry, general! All will be revealed! Herr Plugg -  off you go and bring back the components of your stratagem'. The fellow turns and trots off to a nearby cart.

Rheinfunkt blanches. 'Look, he hasn't even got any trousers on! One common feature of all of the military engineers that I have ever met is that they have been very clear about the need to wear britches'.
'I think that those are indeed britches', protests Horace.
'Then why', says the general, 'can I see a flap at the back?'
'Perhaps it's a pocket?' suggests Horace, weakly.
'A pocket?' What would any sane man keep stored in there?'

Rheinfunkt furrows his brows. This creates an effect rather like two hairy caterpillars walzing badly. Though, to be fair, the number of dance-trained caterpillars is probably quite small.
'You are wasting my time, Saxe!' bellows the general. 'Again!' he adds.
'Wait! Wait!', says Horace earnestly. 'You'll see. When he comes back - the answer to all our prayers!'
'If it's an answer to my prayers', says Rheinfunkt, 'he'll be bringing back a shovel that I earnestly hope will be applied to flattening your head and then burying you both!'
A few moments later, Herr Plugg returns. He is not alone.
'No', says Rheinfunkt. 'No, no, no, no, no'.
'Oh yes, I should think so ...' says Horace.