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Soldier of the King - Prussian Uniforms

Though A Soldier of the King is a work of fiction, it is based on historical events and facts.  The uniforms of the period were colorful, ornate, and uncomfortable.  Here are some illustrations of these uniforms.  Click on each picture to enlarge.

A Soldier of the King - Austrian and Russian Uniforms

Though A Soldier of the King is a work of fiction, it is based on historical events and facts.  The uniforms of the period were colorful, ornate, and uncomfortable.  Here are some illustrations of these uniforms.  Click on each picture to enlarge.  Austrians are in the image to the left; Russians to the right.

A Soldier of the King - Chapter Twenty

A Soldier of the King may be purchased through the link on the left column.

Chapter Twenty:  Redemption

                   It had taken a month for the trial of Herr Mueller for murder to come to court.  For that month Mueller waited in prison.

                   Johann, Hilda, and Richard Henri returned to Herrnhut with many of the older boys - about twenty - from the Rostock Boys Orphanage.  They would stay at the Orphan House in the community until they came of age.

                   Henri and Maria also returned home to Herrnhut, and just in time.  They wrote to Richard that the day after they arrived, their first child was born, a daughter whom they named Christine.  They were anxious for “Uncle” Richard to see the newest member of the family.

                   Hans went to Herrnhut as well.  Gradually he improved - his spiritual and physical health becoming a project for the entire community.  Hans’ simple ways and practical wisdom made him a favorite of everyone - especially the children.

                   Since there was no war for the Prussian Army, Kolonel Baron von Steuben retired at the age of thirty-three.  He began to search restlessly for another army at war.  He finally arranged an appointment as chamberlain[1] to the prince of the small state of Hohenzollern-Hechingen.[2]  The baron offered Richard a position as his aide.

                   Pastor and Frau Schmidt returned home to their Lutheran parish at Warnemunde.  Richard gave to his old church his family home to be used as an orphanage to be administered by the congregation and pastor.  The younger boys from  the orphanage at Rostock - numbering about a dozen - were transferred to Richard’s old home with the prospects of better care and loving supervision.

                   Richard and Emil worked secretly on Richard’s project which involved converting his family’s savings into cash and many trips to Schwerin, the capital city of the Province of Mecklenburg.[3]

---

                   Finally, in July Herr Mueller was brought before the judge for the murder of Master-at-Arms Reinhold Reichman.  The brief trial lasted only one day, as did Richard’s.

                   Mueller’s trial was not well attended.  No one really took notice.  The one person in attendance was Richard Schuler.

                   Richard watched Mueller during the entire trial.  The man entered the courtroom, eyes blood shot and frantic.  His lower lip quivered underneath his mustache.  It appeared to Richard that Mueller had lost much weight.  Apparently, he had not eaten well or slept well during his month of waiting.

                   Richard sat straight and unmoving in his new uniform in the back of the courtroom.  Occasionally, Herr Mueller would glance back at Richard.  Their eyes would meet.  Mueller’s eyes were whimpering and pleading as if he were begging for mercy. Richard’s eyes reflected intense thought and calculation.

                   Mueller was found guilty and sentenced to death by hanging the next morning.  Justice was served.  When the verdict was read, Mueller collapsed on the floor.  Richard quietly stood and left the courtroom.

---

                   Both Herr Mueller and Richard spent sleepless nights - though in different circumstances.  Mueller in his cell was awaiting his execution.  Richard in a room in a nearby inn was praying he was doing God’s will.

                   Early that morning, two hours before the time set for the execution, both men were up and pacing.  Richard dressed in his new uniform and neatly packed his belongings in a chest.  He paused to look at the comb which his brother had made, his mother’s ring, and the family Bible with the note from his father.  I hope my family will understand what I am doing.

                   The prosecutor had offered to return the knife which had belonged to his father and which had been used in the murder, but Richard had refused that.  He placed the comb, ring, and Bible on top of his other belongings and locked the chest.  He called for a servant to carry the chest down stairs.

                   At the same time Mueller was accounting for all of his belongings.  There was not much left of his life, only what was allowed him in the jail - cup, plate, and fork.  So this is the sum of my life, he thought.  He placed his belongings in a cloth sack and handed them to the jailer.  He tried to arrange his clothing as best as he could, but his hands shook with fear.

---

                   One hour before the execution both men finished their meal.  Neither could eat well.  Richard rushed through his breakfast while Mueller took his time trying to delay the inevitable.

---

                   Emil Schmidt arrived in front of the inn in a carriage.  Richard was waiting for him and quickly got into the carriage and sat beside Emil without speaking.  Emil told the driver to go to the jail.

---

                   In the jail Herr Mueller heard slow footsteps on the stone floor.  They grew louder.

---

                   Emil shook his head.  “I am not certain I understand what you are doing.  Think of your future.  You are throwing it all away.  Let the justice system take its course.”

                   “I thank you for your concern for me,” said Richard, “but this is something I must do.”  The two boyhood friends rode together in silence.

---

                   “Herr Mueller,” said the guard, “It is time now.”

                   “Mein Gott,” whimpered Mueller, “can you not wait a little while longer?  Please?”  With that he fainted and collapsed on the floor.

---

                   Mueller was awakened by a bucket of cold water being thrown in his face.  At first he did not know what had happened or where he was.  Then he saw he was still in his cell.  He struggled to get off the floor and onto his cot.  He sat with head buried in his hands and sobbed.

                   “Herr Mueller,” called the guard who stood in the open doorway with the empty bucket.   “It appears that you have a visitor.”

                   Into the cell walked Richard.  “Would you please excuse yourself, my good man, and shut the door behind you.”

                   “Yes, sir,” said the guard with some hesitation.  “But . . . but, sir.”

                   “Thank you, that will be all!” commanded Richard.

                   The door shut and the two men were left alone.  Mueller looked up and saw Richard standing above him.  “So, Schuler, I see you’ve come to enjoy my last moments.  You want to hear me beg for mercy?  You want to see me twitch at the end of the rope?  Will that give you pleasure?”

                   “No, Herr Mueller, I am not here for that.”

                   “Well, what then?  What could possibly be your motivation for being here than to get your revenge by watching me die?  What else can you do to me?  What else is there to . . .  You are here to do it yourself, aren’t you?”  Mueller rose, wide-eyed and panicked.  “That’s it!  You will have your revenge at your own hands!  You will execute me yourself!  No!”  Mueller was shouting hysterically and backing into a corner of the cell.  He began to whimper as Richard walked toward him, “No, no, please no!  Don’t make me suffer!  Don’t torture me!  Oh God, help me!”

                   Richard reached out with his hands.  He grabbed Mueller by the front of his coat.  “God will help you, Mueller.  Listen to me!  Are you listening?”

                   Mueller tried to compose himself.  When he was quiet, Richard spoke in soft tones.  “I have purchased your pardon.  You are free to go.  Here,”  Richard held out a legal document.

                   Mueller grabbed it and read quickly.  He looked at Richard and simply said, “How?  Why?”

                   “The ‘how’ is easy,” said Richard.  “The kingdom is in need of funds to pay for the war.  The King is selling pardons - at quite a price.  I took all my family’s savings and purchased your  pardon.”

                   “But, why?” asked Mueller as he collapsed on his cot in astonishment.

                   “That is the harder question,” said Richard.  “All I can say is that my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ commanded me to do it.  I don’t really know why.  All I know is that Jesus commanded me and I obeyed.”

                   “I don’t understand.”

                   “I don’t either, Herr Mueller.  I don’t either.  All I know to say is that God loves you and will forgive you too if you will let him.”  Turning toward the door Richard shouted, “Guard.”  The guard came running.

                   “I am ready to leave now.”  The guard opened the door as Richard continued.  “Herr Mueller, the jailer knows why I have come.  He will release you immediately.  I bid you goodbye.  Rest assured I will continue to pray for you.”

                   Richard walked from the cell, leaving Mueller sitting on his cot stunned.  But he did not sit for long.  He quickly bolted from the cell waving his pardon.  The jailer muttering to himself waved Mueller out the front door, “Lucky man, that one.”

                   Mueller ran out the door to see Richard walking away.  Without looking back Richard entered the carriage as sat beside Emil.  Emil leaned out the window and shouted to the driver, “Back to the Boar’s Head Inn!”

                   Mueller ran hysterically from the jail.  He screamed and danced, laughed and cried through the streets of Rostock with no direction.

---

                   The two friends, Richard and Emil, lounged at a corner table at the inn.  They had been sitting for an hour discussing what had just transpired.

                   “Well, Richard,” said Emil, “As your lawyer it is my duty to inform you that you are now officially broke!  You have no money.  Buying that pardon cost you everything.  I hope it was worth it to you.”

                   “I guess I won’t be able to pay you,” grinned Richard.

                   “Nonsense.  It was worth the effort.  I thought you were crazy at first, but you have a good heart, a Christ-like heart.  The last month has been better than all my father’s sermons - though don’t tell him that.  Seriously, though, what will you do now?”

                   “I suppose I will accept Baron von Steuben’s offer to join him as his aide.  It will be good to have some peace and quiet for a change.”

                   “Well, you’ve earned it.  I suppose that . . . Oh no,” Emil interrupted himself.  “Look who’s up to his old habits already.”  Emil pointed to the door of the tavern.  There in the doorway stood Herr Mueller.  He frantically looked around the room.  He saw the two young men and hurried over toward them, knocking into chairs and other customers in his haste.

                   “Herr Schmidt,” Mueller’s nod almost became a bow as he greeted Emil.

                   “Herr Mueller,” Emil responded guardedly.

                   “Herr Stabskaptain Baronet von Schuler, sir,” the bow was unmistakable this time.

                   “Herr Mueller,” responded Richard.  “What may we do for you?”

                   “Nothing, sir, . . . ah . . . that is . . . you have done so much . . . I . . . was wondering if you might have some time to spare me sir.  I . . . ah . . . I would like for you to tell me, sir, how do you know God loves me?”

---

[1]A Chamberlain was a court official who had charge of the daily operations of the court and the management of the household for a ruler.

[2]The Principality of Hohenzollern-Hechingen was one of a myriad of small semi-independent states in Germany during this time.  Germany was not united, and small principalities dotted the maps like a quilt.  Hohenzollern-Hechingen was located about fifty miles north of Switzerland and forty miles west of France in southern Germany.  It was approximately 400 square miles in size.  Baron von Steuben served as Chamberlain in this minor court from 1763 to 1771.

[3]Mecklenburg was a semi-autonomous state within the Kingdom of Prussia at this time and included the towns of Warnemunde and Rostock.  The province would have had its own system of local government including its own legal system. 

A Soldier of the King - Chapter Nineteen

A Soldier of the King may be purchased by following the link on the left column.

