HOLF Players' Guild Forum

NOTE: This was presented earlier, but, having read it again, I thought it was so entertaining, it deserves to be on the current list again....

By Henriech Hemingway, the "Hessian Herald" Reporter.

Editor's note: This was to be presented to the EL Mundo, but, due to time constraints and Henriech's propensity for procrastination , his first field report is presented here.

From: Henriech Hemingway, the "Hessian Herald" Reporter.

Whereabouts: A Hessian Major told me, “If you mention any locations in your reports, I’ll have you shot as an enemy spy." So, I'm east of Paris, and west of Moscow.

I lay beside the scout, we’ve been here for several hours hidden deep in the bushes counting different formations as they pass. I see him making notes in a small booklet, and every few minutes he’ll stop and put his field glasses to his eyes. As the last straggler goes by, he nudges me and we move to view a small supply train within the local city. He again writes in his little notebook and we start to crawl back to our tactical CP.

Ever since the falling-out I had with the Colonel, he won’t allow me near the CP, or within 100 feet of him. It really wasn’t my fault, how was I to know that “Old Bertha” was his personal mule that carries his brandy, and not his wife…I mean really, he said she could hold 2 cases…Anyways, he has no sense of humor whatsoever. I think that whole “I’ll have you hung/shot/bayoneted.” thing is getting old, and seems to be contagious whenever I’m around, strange isn’t it? Anyways, he’s busy with a courier that just arrived, and since he’s not paying much attention to me, I go to lie down under the shade of a nearby apple tree, which is handily within a dozen feet of the discussion.

They sit around a map, and the courier points out a few spots while the Colonel makes some comments, which I catch a part of, needless to say, he looks actually happy, and a wolfish grin spreads on his face.“So, we caught their supplies… outstanding, send my compliments to Colonel….I need you to tell him that we will assemble at……and have him {at this point, the Colonel notices that I’m within earshot}.

Calling over his orderly, he leans over and whispers something in his ear and the orderly rushes off.

The Colonel then pulls out his dispatch-book and writes for a few minutes, and ripping out a sheet he hands it to the courier, “Go with haste, there’s no time to lose” and with that, the courier mounts a fresh horse and off he goes.

While my attention is distracted, I didn’t notice the 2 big troopers sneaking up on me, until it was too late.

Now, I’m still enjoying the shade of the apple tree, unfortunately, I’m perched tiptoed on a chair with a rope around my neck. Next to me, the Colonel has a small tactical desk set up, with the staff around it, they seem to be enjoying the shade also, and they must be in a good mood because they keep snickering and giving me side-way glances (and some will do that silly, “ohhh, nooo, I’m choking” motion NOTE: At least they have a sense of humor, I’ll bring that up when we have the glee club).

The Colonel points at me and says in an offhand manner, “You’ll notice that I have asked Mr. Hemingway to join our meeting, sadly, he has violated my standing (Heh) order, so, I thought that his new “seating” arrangement would give him clarity of military order and discipline.

Clapping his hands together in boyish manner, he points at the map, “Gentlemen, our sister brigade has found the enemy CQ, and has destroyed their supplies, although the CQ itself escaped. Their current supply system must be struggling to maintain their MSR, and I intend to make it even harder for them.” The staff starts patting each other on their backs, obviously overjoyed at the news of the enemies’ misfortune.

I am also overjoyed at the news, but, at that moment I’m thinking to myself, I’ve never realized how tiring it is to stand on your tiptoes, and I should have practiced those ballet moves more….

“So, now we’ll seize their supply base, I have sent riders to assemble all our brigades in the region, and we’ll take that city, I know they have a militia there, and an approaching inf brigade, but, we’ll outnumber them and once that falls…along with actions by outlying light cav, they will be eating grass and shooting turds.” That gets a big laugh amongst the staff, and I’d like to join them, but the air doesn’t seem to get to where I need it to laugh, and I notice that large purple dots are beginning to blur my vision, which dampens my merriment.

After a few more moments of talking to his staff, which I can’t make out because there’s this whooshing sound that seems to be rumbling around in my ears and I realize it’s my heartbeat…and not to mention the accompanying exploding bursts of stars which is very distracting… the staff begins to assemble their commands.