Chapter Nineteen:  The Trial

                   The judge called the room to order in the early afternoon of a warm day in late June.  Before him, on the defendant’s side was an impressive array of persons.  The defendant himself was a handsome young man standing at rigid attention in the uniform of Sergeant-Major of Regiment Number 5.  Beside him stood another young man, equally dignified in the robes of a barrister.

                   Behind these two stood an interesting collection of persons.  Beginning from the center aisle the judge saw a gentleman in the garb of a Lutheran pastor.  Next to him was a lady who was obviously his wife.

                   His glance traveling outward on the same row, the judge next noticed a young private in the uniform of Regiment Number 5 from Magdeburg.   The private also stood at rigid attention, but next to him with her arm intertwined in his was a beautiful young lady - his wife, the judge presumed - who appeared to be expecting a child at any moment.  Beside her stood an equally attractive, though slightly older, lady.  Both women were dressed in appropriate middle class fashions without any pretension.

                   Next to this lady and holding her hand stood a small, well-behaved  lad of about three.  mother and son, thought the judge.  Then looking at the next person the judge said to himself, This has to be his father, for there stood a mirror of the lad - only much older - in the uniform of a sergeant of Regiment Number 5.  The young boy looked up proudly at his father.

                   Next to the sergeant was an officer of Regiment Number 5, a short man with proud bearing.  Is that the commandant of the regiment?  thought the judge.  Yes, it is, Colonel Baron von Steuben!

                   The judge’s gaze traveled to the other side of the room where the prosecutor sat.  Behind him was only one person, a short oily man who appeared to have just come from the nearest tavern.

                   This ought to be an interesting case, thought the judge.  “Be seated,” he said.  “Clerk, read the charges against the defendant.”

                   A thin, gangly man with a large nose upon which rested a pair of thick spectacles rose and read with a nasal tone from a parchment:  “Hear ye, hear ye.  The defendant, Sergeant-Major Richard Schuler of Regiment Number 5 of the Army of the King of Prussia stands accused this day of the murder of Reinhold Reichman, formerly the Master-at-Arms of the merchant ship Anna-Maria, which took place in Rostock on the fifteenth day of March in the year of Our Lord seventeen hundred and fifty-eight.”

                   “Very, well.  How does the defendant plead?”

                   Emil rose.  “The defendant pleads not guilty.”

                   “Prosecutor, present your case.”

                   “Thank you, Your Honor,” intoned the prosecutor.  “I shall prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that this man, Richard Schuler, did willfully and with premeditation and violence strike down the victim, Reinhold Reichman, on that fateful day.  I call as my first and only witness, Herr Heinrich Mueller of the Rostock Boys Orphanage.”

                   The prosecutor then presented his case which consisted of the identification of the weapon which caused the death of Reichman and the identification of Richard as the person who wielded the weapon, both accomplished by Herr Mueller.  Emil was allowed the opportunity to cross-examine Mueller, whose story remained unshakeable.

                   When the prosecution rested its case in mid-afternoon after only one hour, the judge turned to Emil.  “And does the defense have an argument to present?”

                   “We do, Your Honor,” Emil said.  “I call Herr Henri Broussard to the witness stand.”

                   Henri testified in great detail about that fateful day.  He identified the knife as the murder weapon, but of course, told quite a different story than Mueller.  Henri disclosed the reason for the victim’s presence at the orphanage - to steal boys for his ship’s crew.

                   In cross examination the prosecutor admitted that the victim was a less than honorable person; however, he established that the knife was indeed Richard’s, that Henri and Richard were in the very room where the murder took place, that Henri himself had a reason to want Herr Reichman dead and to blame Herr Mueller, and that Richard had received a wound from the victim - the prominent scar on his cheek.  Henri also gave testimony to Richard’s aggressiveness in battle, which the prosecutor said was respectable among soldiers, but not among young orphans.

                   As the testimony concluded and the judge called a recess so he could make his decision; Emil and Richard went to a side room and were joined by the others - except for Henri, who  whispered something to Emil and slipped away unnoticed.

                   “It does not look good, Richard.  I have to be honest,” Emil said to the somber group.  “I have no evidence to contradict what Mueller said.  If the judge calls us back before dinner, I am afraid it  bodes ill for you.”

                   “We must pray,” said Johann and the group of friends bowed their heads and lifted their hearts to God.  “Lord,” said Johann.  “We need Your help.  Give us strength.  Give the judge wisdom and discernment.  Give us a miracle.  We ask that you bless our brother in Christ in his time of trial.  Let us in all things know You are with us and You love us.  Let us also know that in all things You are working for good for those who love you.  Your will be done.  Amen.”

                   The friends sat in the small room praying, talking, and singing hymns.  Eventually, though, there was a knock at the door of the little room.  Emil opened the door.  “The judge is ready with his decision,” whined the clerk.

                   Emil exhaled a heavy sigh.  “God help us.”

---

                   When the judge had entered the courtroom and everyone was seated there was silence.  “I have found several facts in this case.  First, a murder was committed.  Second, Richard Schuler had both weapon, motive, inclination, and capacity to murder Reinhold Reichman.  Third, Herr Mueller and Herr Reichman are both unsavory characters.  Fourth, the defense has offered no evidence to contradict the prosecution’s allegations against Sergeant-Major Richard Schuler.  I, therefore, have no choice but to find the defendant gui . . .”

                   Suddenly a loud noise shattered the silence and interrupted the judge.  The doors of the courtroom flew open.  “Am I too late?  I gotta tell my story!”  The courtroom guards struggled to subdue a man who was trying to break into the courtroom.

                   “What is the meaning of this?” thundered the judge.  “Bring that man forward at once.”

                   Two guards grabbed the shabby figure by either arm and began to escort him forward.  It quickly became evident that the man causing the disturbance wanted to go in the same direction as the guards and was dragging them with him.  Henri quietly slipped into the back of the courtroom.

                   “Yer High Worshipfulness, I gotta tell my story.”  The man who stood before the judge looked as if he had been mistreated for years.  He was extremely thin with cracked lips and bulging, frightened eyes.  His hair was long, stringy, and unkempt.  His clothes were worn and torn.  He stood bent and leaning to his left.

                   Mueller and Richard stood at the same time and shouted “Hans!”  There was obvious joy in Richard’s voice, but in Mueller’s eyes there was nothing but rage.  Emil looked back to see Henri, who winked.  “Hans!” continued Mueller.  “I warn you!  Don’t be a fool!”

                   “Silence!” barked the judge.  What is the meaning of this?  Who are you?”

                   “Just Hans, Yer Wonderful Lordship!  I work for dat pig, Mueller, at da orphanage.  I saw da whole thing.  T’weren’t da boys dat did it.  T’was ‘im, Yer Immense Greatness!”  Hans shoved a dirty finger in Mueller’s direction.   The words continued to spill out.  “He said he’d have me kilt if I talked or he’d blame me.  I won’t take it no more, though.  He did it.  He was sellin’ dem boys to the press gangs and he was cheatin’ Reichman.  Dose two boys were just in da wrong place.  Ya gotta believe me Yer Grand Hugeness.  Mueller is a bad man.  Da baddest.”

                   “Why should I believe you?” asked the judge.

                   “Because, Yer Black-Robed Excellency, its da truth.  Besides, why would I lie to Yer Bewigged Holiness.  I lose everything by tellin’ da truth.  My place ta sleep, my food - what of it dere is.”

                   “Why did you not give your testimony before?”

                   “Oh, Yer Overwhelming Largeness, he threatened me.  I admit it, I was afraid.  Den when da trial started he locked me up in what he calls da Guest Room.  If ‘tweren’t fer Henri, Yer Overbearing Goodness, I’d ‘av been in dere all day.  Henri, back dere, came and talked some sense inta me.  He said dat Mueller would git rid of me after da trial.  He couldn’t have me around.”

                   “Very well, my good man, I believe you.”  The judge struggled to surpress an amused grin.    “And guards, have this . . . ah . . . gentleman seated and keep him quiet before he calls me something else.”

                   “Your Honor, I must protest!” shouted the prosecutor.

                   “Yes, you must,” said the judge.  “And now you have, so be seated.  Sergeant-Major Schuler, I find you not guilty of the charge of murder.  Guards, arrest Herr Mueller for murder!”

                   “No!” screamed Mueller.  “You’re making a mistake.  I’m innocent.  Listen, judge I can pay.  I can pay, I tell you!”  Mueller continued to scream as the guards dragged him out of the room.

---

                   Everyone was in the mood for celebration.  Baron von Steuben had hired a dining room at a nearby inn, and the happy party moved there for dinner and celebration.  Prayers were said in thanks to God for Richard’s deliverance and everyone sat down to a lively meal.  The dinner lasted for more than an hour because of all the stories and remembrances that were told.  Hymns of rejoicing were sung, and even the baron joined in some of the Lutheran hymns which he recognized.

                   Hans was the guest of honor.  He barely paused in his eating to describe how Henri found him, locked in the infamous closet at the orphanage.

                   Finally, as the evening was concluding, Baron von Steuben stood to make a speech.  “Sergeant-Major Schuler, I have saved something to present to you on behalf of a grateful king, regiment, and commandant.  I have the honor to announce to you and this company that you are no longer sergeant-major of Regiment Number 5.”

                   Von Steuben grinned as he looked around the room at the shocked faces.  Richard began to protest, “But mein Kolonel, I . . .”

                   “Auch, do not interrupt, please.  As I was saying, you are no longer the regiment’s sergeant-major.  You are now commissioned a Stabskaptain[1] in the regiment and detached for duty as my aide.” 

                   The baron motioned to a servant who opened the doors of a bureau to reveal the uniform of an officer of Regiment Number 5.   Richard was overwhelmed.  The tricorn hat had metallic lace and silver buttons.  The coat, a more generous garment than that of the other ranks, had velvet facings and voluminous tails which were not buttoned back.  The lace on the Prussian blue coat was more intricate as was that of the shirt.  The waistcoat and breeches were the same buff color as the other ranks.  Highly polished black riding boots were on the floor of the bureau.  Finally, hanging with the uniform were three symbols of commissioned rank - a silver waist-sash with black interwoven lines, a silver and gilt crescent gorget, and a officer’s sword which was a straight-bladed epee to be carried on a waste belt.  The eight-foot officer’s pike stood in the corner of the room.

                   Richard stood speechless for a moment, but then began to protest.  “Mein Kolonel, I cannot be an officer in the Prussian Army.  I am from the middle class.  I am not of the nobility.”

                   “Auch.  That is true,” said the baron.  “There must be some way to solve that problem.  Let me see.  I know!  We will have you made a baronet![2]  As a matter of fact, the King has already done so.  Old Fritz was more than pleased to allow me to purchase your nobility for you.  He promoted you on his own!  Congratulations Stabskaptain Baronet Richard von Schuler!”

---

                   After congratulations were given and the party concluded, Richard pulled Emil to the side.  “Emil, my friend, thank you.”

                   “Thank you, sir,” Emil responded appropriately.

                   “Come on, Emil, we were friends as boys.  Don’t use “sir” with me.  To you I shall always be Richard, your indebted servant.”

                   “Well, Richard, you really should not thank me.  We were defeated.  The only thing that saved us was old Hans, and Henri thought of him.  In all of the excitement, nobody else thought of Hans.  Henri said that when he did not see Hans in court he thought Mueller might have done something with him.  Henri knew of only one place where Mueller would hide anyone - the Guest Room, he called it.”  Emil motioned at the strange man still at the table eating.  “What will become of him?”

                   “I understand that Henri and Maria will be taking him back to Herrnhut with them.  He will be cared for.  Now listen, Emil, I need you to be my attorney at least one more time.”  Richard pulled Emil into the corner and began whispering as Emil nodded.

---

[1]Literally “Staff Captain.”  A senior or first lieutenant with administrative duties.

[2]A baronet is a member of the lesser nobility (the lowest ranking noble) and addressed as “sir.”  Many European monarchs followed the practice of King James I of England in selling such titles as a way to raise money.  King Frederick the Great, faced with the overwhelming cost of the Seven Years War without a doubt used such methods for raising much needed funds. When “commoners” were thus elevated to the nobility, they inserted “von” before their family name. 

A Soldier of the King - Chapter Eighteen

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Chapter Eighteen:  In Jail

June 1763

                   It had been a month since his arrest.  Richard had written to his friends at Herrnhut.  Johann and Hilda Wagner had arrived with their child, Richard Henri.  Henri and Maria Broussard had come with them, though the trip was difficult for Maria.  She was expecting their first child.  It would have been a happy family reunion, except that it was in the Rostock town jail.

                   The jailer at Rostock was an old soldier who took a liking to Richard immediately.  The two of them talked of being soldiers and battles in which they had fought.  These conversations not only passed the time for Richard, but earned him a private cell with better food and cleaner conditions.  Richard, of course, was embarrassed to receive his friends while he was in jail, but at least he had some privacy when they came and it was clean enough so that he did not feel too ill at ease when the women and the child came to see him.

                   Hilda and Maria were helpful in seeing that Richard’s clothes were clean and he had plenty to eat.  They even brought the jailer some extra food, which allowed them daily access to their friend.  Richard wanted to keep his uniform in good condition for his impending trial, so the ladies made certain that he had other clothes to wear while he was in his cell.

                   Johann, Hilda, Henri, and Maria tried to keep Richard occupied and hopeful.  Richard Henri, now a toddler, was helpful in taking Richard’s mind off of his troubles.  Still there were times when Richard would become depressed.  He wondered what he had done wrong, or what God was trying to do to him.  Conversations during these visits would center around discussing every aspect of Richard’s case - trying to find some way to refute the charges and convince Richard to get a lawyer to fight for him in his trial - and trying to discern God’s role in all that was happening.  Richard could not see any hope or reason for getting a lawyer.

                   One day Johann suggested that Richard write to Baron von Steuben and to Pastor Schmidt in Warnemunde.   Richard was reluctant to correspond with the Baron, but agreed to let Johann compose a letter telling their officer of the situation.

                   Richard had not thought of the Schmidts in a long time, and he quickly wrote a lengthy letter to Pastor and Frau Schmidt, telling them of his experiences since he last saw them over five years ago.  Henri was dispatched to Warnemunde with this letter, and soon Pastor and Frau Schmidt and their son, Emil, had a tearful reunion in Richard’s cell and Richard’s new friends and old friends united to help him.

                   “Oh Richard, will you ever forgive us?” wept Frau Schmidt.  “We felt something was wrong about that man Mueller, but we did not know what to do, Emil being ill.  Everything happened too fast.  After a few weeks we went to get you back, but that man said you had run away.  We are so sorry, Richard.”

                   “I cannot blame you,” Richard said.  “You did what you could at the time.”

                   “Richard,” said Pastor Schmidt, “We have kept you in our prayers always.  And we have taken care of your property in Warnemunde.  Your family was not wealthy, but your father made a good living and saved much of his money.  When you get out of here you will have some fine assets.”

                   “Pastor,” sighed Richard, “I do not believe I will get out of here . . . at least alive.  God has abandoned me.”

                   “Not so, Richard!” protested the pastor.  “God abandons no man.”

                   “How can you say that, pastor?  What proof can you offer that God has not abandoned me?”

                   “Well,” responded the pastor, “Let me think . . . that is, I believe God . . .”

                   “Pastor Schmidt,” interrupted Hilda, “May I say something?”

                   “Please do my  dear,” said Schmidt with some relief.

                   “Richard,” Hilda continued, “Do you know you sound like Jesus right now?”

                   “What?” said Richard in surprise.

                   “That is right.  When Jesus knew He was going to be arrested, and taken to trial, and executed even though He was innocent, He asked His friends to stay with Him through the night.  Do you know what they did?  His best friends fell asleep and later they ran away and denied Him.  Then when Jesus was dying on the cross He thought that God had abandoned Him.  Do you remember what He said?”

                   “I think I do,’ said Richard.

                   “Jesus cried out, ‘My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?’[1]  Jesus was actually quoting scripture while He was dying.  He was remembering Psalm 22.”  She quickly turned to the scripture in her Bible. It begins with these words:

‘My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?

Why art Thou so far from helping me, and from the words of my roaring?

Oh, my God, I cry in the daytime,

But Thou hearest me not;

And in the night season,

And am not silent.’”[2]

                   “That sure sounds like me,” said Richard.  “But is that it?  Jesus felt abandoned like I do and that is all there is to it?”

                   “No,” said Hilda, “I believe Jesus was thinking of the ending to the psalm:

Ye that fear the Lord, praise Him;

All ye the seed of Jacob, glorify Him;

And fear Him, all ye the seed of Israel.

For He hath not despised the affliction of the afflicted;

Neither hath He hid His face from him;

But when he cried unto Him, He heard.”[3]

                   “So, Jesus knows how I feel?” Richard asked. 

                   “That’s right,” said Hilda, “Not only that, but I believe God through Jesus knows how you feel because Jesus is God with us.”

                   There was silence as Richard thought.  Then he said, “You know, that Psalm sounds a lot like the scripture that Count von Zinsendorf read when you became a Christian, Johann.  I’ve never forgotten it.”

                   “Neither have I,” said Johann.  He closed his eyes and recited:

For we must needs die, and are as water spilt on the ground, which cannot be gathered up again; neither doth God respect any person: Yet doth He devise a means, that His banished may not be expelled from Him.[4]

                   Henri added hopefully, “Richard, do you see that God has been devising a means for you not to be expelled, to return to Him.”

                   “What has God been doing for me?” snapped Richard.  “What has God devised for me?”

                   “Look around you, Richard.” said Maria quietly.  “What do you see?”

                   “I see a prison cell.”

                   “But who is here with you, Richard?” she asked.

                   “You all are,” Richard whispered, then his eyes grew wide.  He jumped up and shouted, “You all are!  God is devising the means and you all are the means!”

                   “That’s right!” exclaimed Johann as the truth dawned on him.  “God has been loving you all along through us!  God’s love has come through us!  Praise God!”  Everyone began to jump and shout with excitement, including Richard. 

                   “Wait a moment!” called Pastor Schmidt who alone had remained seated.  Tears were forming in his eyes.  “There are some others who are present as well.  Richard, do you remember your family’s Bible you left behind with us?”

                   “Yes, Pastor, I do.”

                   “Well, young man, I have had five years to go through your family’s Bible.  About a year ago I found something.  It was a brief note from your father marking a specific verse.”  Pastor Schmidt opened the Bible.  “May I read the note now?”

                   “Yes, sir, please.”

                   Everyone grew silent as the pastor read through his teary eyes.

Dear Richard, my son,

            While I still have the strength I am writing this note to remind you of the love of God.  I have grieved over the death of your mother, my beloved wife, and your brother, my first son.  Now I fear I will leave you soon.  I do not fear dying itself, but I ache for you my son.  You will remain behind.

            Do not worry about your mother, your brother, or me.  Our faith will sustain us.  When you read this letter we will be with God.  Some day in God’s time you shall join us.

            Your faith is so young.  Do not be angry with God.  God does not seek our suffering, indeed God in His love devises means for us to stay close to Him in eternal and abundant life.

            I have circled a verse on this page which has given me great comfort during these times.  I trust you will read it often.

            God be with you and through His Spirit may we remain with you as well.

Your loving Father

                   “Thank you, sir,” Richard said in a husky voice.  “Can you tell me, what verse did my father circle?”

                   Pastor Schmidt cleared his throat, “The verse is from the Second Book of Samuel, Chapter 14, verse 14.”

                   All were silent for a moment, then Richard said, “But that verse is . . .”  He could not finish.

                   “It is Johann’s verse,” concluded Pastor Schmidt.  “The verse which you have never forgotten.  Do you see how God has been with you, devising a means, through us and through your family?  God loves you, Richard.  Surely you know that now.”

                   “Yes, I do know God loves me.  What do I do now?”

                   Hilda confidently spoke, “You speak to God.”

                   “Will you help me, Hilda?  Will you all help me?”

                   “Certainly we will,” she said.  “Lord, Richard has thought for a long time that You were against him and that You were far from him.  Enter his heart now through your Holy Spirit and assure him of Your love.  Forgive his sins through faith in Jesus Christ.  Let him . . . let us all . . . know that you God are always near to us.  Amen.”

                   Johann began to sing a hymn while the others joined in:

“Out of the depths I cry to You; O Father, hear me calling.

Incline Your ear to my distress in spite of my rebelling.

Do not regard my sinful deeds.

Send me the grace my spirit needs;

Without it I am nothing.

My soul is waiting for the Lord as one who longs for morning;

No watcher waits with greater hope than I for His returning.

I hope as Israel in the Lord;

He sends redemption through His Word.

We praise Him for His mercy.”[5]

                   The group heard a soft “ha . . . h’m” behind them. In unison they turned to see none other than Baron von Steuben himself.  Richard, Johann, and Henri snapped to attention while the others either bowed or curtsied.

                   The baron bowed, “Well, now.  Let’s get to work.  Does anyone now a good lawyer?”

                   “Excuse me, sir,” said Emil Schmidt, speaking for the first time.  “But I happen to be a very good lawyer.”

---

[1]Mark 15.34b (KJV).  The NIV reads, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

[2]Psalm 22.1-2 KJV.  The NIV reads “My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?  Why are You so far from saving me, so far from the words of my groaning?  Oh, my God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer, by night, and I am not silent.”

[3]Psalm 22.23-24 KJV.  The NIV reads “You who fear the Lord, praise Him!  All you descendants of Jacob, honor Him!  Revere Him, all you descendants of Israel!  For He has not despised or disdained the suffering of the afflicted one; He has not hidden His face from him but has listened to his cry for help.”