Strangely, I begin to relax, seeing visions of my family and friends, along with that lovely camel that I almost bought during my brief coverage of the still-born camel corps of Hesse, sadly, Karl the camel ended up as a stew….

The last thing I remember, I thought I heard the angels’ trumpets blowing…

A sharp pain jolts me into consciousness, I’m mounted, riding beside the Colonel…not actually riding per se, but tied over “Old Bertha” ass and a corner of a case of brandy is poking me in my nether regions. Ouch.

The Colonel hears my groaning, and decides to lighten the mood. “So, not only can Bertha carry 2 cases, but also a 150 pound bag of shit, don’t you find that funny Mr. Hemingway”. My laugh comes out as more of a long high pitched snort.

Figuring I’ve discovered that the Colonel has found his long lost sense of humor, I mention…”Too bad that Old Bertha can’t cook.”

Needless to say, I rode into battle on the back of an ass.

Until next time, keep tuned to the upcoming adventures of our hero, Mr. Henriech Hemingway.

All Tuscans of age 17 and older are called to the service of the Motherland.

Effective immediately, upon reading of, or notice of, this posting you are to
report to your birthplace Provincial Courthouse for assignment.

All Tuscan Army Units are ordered to report to headquarters for deployment.

Supply Depots are to follow Plan 6 and prepare to supplement the Austrian Army.

This is not an exercise.

Refer to Code X14GHT: "The aardvark will fly. Light the upper corridor."

"So, I've heard the Germans are gathering.” mentions the local drunk on the street.

“Those Italians, they are getting ready.” Says the local wine distributor.

“I saw one of those French Marshalls talking to the Austrian ambassador in the back room yesterday”, passed along by a message from a vagrant, well-known to travel the byways of “dirty” talk.

“Russia, well, they are “related” to the Queen!” A drunken Duke mentions in his sleepy murmurs.

Last, but not least…”Reported from the all-seeing, all-knowing… the Grand Wizard of Pooh-BU, “I see storms, great storms of torment that will be visited upon the people , and war shall spread amongst us; It will start in the east, and meet those fiery hurricanes that will spring forth in the center. Eventually, they will arrive at the moat, a great water barrier, which shall be overcome….” At this point, the GWoPBU collapses.

I pass into the salon, strangely absent of customers, but yet, when I “glance” at the guest book….it’s full??? Hhhmmm, this requires further investigation….

There are many dark corners, where lovers wish to interact…But, in passing I notice…there are small groups of men without national colors, they are proud in their middle-of-the-road/bland uniforms, sitting around maps…whispering in concert. Hhhmm.

I notice a corner, bathed in soft, glowing silvery light; as compared to the deep darkness of the “other” corners….Its warmth beckons me, its pure honesty arrests my attention, which calls me away from the sirens of complicity.

And now, I find myself…entranced.

“What is it that you desire?” A nation that is good to its people and is fair with others.
“How can you achieve this?” By negotiating with everyone, and sharing our vision.
“What if they don’t share your vision?” Ok, kill those that oppose and enslave the others.
At this point, the silvery light disappears….

And by the way…just passing the time…waiting for the game…and maybe what I mentioned about diplomacy isn’t true…or maybe it is?

The General is clearly disturbed when his junior officers bring him to the establishment. Even before entering he mentions the fact of how uncomfortable he is, especially, since his troops are not allowed within the confines of this area.

He turns to those younger officers " You are well aware that every day, your men suffer hunger, and solitude, and yet you meander here, not caring , obviously, about the welfare or well-being of your men." With a flushed face, he bursts out " Do you care not about those poor men, while you would satisfy your animal and basic instincts, your men do their DUTY".

Turning about, and mounting his horse "If perhaps you want to be leaders, you must lead yourself onto the path of doing the correct, and right thing, otherwise, the easy wrong will become a standard and that path will lead us to destruction". With a twist of the reins, " Gentlemen, I expect nothing less than honour on your part", and the General rides off towards the bivouac.