[4]2 Samuel 14.14 KJV.  See the footnote in Chapter Ten for the NIV rendering.

[5]By Martin Luther (1523) as printed in the Moravian Book of Worship, No. 761, vv 1, 4.

A Soldier of the King - Chapter Seventeen

A Soldier of the King is available for purchase through the link on the left column.

Chapter Seventeen:  Searching for Peace

1763

                   Richard and Baron von Steuben were talking in the Baron’s office at the regimental barracks in Magdeburg.  Regiment Number 5 had returned to garrison after the battle of Burkersdorf.  The war had ended with a treaty signed in Hubertusburg in February.  The Kingdom was at peace.

                   “Well, Sergeant-Major Schuler,” sighed the Baron as he slouched in the chair behind his desk, “What shall two warriors like us do with our time now?  No more battles to fight - until the next war.”

                   “Mein Kolonel,” said Richard as he sat stiffly before von Steuben.  “I request some leave.  I have some . . . ah . . . personal matters to address.”

                   “May I ask, as a friend, of course, just what your personal matters are?”

                   “That is difficult to explain, sir.  Before I returned to the regiment this last time, Sergeant Wagner and I had a long discussion about God.  I wish to find peace with God, sir.”

                   “It appears that peace is breaking out all over,” joked von Steuben.  “But cannot peace with God be found here?”

                   “I suppose it can, sir,” replied Richard thoughtfully.  “But Johann - Sergeant Wagner, that is - told me that when he is looking for something he goes back to where he last had it.  I am looking for peace with God, so I must return, with the Baron’s permission, to where I last had peace with God.”

                   “Where is that, Sergeant-Major?”

                   “In Rostock, Herr Kolonel.”

---

                   Once Richard had permission to take leave from the regiment, he immediately left for Rostock.  As he traveled north from Magdeburg memories began to flood in upon him.  He remembered the time he and Henri spent together on the run and in the army and how they were “enlisted” by Johann.  He remembered the warmth of Hilda and Johann’s homes in Magdeburg and now in Herrnhut.  He remembered Count von Zinsendorf and his sermon at which Johann became a Christian.  He also remembered the harshness of the orphanage and Herr Mueller.  With the thought of Mueller, Richard’s heart began to race.  The scar on his cheek burned and he thought of the night when he received the scar.  As the anger rose in him Richard began to think about his mother and father and brother.  Maybe I should not return.  Maybe there will never be peace for me.

                   Still, Richard kept moving forward.  As he entered the town of Rostock it was mid-afternoon.  He found an inn and hired a room for the week.

                   The room was on the third floor and was spacious enough.  There was a double bed, a wash stand, two chairs, and a chest.  A mirror hung from one wall.

                   Richard stood in front of the mirror.  He was eighteen now.  His uniform fit him perfectly and identified him as Sergeant-Major of Regiment Number 5 of the Prussian Army.

                   Richard studied himself.  He was thirteen when he had last seen Rostock.  No one would recognize him now, he thought.  Richard was a man, now - tall and strong with piercing eyes and an intelligent and  commanding countenance.  Everything about him suggested strength, confidence, and power.

                   Richard inhaled and drew himself taller.  He stared into his own eyes.  Then as he exhaled, he appeared to deflate.  Here I am.  What am I to do now?  God, if you are here and we are to be at peace, show me what to do next.

                   His stomach growled.  That’s it?  The next thing to do is to eat?  Well, I haven’t had anything since breakfast!

---

                   As Richard tromped down the two flights of stairs, he heard a loud, familiar baritone laugh.  “I just received a new donation!  Ha! Woman, bring me your best meal and plenty of beer!”

                   Richard faltered for a moment and then slowly continued down the steps into the main room of the inn.  At the foot of the stairway he glanced around the dark room.  Sitting at a large table by the fire was a short, round man with a plump face.  His head was hairless except for bushy eyebrows and an enormous mustache which hid his mouth.  The man’s eyes appeared as slits in his puffy face, which Richard could see was colorless even in the subdued light of the tavern.  The exception was the large red nose in the center of the face.

                   The man’s clothes were uncomfortably tight.  He attempted to look fashionable and wealthy, but the stained and worn clothing showed that he pretended to a status which he could not afford.

                   Could it be?  No, impossible!  thought Richard.

                   “Ah, good soldier!  Come here.  Home from the wars, eh?  Welcome, dine with me.  It will be my pleasure,” called the man to him.  All eyes in the tavern turned toward Richard.  As if in a daze Richard slowly moved toward the man.

                   God, help me!  Herr Mueller!  Richard’s mind screamed.

---

                   “Here you go now, soldier; or is it Sergeant?  Yes, it is Sergeant.  Welcome to my table.  I am Heinrich Mueller, at your service.  What would you have?” asked Mueller, then yelling to the servant, “Woman, another setting and another pint for my guest, and hurry.”

                   Then turning to Richard, Mueller said, “And what is your name, Sergeant?  Where is your home?”

                   “I am from Magdeburg,  sir,” replied Richard as he gained his composure.  “And my name . . . my name is . . . just call me Sergeant, sir.”

                   “Very well, Sergeant!  Ah here is our meal now!  Come let us enjoy.”

                   The two men conversed as they ate.  As the meal progressed, Richard became more and more certain that Mueller did not recognize him.  At least it appeared so.  The conversation was mostly about the war and Richard’s experiences.  Mueller told Richard that he ran the Rostock Boys Orphanage.  “I guess you could say I am also a “crew supplier” for the captains of our sailing ships.  If someone needs a sailor they come to me and I sort of supply a healthy young man.  By the way Sergeant, if you ever have need of some recruits, just let me know!  Ha!”  The scar on Richard’s face grew red.

                   “Well, Sergeant,” Mueller said abruptly, “I must be going.  Please have a pleasant stay in our little town.  I hope I have been of some service.  Now I bid you good-bye.”

                   With some effort, Mueller raised himself from the table and walked toward the door of the inn.  Before he left, though, he spoke briefly with the woman who had served them and slipped her a couple of coins.  Looking over his shoulder, he pasted a broad smile on his face, and went into the bustling street.

                   The woman came over to Richard and sat beside him.  “Well, soldier,” she whispered to him as she drew his ear toward her mouth, “Your friend said that I was to make certain you enjoyed your stay here.  Is there anything you would like now?”

                   “Ah . . . no, thank you,” stammered Richard.  He was relieved that Mueller had apparently not recognized him, but he was nervous about this new predicament.  “Ah . . . that is, I would like something more to . . . ah . . . drink, if you please.”

                   “Sure, sweety,” said the barmaid, “You just wait right here and I’ll be back and keep you company.”

                   “Oh, that will not be necessary, thank you.”

                   “No need to thank me,” she said.  “You just wait right there.”

                   The woman returned and placed the drink before Richard.  Again she sat down and drew herself close to him, holding on to his free arm.  Richard sat drinking and staring straight ahead.            Suddenly the door flew open and four uniformed police entered the inn followed by Herr Mueller.  The barmaid quickly slid away from Richard.

                   “There he is!”  shouted Mueller.  “The one with the scar!  There is the murderer!  I’d recognize him anywhere -  Richard Schuler!  You thought I would forget, didn’t you, Schuler?”

                   “Sergeant,” said one of the policemen.  “You are under arrest.  You will come with us immediately.”

A Soldier of the King - Chapter Sixteen

The book, A Soldier of the King, may be purchased by following the link on the left column.

Chapter Sixteen:  Burkersdorf - The Final Battle

July 1762

                   Not soon after his conversation with Johann, Richard turned seventeen.  Through the days that followed Richard was very quiet, walking alone in the fields and woods surrounding Herrnhut.  On Sundays he would go to the community’s worship and occasionally he would attend the Bible studies and other fellowships.  Johann and Hilda could see that the young man was in a deep spiritual struggle.  It was hard for him to let go of the anger and bitterness that he felt.  It was as if Richard needed someone to blame for his own suffering and the suffering he found around him - if not God then who?

                   Henri continued to improve, and as he got stronger his relationship with Maria became closer.  Soon they were planning for their wedding.

                   Henri and Maria were married in early March on the same bend in the road where their eyes first met.  The weather was perfect for that time of year.  The sun was shining and the early spring flowers were just beginning to bloom.  The entire community gathered around the couple as they professed their love for Christ and one another.  Prayers were said by leaders of the community, including Johann, who had to shorten his prayer because of the emotion that he felt.

                   Richard stood beside Henri during the ceremony.  Hilda admired the two young men with different strengths.

                   Richard was so tall and broad-shouldered - a physically imposing young man with a sharp mind and the ability to lead.  He reminded her of her own husband, and indeed Richard was like Johann when he was younger.  Many of the young ladies of Herrnhut flirted openly with Richard and did all sorts of things to get his attention; but his mind was elsewhere.

                   Henri’s strength was spiritual.  He was much shorter and smaller than Richard, but his faith was unshakable.  Henri could see and understand things that other people could not.  His eyes expressed joy and love readily.  His heart reached out to persons in pain.  He understood weakness because he knew that he was weak.

                   Maria had encouraged Henri to work on his art during his recuperation.  Henri would draw and paint for hours as Maria watched.  His work was beginning to gain attention outside of Hernnhut for its depth of expression and insight.

                   That evening, at the end of the ceremony and festivities, Richard wished the couple all the happiness in the world.  Henri and Maria prayed for Richard that he would find peace with God.

                   They watched as Richard thanked them and turned and walked away.  The next morning Richard was gone.

---

                   Hilda was the first to arise that morning as she prepared breakfast.  She saw a note on the table in the kitchen.

My friends,

            How can I ever say goodbye to you? You will see me again soon, and I will write often.  I have found myself happy with you at Herrnhut, but I need to find my peace with God and fulfill my duty to the regiment.  Please keep me in your prayers.  I feel I am not too far from God.

Your Friend,

Richard

---

                   It did not take long for Richard to return to Magdeburg and the regimental barracks.  He returned in his old campaign uniform but was quickly outfitted in the brand new uniform of a Korporal.  He immediately reported to the new regimental Kommandant.[1]

                   When Richard was escorted into the office of the commandant, he was surprised to see Baron von Steuben sitting behind the commandant’s desk.  Richard’s face did not reflect his surprise or pleasure!

                   Richard snapped to attention, “Herr Kommandant, Korporal Schuler reporting for duty.”       The Baron rose and walked around the desk reaching for Richard’s hand.  “Korporal Schuler, welcome back.  It is good to see you again.  Mein Gott!” exclaimed von Steuben looking up at the young man towering over him.  Richard by now was six feet two inches and weighed 185 pounds.  “You have grown into a man!  Auch!  I will need you to help me get the regiment back in order.  Are you ready for the task?”

                   “Yes, sir!” responded Richard, a little surprised but honored.

                   “There is more, Schuler,” the Baron added.  “We are in a hurry to rebuild the regiment.  I need someone who has seen battle, a seasoned veteran with energy and intelligence.  Many of our new soldiers will not be of the same quality as a few years ago.  The wars have taken their toll.  I want you to be the regimental Feldwebel.[2]  You will report directly to me.  I am designing an accelerated training schedule.  You will take every group of new recruits and train them in the basics, then turn them over to the other sergeants.  I have every confidence in you.”

                   Richard did not know what to say.  This promotion was sudden and unexpected, but to contradict the Baron would be inappropriate and show a lack of confidence.  Schuler quickly responded, “Herr Kommandant, I am proud to serve in any way you wish.”

                   “I know we will work together well.  Just like I did with Sergeant Wagner.  How is my old friend and his wife?  And your friend, too, what’s his name - Private Broussard?”

                   Richard took a moment to tell the Baron about Johann and Hilda and their baby and Henri’s marriage to Maria.  He told him a little about the religious life at Herrnhut.  He explained that Henri’s wounds would make it impossible for him to rejoin the regiment.

                   “To bad!” said von Steuben.  “Probably for the best, though.  As a soldier he was good, but no where near your ability.  He is probably where he should be.  And Sergeant Wagner is a father and a preacher!  What a surprise, though I am sure he will do well at both.  Come, Sergeant-Major Schuler, let’s not waste a moment!”

                   Together the two men walked out of the office and on to the parade ground.

---

                   The next weeks to the end of May were a blur of activity for Richard.  He drilled the new recruits in Baron von Steuben’s new system and indoctrinated them into the regiment.  Richard was a hard drill master, but not harsh.  He knew that perfection on the parade ground would save lives on the battlefield.  Quickly the regiment took shape.

                   Richard had little time to himself.  His long days were filled with drilling the new soldiers and discussing plans with von Steuben.  Richard grew to respect and admire the Baron, though he felt that they could never be friends because of their different social and military ranks.  Still, there were times when von Steuben treated Richard as a friend would, that is until von Steuben caught himself.  It appeared to Richard that the Baron wanted to be his friend, but could not let himself.

                   During the brief moments Richard had to himself, he would either write his friends at Herrnhut or think about his past and God.  He was aware that his anger and bitterness were slowly receding and his understanding of God was changing.  Still, he realized that he was far from the kind of relationship with God that his friends had.

---

                   Finally, the regiment was ready for battle, and none too soon.  They marched out of the barracks in June 1762.

                   Much had changed in the world situation since the last battle Richard had fought.  Empress Elizabeth of Russia had died and was succeeded by Emperor Peter III, an admirer of King Frederick.  Russia, thereupon switched sides in the war and became an ally of Prussia.  Sweden, as a consequence, sought a separate peace with Prussia.  This dramatic change now allowed Frederick to focus his full attention on Austria with the assistance of his new allies, the Russians.

                   Nothing of great drama needs to be told of the Battle of Burkersdorf.  With the Russian contingent occupying the attention of a portion of the Austrian Army, Frederick met the main body of the Austrians on the heights above Burkersdorf on July 17, 1762.  It has been said that King Frederick’s plan was beautifully conceived and executed.  The Prussians routed the Austrians with minimal losses.  Richard and the rest of the regiment returned home victorious.   The final battle of the Seven Years War took place on October 29, 1762, while Regiment Number 5 was in garrison back in Magdeburg.  Peace had come at last.

---

[1]The commandant (Kommandant) of a regiment was nominally the second-in-command to the colonel-in-chief (Chef), but in effect the commandant commanded the regiment, seeing to the daily operations and administration of the regiment, on behalf of the Chef. The Chef received the stipend for the regiment from the king, was responsible to the king for the regiment, and paid the expenses of the regiment.  The commandant’s rank was usually Kolonel (Colonel).

[2]Sergeant-Major, the senior enlisted man in the regiment.

A Soldier of the King - Chapter Fifteen

This posting is from the book, A Soldier of the King.  It is available for purchase through the link in the left column.

Chapter Fifteen:  The Witness

November  1760

                   “Johann, I am so tired,” sighed Richard as he sat beside his friend on the porch of the small cottage.  Richard’s sigh seemed to come from deep inside his soul and made him sound much older than his sixteen years.  He had seen much hardship and suffering in less than three years since his family had died and he had left his home.

                   Johann said nothing as he leaned back in his chair on the porch.  He looked at Richard a long time, took a long draw on his pipe, and exhaled, creating a large cloud of smoke and vapor in the crisp November air.  In less than an hour it would be dusk.

                   Richard spoke to Johann, but more to himself, “I am so changed, so far from what my parents wanted me to be.  I am so far from God.  I remember that God was such a part of my family.  Now I have hated God so much that I have lost him.  I have seen so many terrible things in this world that I am not certain I want to find God again - at least a God that either causes all this suffering or lets it happen.  An evil God or a weak God!  Some choice!  Maybe no God is better!

                   “When I was younger, God was easier to understand and like.  It was so simple then.  It has all changed.  God has changed.  The world has changed.”

                   “Could it be,” Johann said, “That it is you who have changed?  You are becoming a man.  You have seen more of the world and more of suffering.  Maybe, Richard, you are growing up and it is time for your understanding of God to grow up, too.”

                   “Was I wrong about God when I was a child?  Did my parents hide the real God from me?”

                   “No, Richard.  Your parents taught you about God as you could understand as a child, and God came to you as you were and as you needed as a child.  When we are children we love the stories of baby Jesus and how Jesus grew up with Joseph and Mary.  We think of God like a big parent - taking care of everything, protecting us from all harm, making us happy and safe.  That is not wrong.  God is our loving Father.  God does provide for us.  God wants what is best for us.  But as we grow older we move beyond the stories of baby Jesus and see the cross and the suffering of Jesus - his betrayal, his trial, his death.  We see, if we move beyond the faith of childhood, that in Jesus God suffers.  Indeed it is in our own suffering where we find God the most loving and powerful.”

                   Johann stopped speaking.  He could see Richard was on the verge of a great change in his life.

                   “Johann,” Richard whispered to cover the emotion in his voice.  “How can I find God again?”

                   “I don’t know,” said Johann.

                   “What?”  blurted Richard.  "I thought you have found God!”

                   “That’s right.  I have, but I cannot tell you how to find God.  All I can tell you is how I found God.”

                   “Tell me, Johann.”

                   “Well, I guess you could say I had to lose my leg to find God.  Richard, you remember the place in the Bible where Jesus says, ‘And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee:  for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell.  And if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee:  for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell.’[1]

                   “Now in a way, it was better for me to lose my leg than to go to hell!”

                   Richard looked at Johann and said, “But Jesus says that you should cut off what is making you sin.  How was your leg making you sin?”

                   Johann laughed, “That’s a good question, Richard.  It’s not that my leg was particularly sinful, but my being physically whole and strong was keeping me from knowing God.

                   “You see, when you first met me, I was strong and active and in command of life - or so I thought.  People looked up to me because of my physical appearance.  No one was a better soldier.  I was never wounded in battle.  I felt that nothing could stop me.

                   “I was a good husband to Hilda.  We had a nice little house and a decent income from the army.  But I gave myself all of the credit.  I did not need God because I was the best.

                   “But then I lost my leg and everything disappeared.  I could no longer be a soldier.  I thought I could no longer be a good husband.  I needed you and Henri and Hilda to take care of me.  I was helpless and dependent.  I could control nothing.  I felt my life was over.

                   “When I was at my lowest point I took a long look at Hilda.  She could have left me.  I would not have blamed her.  But she loved me even more.  We actually became closer.  And I took a long look at God.  The count’s sermon helped.  I realized God wanted me and loved me even more when I was at my worst and least and lowest - or so I thought I was.  God did not love me bcause of my humiliation, but in the midst of my humiliation.”

                   “Are you saying that you are glad you lost your leg?”

                   “Well, I never thought of it like that, but yes.  If I had not lost my leg, I would not have come to find God - to love Him and know Him.  Losing my leg was the best thing that happened to me!  Would I like to have my leg back?  Sure!  But it is an easy trade for me to make to know God’s love for me.  What does the Bible say?  ‘And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.’[2]  Losing my leg was not good for anyone, but God made something better - even the best - come from it.”

                   “Johann, where can I find peace with God?”  Richard asked almost begging.

                   “You find peace with God with God,” answered Johann. “I mean that when you find  God you will find real peace.”

                   “Where do I find God, then?”

                   “Well, Richard,” Johann responded after some thought.  “Whenever I have lost anything and want to find it I go back to where I last remember having it.”

            “To find God again I go back to where I last had God?  Hmmm,” thought Richard. 

---

[1]Matthew 5.29-30 (KJV).  The NIV reads:  “If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away.  It is better  for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell.  And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away.  It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to go into hell.” 

[2]Romans 8.28 (KJV).  The NIV reads:  We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.

A Soldier of the King - Chapter Fourteen

A Soldier of the King is available for purchase through the link on the left column.

Chapter Fourteen:  Homecoming

                   Regiment Number 5 had died, not in bits and pieces, not slowly, not soldier-by-soldier.  The regiment had ceased to exist in the span of fifteen minutes.  Most of its soldiers lay spread on the green turf before the smoking Austrian guns on the plain south of Nieden.  Those who were dead lay still - some as if they were asleep, others in some hideously comical poses.  The wounded either lay as death approached or twitched and moaned in agony.  Some, who were able to move were attempting to reach their comrades and give whatever aid they could.  None retreated.

                   The King had watched his brave soldiers.  Where was Ziethen’s corps?  Where was the other attack?  Frederick signaled for the second line to move forward.  They marched onto the field immediately.

                   Again the second wave of infantry was destroyed by the Austrian fire.  Private and general alike suffered tremendously from the enemy’s cannon.

                   Frederick sent forward a third line of his infantry, this time joined by the cavalry which had just completed its wide sweep.  These regiments began their move toward the enemy expecting at any moment to receive the punishment that the two previous attacks had absorbed.

                   They waited for the guns to erupt to come as they approached the Austrian lines.  A few isolated artillery pieces fired and then went silent.  The Austrians were out of ammunition!  With renewed hope and shouts of elation and revenge. The Prussian infantry and cavalry plunged into the Austrian lines.

                   Less than two hundred meters from where the Austrians and Prussians were now engaged, lay Richard and Henri.  Richard began to stir.  Someone was trying to take the regiment’s colors which he still grasped in both hands.  It was Major Johann Sigismund von Lestwitz, an old veteran and commander of the second battalion of Regiment Number 5.  The major saw Richard’s eyes flutter and open.

                   “Give me the colors, lad, or get up and carry them yourself.  Either way, this regiment is moving forward!”

                   “I’m coming, sir.”  Richard said weakly, but with determination.

                   “That’s a good soldier,” said the major.  “Stand up and rally the men!”