Downcast, but yet uplifted, the officers look at each other shame faced..."Well, get a few bottles and we'll bring them to the pickets".

As the news spreads about the new campaign along the banks of the Cumberland, Tennessee, and Mississippi, more than one interested spectator watches with interest. The ladies of Madame Theresa’s have long waited for the resultant surge in clientele that renewed times of strive bring to their door. The girls remained firm in their resolve to assist those warriors in gaining some peace and tranquility from the toils of martial life as they labor so far from their families and homes.

As always, warriors from all sides can find a place of solace and relaxation as they seek the lone tower that marks the entranceLandmark to Madame Theresa’s Fine Establishment for Gentlemen and Officers. The renown way stop for Soldiers of character once again serves those brave fellows as they gain a few moments respite from the smell of black powder and threat of grapeshot. The services offered at this establishment range from the sublime to the raucous depending on the wishes of the patron. The ladies at Madame Theresa’s know that a Soldier’s needs are as different as their reason for being there. It does not matter to them as long as these men abide by the house rules and remember to show their gratitude before they leave.

House Rules:

• Weapons are checked at the door with cloaks, hats, and other apparel suited for the out of doors.
• The cardinal rules of decorum are always followed.
• No mention of politics
• No scandalous behavior in the front rooms
• Monetary matters are not discussed in public
• No challenges or dueling allowed on the grounds
• No blood sports allowed in any fashion
• Civility in the front rooms gains you the fullest cooperation elsewhere


• All clientele will abide by the directions of Madame Theresa in all matters brought to her attention
• Remember that you are guest
• The bar and the kitchen are always open
• Noting is too difficult for the wants and desires of the guests; however, special orders sometimes take longer to arrange

Wearing, as usual, a spotless white uniform and surrounded by Sachsen and Austrian officers, Generalleutnant von Funck from Sachsen arrived in a cheery mood. The more observant girls noticed that the general had a new medal. "I was recently honored by His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor of Austria," the general explained but didn't go into further detail.

The general expressed disappointment that during his recent visit to Wien, he stopped by the house of Josef Haydn only to find that the famous composer was away and that he possibly had left the country to visit Britain. The general then said, "The only composer I knew would be in Wien for certain was in the cemetary at St Marx and as his grave was unmarked, I wasn't able to locate him either." The general mentioned that while paying a visit to Baron van Swieten, he met a young musician from Bonn, who had moved to Wien to study under Haydn. "Herr van Beethoven is a remarkable pianist. I heard him play several pieces from Bach's 'Well Tempered Klavier.' I hope to hear him play again sometime."

The general had little to say about the recent news of the Russian declaration of war on Prussia. "It will be difficult for the Prussians to fight a two front war," was his only comment. During his meal, the general received a message that contained some distressing news. "It seems the Sachsen Elector has been serious injured. My guess is that he was thrown from an ill-tempered horse. " The general quickly finished his meal, paid, and began the long journey back to Dresden.

Sacre bleu!
Look at the lines!

All the beautiful young girls sit bored!

It seems she has called back all of the old granmeres from retirement to take care of the special needs
of her English patrons.

It was so difficult getting in the door, all of those tiny English swords were thrown on the floor in a pile.

Their young officers were lined up in the parlor, looking to negotiate Madame's cheapest 10 minute price
with her oldest woman further downward.

There must be a shortage of crowns in England!

None of them purchased the "French Letters" I offered, either . . . they will regret that in a few weeks . . .and they won't
have the money to pay for sulphur and molasses either, unless, of course, their government can find a "victim" or "ally" to
shed their blood and spend their crowns in exchange for a British promise!

Aha! War-Monger England who declared war on France WITHOUT REASON!
Purely to overthrow a government that IS NO THREAT to England!

They must do it quickly so they can take the places they need to produce income!
They are so wise! They trick everyone with their wiles!

What? Oh yes, "Le doux du Maroc" has arrived!
That woman was nearly ruined by our PM Robert "le Satyr"who learned so many strange things from
Marquis deSade.

I will do my best to be gentle, Moroccan beauty. Here are your 50 crowns, there are more if you please me.

Le doux du Maroc