                   With great effort, Richard, stood.  His left leg ached, but he saw it had been quickly bandaged and the bleeding had stopped.

                   He began to wave the colors.  Major von Lestwitz began to call, “Alt Braunshweig Regiment!  Rally on me!”

                   Richard looked for Henri.  Henri lay where he had fallen.  Now on the ground beside him was Major von Steuben.  Von Steuben was tending to Henri’s wounds.  Shrapnel wounds decorated both of von Steuben’s legs.

                   “Major von Steuben!” gasped Richard in surprise.

                   “There, there Freikorporal Schuler.  Not to worry,” said von Steuben calmly.  “I’ll be fine.  I just can’t walk now.   I’ll take care of Private Broussard.  You continue with your duties.  Rally the regiment.”

                   “Yes, sir!”  Richard raised the standard higher.

                   Soon a good number of wounded soldiers mostly from Regiment Number 5 had come to Richard and Major von Lestwitz.  At his command they formed two lines and moved forward.  Richard marched behind the major with the banner.  As they moved toward the battle more soldiers, the ones who could walk and shoulder a weapon joined them.  They numbered almost one thousand.

                   Frederick wasted no time and put this provisional unit into battle immediately.  They seized a dominant hill near Suptitz overlooking the Austrians.  The Prussian artillery with the King’s corps was sent to the hill and for the rest of the battle Richard’s mixed unit defended the Prussian guns as they fired into the Austrian flank.    

                   Darkness came.  The Prussians swept through the Austrians who had tried to counter with their own cavalry but failed.  The Austrian regiments began to falter.

                   Finally, in darkness Ziethen attacked with the other Prussian corps.  With the beat of drums they signaled their approach.  The Austrians were trapped in the pincers and they quickly collapsed.

                   As night settled and the battle died away, Major von Lestwitz saw to the disposition of his mixed regiment.  He called Richard to him.

                   “Freikorporal Schuler, we are short on non-commissioned officers.  I hereby appoint you  Korporal.  Select someone to tend to the Regiment’s standard and then report to me.”

                   Richard quickly found a private to care for the colors, and then returned to the major.  As he approached he found von Lestwitz standing in the light of a campfire talking to none other than the King himself.

                   Old Fritz looked tired.  Richard heard him say to von Lestwitz, “It was a hard battle, major.  A victory, but too costly.  You did well, very well.”

                   “Sir,” said von Lestwitz who had noticed Richard, “I am very short of non-commissioned officers.  I took the liberty of appointing this young man a Korporal.  Schuler, come here.”

                   Richard limped forward and stood before his king.  “You are young, very young,” said the King.  “But you all are very young.  How old are you, Schuler?”

                   “Your Highness, I am almost sixteen!”

                   “Almost sixteen.  How many battles?

                   “Your Highness, this was my third battle.”

                   “Schuler is it?  Yes, I remember you.  You serve with von Steuben, am I right?

                   “Yes, your Highness.”

                   “Two of my best officers, von Lestwitz and von Steuben have great confidence in you, Korporal.  You are promoted.  Tend to your duties.”

                   “Yes, your Highness.”

                   Richard turned and limped away.  A battlefield promotion!  From the King himself!  I’ve got to tell . . . .   Henri!  Where is Henri?

---

                   Torgau was King Frederick’s last major battle.  His own dwindling resources and his enemies’ growing strength forced him to change from attrition warfare to position warfare.

                   After Torgau Old Fritz became more cautious, less bold.  The losses were taking there toll on the King and his soldiers.  Still, the war continued.

---

                   Richard stumbled through the darkness trying to find where he had last seen Henri and Baron von Steuben.  The ground was unfamiliar and cluttered with the remnants of the battle - the dead and wounded, damaged or discarded equipment.

                   Richard’s wound, though bandaged, was giving him trouble and pain.  It would have been difficult for him to walk any great distance on level ground, and the uneven and unpredictable turf slowed his progress even more.  All around him, in the haunting shadows created by the moonlight, Richard could see the suffering of the battle.  He heard groans.  Now and then what he assumed was a lifeless body would stir or make a sound.  Many times he was tempted to turn around and find the security of the campfire.  His imagination magnified his growing fear, but he had to find Henri.

                   It seemed to take forever, but Richard finally arrived where he thought he last saw Henri and von Steuben.  “Henri?” he whispered as if he would disturb those lying on the ground.  “Henri?”

                   “Schuler?  Is that you?”  came a familiar voice.  It was Major von Steuben.

                   “Yes, sir!”  Richard responded.  He searched the darkness.   “Where are you, Major?  Is Private Broussard . . . is he still . . . is he with you?”

                   “Yes, Freikorporal Schuler, your friend is alive, though just barely.  I am afraid that I cannot move because of my wounds.  Take your friend and then come back for me.”

                   “Thank you, sir,” Richard said.  He quickly found Henri and lifted his friend onto his back.  Henri groaned but said nothing.  Richard made the trip to the campfire with Henri and then returned for von Steuben.

                   “I shall not forget this, Freikorporal Schuler,” said the baron.  “Here help me up.  Maybe I can walk a little distance.  I cannot have you carrying me like a sack of flour.”

                   “Yes, sir.  Oh and sir, I am now Korporal Schuler.  The King himself promoted me.”

                   “Well, congratulations, Korporal.  How did the regiment do?”

                   As they made their way Richard told von Steuben all that had happened.  The baron was particularly interested in Richard’s promotion by the King himself.

                   Richard placed the Major von Steuben beside Henri.  Other wounded were now beginning to be collected.  It would be a hard day tomorrow for the new Korporal.  He would oversee the burial details.  Many graves would be filled.

---

                   Henri’s first request of Richard was for water.  His second request was to return to Herrnhut.  “Take me home, Richard.”  Henri said weakly.  “Take me home.”

                   So, when Baron von Steuben was sent back to Magdeburg to recover, Richard requested permission from Major von Lestwitz that he be allowed to take Henri.

                   “I see no harm in that, Korporal Schuler.  It will be a long time before the regiment reforms.  We are finished for awhile.  Major von Steuben said you are to be trusted and that he knows how to summon you.  We will need you, but for now take care of your friend.  I think that even if he lives, Private Broussard has spent his last day in uniform.”

                   Richard traveled carefully because Henri was very weak.  Eventually, though they reached Herrnhut and the welcoming tears and hugs from Hilda and Maria and even Johann.  The two women immediately began tending to Henri, though Hilda had also to care for the baby, Richard Henri.  Henri was placed in a bed at Johann and Hilda’s home and either Maria or Hilda was with Henri at all times.

---

                   Days went by, and then weeks and months.  Richard had turned sixteen and Henri seventeen when they first arrived.  Christmas had passed.  Soon springtime and Easter had come and gone.

                   It had taken Henri a long time to recover.  It was feared that Henri would not get better, but with the coming of spring he began to get stronger and soon he was able to take short walks with Maria.  With Henri’s gradual recovery, Hilda was able to turn over most of his care to Maria so she could devote her time to the baby.

                   Richard spent most of his time with Johann.  The “old” sergeant and the new corporal would sit by the fire or, as the weather became better, on the front porch of their cottage and talk.

                   Johann’s role in the community had grown.  He was a natural leader and people of the community would come to him with problems or questions about their faith.  Johann had changed.  Certainly he had the same dignity and commanding presence, but there was sense of peace surrounding him.  He had found his place in God’s service.

                   Richard enjoyed talking about the army with Johann.  The two would trade stories often, and Richard would tell Johann about the antics of his old comrades in the regiment.  Johann was grieved that so many had died.  “I regret I could not speak to them about God’s love in Christ,” Johann said one evening.  “They were good and loyal soldiers for “Old Fritz.  I know they would have served God with even greater loyalty.”

                   Richard usually would grow silent when Johann spoke of God.  Richard still carried anger against God in his heart.  He had seen so much suffering.  Why would God hurt people if He loved them?  Why did my mother, and father, and brother have to die?  Why did my friends in the regiment die?  Why did God steal my new family away from me?  Why did God let me get hurt?  Is God trying to hurt me?

            Richard would sometimes go off by himself and ponder these questions.  He still carried with him the wooden comb made by his brother and the ring which had belonged to his mother.  He would remember the knife which Herr Mueller had left in the body of the sailor.  At moments such as these his hand would reach to his right cheek and touch the wide scar that was left from the bullet on that day.  Why me, God?  Why do you hate me, God?

A Soldier of the King - Chapter Thirteen

This posting is part of the series based on the book, A Soldier of the King, by John Slider.  It may be purchased by going to the link in the left column.

Chapter Thirteen:  Torgau - The Third Battle

1760

                   Richard was enjoying his new rank and reputation within the regiment.  The old veterans had begun to take him under their supervision.  These were not bad men, but they were rough and hard and Richard began to adopt some of their less-than-gentle habits while on the march.  Henri prayed for him.

                   “Quit worrying about me,” Richard said to Henri.  “I’ll be fine.”

                   Richard was quite pleased with himself.  He had surrendered his musket for the regimental colors.  Though promoted to Gefreiter he was serving as the regiment’s acting Freikorporal, a rank which was normally filled by a young nobleman who was waiting on a commission.  The Freikorporals usually were allowed to associate with the officers, though they served in the ranks with the soldiers.  A Freikorporal was chosen to carry the colors for the regiment.

                   Since Richard was only an acting Freikorporal he could not associate with the officers, but his new duty allowed him some freedom of movement and excused him from many duties performed by the other soldiers.  Baron von Steuben, now a major,  at Richard’s request saw to it that Henri was appointed to the small group of soldiers which escorted the colors in battle, allowing the two friends to stay together.  Henri appreciated the lighter duties and could devote more time to his drawings and correspondence with Johann and Hilda, and of course Maria.

                   Hilda wrote often for Johann and herself.  They were deeply involved with the children of Herrnhut.  Johann was wonderful with them, and as he grew in faith Johann was asked to take on some leadership responsibilities in the community.  He was even studying to be a lay preacher.

                   Their baby, Richard Henri, was healthy and happy.  Both Hilda and Johann were devoted to the youngster and looked forward to the time when the baby’s “big brothers,” as she called Richard and Henri, could come and see the new addition to the family.

                   Johann of course was proud of Richard’s success in the army, but through Hilda’s writings and his own he tried to warn Richard of the temptations and dangers of army life.  “Learn from my mistakes, not your own,” he would write Richard.

                   Maria would write often, and her frequent and long letters were a great comfort to Henri.  She would talk about Herrnhut and her faith.  She would remind Henri that she loved him and that she prayer for him.

                   One day a letter from Maria arrived.

Dear Henri,

            I am writing you today with a sad heart.  My letter will be short because of my sadness.

            My grandfather, Bishop von Zinsendorf, died last night.  He was a great man, loved by our people and his granddaughter.  I shall miss him.

            His absence now makes me long even more for you to be here  with me.  I know you would help lift my heart and remind me of God’s love for us, as Grandfather would.

            He is in heaven now with his Lord Jesus Christ whom he loves.  I pray for us, Henri, that we may love Christ as he did, and one day the two of us may join Grandfather in heaven.

            With all my love,

Maria

                   Henri had little time to mourn the loss of the great man for soon the regiment was on the march again, this time toward Torgau.

---

                   Prussian soldiers in the army of Old Fritz were never aware of the greater strategic significance of their marches.  All they knew was that they were to walk wherever they were ordered for however long they were ordered.  Sometimes the army would move one direction and then reverse itself as the King sought out the enemy and the most advantageous position for battle.  Often times soldiers did not know specifically where they were.

                   As the army wound its way westward from Liegnitz, Richard and Henri began to recognize familiar territory.  Soon they realized that they were near Herrnhut.

                   Richard saw the longing in his friend’s face as they passed so near to that little village where Maria, Johann, Hilda, and the baby were.  Richard himself thought it would be nice to pay a short visit, but they could not.  They had to march.

                   Richard knew that if Henri ever got back to Herrnhut he would never leave.  Henri debated with himself whether or not he should simply sneak out of camp one night and return the Herrnhut, but he concluded sadly that he would stay with Richard and the army.  He had no love for the army, but he had a sense of duty and a fear of being hunted as a deserter.  When he went back to Maria and Herrnhut he wanted to go without any hindrances.  So, he stayed.

                   Eventually the Old Fritz turned his army northwest.  The soldiers began to sense that the enemy was near, in the increased activity and haste of the cavalry and in the stern countenances of the officers.

---

                   The city of Torgau in Saxony is located on the western side of the Elbe River.  The area formed a triangle of roads.

                   The Prussian Army approached Torgau from the southwest, encamping several miles south of Mockrehna.  The peace of the encampment would be a sharp contrast to the upcoming struggle.  Both armies tried to sleep that evening, both knowing what was to come.

                   Richard had a dream that night.  It came soon after he had drifted off to sleep.  It did not begin as a dream, but simply as a remembering of the time when he nearly drowned and his father rescued him.

                   Richard was a small boy in a boat on the sea with his father.  A storm came upon them suddenly and Richard was tossed from the boat.  He could feel himself sinking under the water.  The waves were choppy and the sea was cold.  He could see his father reaching for him.

                   And then his father would disappear.  No one was there to save him.  He drifted farther from the now empty boat calling, “Father, Father, where are you?  Help me!”  He struggled to stay afloat, but could not see which direction was the shore.  Soon he became too weak to care.  He gave into the sea and slowly began to sink below the waves.  As he went under, the waves gently rocked him.  He felt no discomfort, only a numb blackness.  There was a sense of relief coming over him.

                   Suddenly a hand crashed through  the surface of the water.  The hand firmly grasped Richard and pulled him from the choppy sea.

                   Richard fought against the power of its grasp.  It was not his father’s hand.  He could sense it pulling him through the storm toward the shore.  Richard tried to shake loose and return to the water.

                   He opened his mouth to cry out, “Let me go!  I want to go back!”  He was awake.

                   “Richard,” whispered Henri.  “Richard, you are dreaming.  Are you all right?”

                   “What?  Oh yes, Henri I’m fine.  Go back to sleep.”  Richard began to put on his uniform.  “I’m getting up now.  You get some more rest.”

                   “Very well, Richard.  Do you need anything?  Do you want to talk?”

                   “No.  I’ll be fine.  Go back to sleep.”

                   “Richard,” said Henri, “Maybe God is trying to speak to you.  Maybe we should talk about your dream.”

                   “If it is God, I don’t want him to speak with me,” Richard snapped.  “Now be quiet and go back to sleep.”

                   Richard, now in his uniform, left the tent and walked to the edge of the encampment.  He walked past the glowing campfires and the snoring soldiers.  He stopped at the edge of the camp and watched the predawn glow of the sun on the sky.

                   So God is trying to speak to me.  Well, leave me alone, God.  You’ve taken everything from me.  I hate you, God.  Leave me alone!

                   As the sun began to rise in the east, Richard turned his back and walked into camp.  The army would be stirring soon, preparing for the battle.  Richard’s eyes glowed with determination.  He walked back to his tent with resolve.  God, either you leave me alone, or I will go where you cannot find me.  Either way, I will be free of you.

---

                   The sunrise on Monday morning, November 3, 1760, was glorious.  Henri was now awake, reading his Bible, saying his prayers, and thanking God for a beautiful morning.  “Richard, look at what God has made!  What a beautiful sight.  Nothing man can make can compare!” marveled Henri.

                   Richard grumbled in response, “It will be a glorious battle.”

                   Soon the Prussian Army was formed for its march northward.  Regiment No. 5 would lead the column at the beginning.  Richard proudly carried the colors at the head of the column.  Henri and the other escorts marched around him.

                   Marshall Leopold von Daun, their old Austrian nemesis, had arrayed the greater portion of his army in a line running northwest from Suptitz and east of Grosswig.  His center covered the hill above Suptitz, his left was anchored on Zinna, and his right was anchored on some small ponds above Grosswig.

                   Though they possessed good ground, the Austrian lines were thin.  “Old Fritz” determined that an attack in the center from both the rear and the front of the Austrian position would split the entire line and cause the enemy to collapse.

                   To execute this “pincer” movement, Frederick divided his army into two corps.  The plan was for one corps to march eastward toward Torgau and then turn and attack the Austrian’s from the front at Suptitz.  They were to be supported by massed artillery firing from a hill near Grosswig.

                   The other corps would march north, skirting the Austrian line, reach the Elbe River, turn and plunge into the enemy’s rear.  The King took personal command of this wing of his army.

                   At dawn the King led 21,000 infantry and 6,000 cavalry on its sweep to the Elbe.  The troops crossed the forest of Torgau in three columns - infantry in the center and on the right, cavalry on the left.  Regiment No. 5 led the right column closest to the enemy.  Count Hans Ernst Karl von Ziethen commanded the other corps of 18,000 infantry, 7,000 cavalry, 48 heavy guns, and other artillery.

                   The left and center columns of the King’s corps quickly encountered a small Austrian small force of hussars and dragoons accompanied by three battalions of pandours.[1] This small unit did little to halt the progress of the Prussians.  Frederick ordered a few cannon fired at this small unit, and they quickly retreated to the Austrian main body.

                   Similarly, Frederick found opposition from ten Austrian grenadier battalions in a clearing at Weidenhain.  Old Fritz deployed Regiment Number 5 to attack, and the enemy quickly retreated.

                   Farther on, the two Prussian infantry columns under the King, discovered that a regiment of dismounted Austrian cavalry was between them.  Frederick immediately attacked.

                   Regiment Number 5 was the first into battle since they were in the lead of a column.  Richard marched at the center of the regiment as it advanced on the enemy.  Occasionally they halted to fire on the Austrians.  Finally, they closed with the enemy.  A hard, hand-to-hand conflict followed.  Richard charged into the midst of the Austrians, shouting to his fellow soldiers to follow him forward.  In a matter of minutes the entire Austrian cavalry regiment was destroyed.  The Prussians resumed their march.

                   King Frederick’s corps, with Regiment Number 5 in the lead of the right column, emerged from the forest onto the small plain of Neiden in the rear of Daun’s Austrians at about 1:00pm.   Frederick’s center column of infantry remained in the center, swinging wider, as did the cavalry, which had been on the extreme left.  The corps, therefore, approached the Austrians from the rear in echelon with the right column in the lead.  Richard purposefully marched forward with the colors.  Henri dutifully stayed by his side.  The regiment, already reorganized for battle, deployed its two battalions.  Richard was front and center of the first battalion.  Immediately around him were the color escorts.  Two divisions of two platoons each were to his left, and two were to his right.  Musicians were stationed behind the colors.  Drummers were placed behind each flank.  The second battalion was arrayed similarly, except for the colors, behind the first.  In the midst of the massed regiment, between the two battalions, rode the Colonel-in-Chief, Ferdinand, Duke von Braunschweig, who was commanding the regiment in this engagement.  Baron von Steuben, now a major, commanded the first battalion and marched beside the colors.

---

                   The pace of the march increased.  Regiment Number 5, since it was the lead column in the echelon, would engage the enemy first.  Richard and Henri were in the front rank.  Richard’s heart began to beat harder and harder with excitement.  Henri prayed.

                   Some Austrian artillery fired ineffectively at the regiment and then made a quick retreat toward the main body at Zinna.  Suddenly the King himself rode in front of the regiment into the small wood before them to reconnoiter the enemy positions.  Richard was in awe and inspired by the bravery of his King.  As Old Fritz returned to the lines, Richard joined in a lusty cheer for his monarch.

---

                   The Austrian commander, Marshal Daun, at first could not believe that King Frederick was approaching from behind him.  After many reports confirming the Prussian presence in his rear, Daun turned all four hundred pieces of artillery to bear on Frederick’s corps.

                   No matter how brilliant or brave Old Fritz was, he could not prevent the carnage that would occur.  Daun’s massed artillery opened fire spraying the approaching Prussians with deadly accuracy.

                   As he marched forward Richard could see and feel the Austrian cannon finding their range.  Explosions roared and shook the earth.  Hot canon balls passed close giving a deep hum and sucking in the air behind them.  Murderous fire swept through the lines of the first battalion of Regiment Number 5.  Soldiers he had seen only a few hours before lay dead or dying.  Still the regiment marched forward.  Over eight hundred infantry were killed in this initial barrage.

                   The King’s corps, coming from the north of the Austrian positions, paused quickly to deploy into attacking formation with only his already depleted infantry.  The infantry formed into three lines.  The King did not wait for the other corps, commanded by Zeithen, to attack simultaneously from the south.

                   Old Fritz sent in the first line with Regiment Number 5.  Again the Austrian artillery dealt death to the Prussians.  The line advanced on the run, yet always in disciplined formation.  The air was filled with smoke and screams.  Richard heard nothing but the constant pounding of the canon to his front.  Men were dying all around him.  The colors he carried were being ripped by bullets and shrapnel.

                   A bright flash erupted barely twenty meters in front of him.  Something tugged at his left leg.  At the same instant Henri shouted his name, “Richard!”  He turned to see his friend collapse to the ground.  Richard reached for Henri, but could not move.  He turned to call for help, but could see no one standing from the regiment.

                   Where are they?  Am I alone?  He turned again to face the enemy.  His duty was to advance, but his left leg would not move.  He looked down and saw that the left side of his uniform trousers had turned crimson.  He began to feel dizzy.  He looked at the ground down at his feet.  Suddenly the ground rushed up to his face.  He could smell the thick green grass.

                   Everything was quiet now.  He could not move, but his face was turned toward Henri.  Henri looked back at him.  “Richard.  Help me,” Henri gasped weakly.

                   Richard tried to move, but he could not.  “Richard,  help me.”

                   Richard could hear and see everything, but he could not move.  He saw the green grass and the blue sky with white clouds.  He heard flies buzzing, men moaning, horses whining, and the cheers of the Austrians.  He could also hear the second line of Prussian infantry marching forward.  I’ve got to warn them.  Go back!  Stay away!  He tried to speak, but could not.

                   “Richard, help me, help .... me ....”

            Richard’s world began to circle and soon there was darkness.

---

[1]Hussars and dragoons are heavy and light cavalry.  Pandours are Hungarian irregular light infantry dressed in Turkish-style uniforms and known for their marksmanship.

A Soldier of the King - Chapter Twelve

This posting is from the book, A Soldier of the King, by John Slider.  It is available for purchase by linking to the distributor in the left column of this blog.

Chapter Twelve:  Liegnitz - The Second Battle

1760

                   “How can you stand it?” asked Henri as he collapsed on his cot in the barracks.  “If it isn’t too hot, its too cold.  My uniform always itches.  And the constant repetition!  ‘Face right, face left, face about, right shoulder, left shoulder.’”  He mimicked the voice of their training sergeant.

                   “Stand what?  Oh come on Henri,” teased Richard as he took a big drink from the bucket of water in their barracks.  “It’s sort of fun.  And we’re good, too.  We don’t get in trouble like the new recruits.  Its because we have some experience, and the sergeant knows we’ve been in battle before.”

                   The boys had made their long journey north and west from Herrnhut back to the regimental headquarters in Magdeburg quickly, though Richard almost had to drag Henri.  They had arrived in November before Richard’s fifteenth birthday.  The cold weather was just starting.

                   Some of the old veterans greeted the two boys - now young men - warmly.  They remembered how the two drummers had saved the regiment’s reputation and had been recognized for bravery.  Captain von Steuben was at the garrison also, and even though he was formal with Richard and Henri, they could tell he was happy to see them.

                   Richard and Henri were quickly issued their new uniforms and equipment.  They received their Prussian blue uniform coat with straw-yellow facings and cuffs and red lining, straw-yellow britches and waistcoat, a white shirt with laced front, black shoes, and two pairs of leggings or gaiters - black for winter and white for summer.  Their black tricorn hats had the red, white, and yellow regimental pompoms on each corner.  They already knew how to curl their hair as required by regulations - one less roll on the right to allow the hat to be cocked - and the long queue of hair down their back bound with black tape.  Both boys attempted to grow mustaches with limited effect.

                   Their equipment consisted of a leather cartridge box which was worn on the right hip and suspended from the left shoulder by a wide white belt.  They were issued sixty rounds of ammunition for the box.  They also received a calfskin knapsack for carrying their personal equipment - spare clothing, comb, brush, looking-glass, wax for shoes and mustache, polishing brush and rag, a screwdriver, spare gaiter buttons and a hook for fastening the gaiters, and three tent pegs.  On the march this knapsack, a linen haversack, and a canteen were carried over the right shoulder.

                   When in the field, they would share a tent with four other privates.  Tents were carried by horses, but the four tent mates had to take turns carrying a large metal pot for cooking.

                   They were also issued their twenty-five inch infantry sabers and scabbards as well as their muskets with red leather slings.   

                   Even though they were veterans of a battle, the training was hard, but not as hard as on the new recruits.  Training was stern and severe, intended to produce instant, uniform, and rapid response to orders.  Beatings were common, though Richard and Henri, because of experience and reputation, avoided much punishment.

                   Training particularly focused on loading, firing, and reloading the musket efficiently and quickly and drill which would allow the soldiers to fight as a unit on the battle field.  They were constantly marching back and forth, side to side, forming various formations for firing.  Since muskets were usually not effective past one hundred yards, massed, rapid, and unified firing was stressed in the regular infantry units instead of marksmanship. Most armies at the time could repeat a loading and firing cycle three or four times a minute (once every fifteen to twenty seconds).  The Prussian infantry, however, was required to complete up to seven cycles per minute.  They could fire once every seven to eight seconds, giving them a tremendous advantage in battle.

                   Richard was particularly adept at reloading the musket, which was a complex operation involving several steps.  The soldier fires, then, on order to reload, lowers the weapon, takes a cartridge from his pouch and bites it open.  From this opened cartridge he pours a measured quantity of gunpowder down the barrel of the gun, followed by a piece of cloth wadding, and finally the bullet.  Then the gunpowder, wadding, and bullet are packed tightly together by punching the long blunt-ended ramrod down the barrel.  The ramrod is replaced, and then small amount of gunpowder is placed in the flash pan.  The weapon is reshouldered and ready for firing.[1]

                   Richard enjoyed everything about the training.  It gave him little time to dwell on the past, though during times alone Henri would see Richard remove the comb and ring from his haversack.  He would get very quiet.

                   In his spare time Henri would draw and correspond with Johann and Hilda.  They would write both boys regularly, but only Henri would answer. 

                   Henri was becoming a very accomplished artist, though self-taught.  He would dream of Maria, Herrnhut, and becoming a real artist.

---

                   One day in July, Richard burst into the barracks.  “Have you heard the news, Henri?”  he shouted.

                   Henri was lying on his cot reading the latest letter from Hilda and Johann.  He looked up with surprise.  “Yes, I have, right here in this letter.  Did you get a letter from Hilda and Johann, too?”

                   “What are you talking about?” said Richard.  “I’m talking about the news.”

                   “Me, too.  Hilda’s news!  Did you get a letter, too?”

                   “Hilda’s news?  Yes I got a letter, but I haven’t opened it yet.”

                   “Hilda has had her baby!  Its a boy!  They’re going to name him after us - Richard Henri Wagner!  Congratulations!”

                   “Oh, that’s fine, but I have real news!” said Richard.  “The regiment is moving out!  We’re going to war!”

                   “Oh no!”

                   “Oh yes!”

                   “It is God’s will,” sighed Henri.

                   “It’s the King’s orders,” responded Richard.

                   The regiment marched out of Magdeburg on a hot July day.  Again it moved southward toward Liegnitz, Silesia.[2]  In its ranks were two new privates - Henri Broussard and Richard Schuler.

---

                   Frederick’s Prussian Army met the combined Russian and Austrian armies at Liegnitz on August 15, 1760.  Strategically, the clash helped the King avoid a disaster.  Though his strategic situation was not improved, the battle did prove the Prussian Army to be the best in Europe.  Frederick used imaginative and flexible leadership with superior mobility, discipline, and fire power to defeat an enemy of greater numbers.

                   Richard acquitted himself well in battle again.  Placed in the front rank and finding himself under the command of Captain von Steuben, Richard fought with abandon, even at times carelessly.  Henri worried for his safety, but Richard seemed to want to prove himself a good soldier to von Steuben and the regiment.

                   The King used an oblique attack which none but the Prussian troops could execute with success.  With the precision and velocity the attacking unit would form itself into what looked to be a disorganized mass of troops.  Seen from a distance mixed uniforms and standards would appear totally chaotic - one unit heaped upon another.  Only when the King gave the command did this intricate knot of seemingly disorganized humanity uncoil itself into perfect order and with speed fall upon the weakest flank of the enemy.[3]

                   Such was the case at Liegnitz.  Henri and Richard under the command of Captain von Steuben were on the extreme right flank of the Prussians.  Firing volley after volley, they overwhelmed the Austrian left and rolled the enemy from the field.

                   After the battle Henri wept.  There was such waste.  God, what brings us to do such things?  Why do we rage against one another?  He longed for the peace of Herrnhut.  He longed for Maria.

                   “Private Schuler, report to Captain von Steuben at once!”  bellowed the corporal.

                   “Yes, Corporal,” responded Richard and off he ran to report without a word to Henri.

                   He reached the Captain quickly.  “Private Schuler reporting, sir!” said Richard as he came to attention before von Steuben.

                   “Private Schuler, yes.  You did well today.  We all did well to survive, did we not?”

                   Richard did not know how to respond.

                   “It does not matter, soldier.  Let me get to the point.  I was watching you today.  As I said you did well, very well.  You have a future here.  You are being promoted to Gefrieter.[4]  Congratulations I will keep my eye on you.

                   “You fought well today, too well.  You must take care, still you must have God watching over you.  Too many risks!

                   “One more thing Gefrieter Schuler, our regimental Freikorporal was killed in the battle.  You have been assigned to carry the regiment’s colors.  God be with you, Schuler.”

            “Thank you, Captain,” said Richard, then leaving he thought God has nothing to do with it.

---

[1]In the time it takes a reader to complete this page, a Prussian soldier could have fired his weapon seven times while enemy soldiers were firing at him and his comrades were falling around him.

[2]Now Legnica, Poland.

[3]According to Thomas Carlyle, History of Friedrich II of Prussia, called Frederick the Great.  London, 1886.

[4]Senior Private, Private First Class, or Lance Corporal

A Soldier of the King - Chapter Eleven

This posting is a part of the series based on the book, A Soldier of the King, by John Slider.  It is available for purchase through the link on the left column of this blog.

Chapter Eleven:  Life at Herrnhut

1759

                   Richard had never wanted to stay long at Herrnhut.  When he turned fourteen on November 30, 1758, he had sought a way to get Johann, Hilda, and Henri to return to Magdeburg.  The three of them, however, wanted to remain for as long as they could.  Johann was growing in his faith and finding a place in the community with Hilda.  Henri had rediscovered at Herrnhut what he had once experienced with his family in the close community of Huguenots.

                   Henri was also in love.  At fifteen, a year older than Richard, Henri was devoted to Maria, and it was obvious she felt the same about him.  They spent every moment together.

                   Richard felt abandoned again.  His new friend, Henri, was never around.  Johann and Hilda were always at Bible studies and prayer meetings or involved in some aspect of the community.

                   Richard hated Maria, hated Herrnhut, and hated God.  God was taking his new family from him, just like God had done before.

                   Richard wanted out.  The problem was he had no where to go.  The regiment had not reformed in Magdeburg and his new family was staying at Herrnhut for the time at least.  Richard would just have to wait for something to happen.

---

                   Richard realized immediately that Herrnhut was not the place for someone who wanted to get away from God.  It was a community organized around faith.

                   The leader of the community was Bishop von Zinsendorf who was assisted by a group of Elders.  Then, in descending order, there were Teachers, Deacons, Overseers, Monitors, Almoners, Attenders, and Servants.  All of the leaders were chosen by the community.  Males and females were separated and then divided into five classes each - little boys or girls, middle boys or girls, big boys or girls, young men or women, and married men or women.  Each of these ten divisions had its own elder, deacon, overseer, monitor, almoner, attender, and servant.

                   Each class was further divided into about ten bands or smaller groups which would gather two or three times every week for confession of sins and prayer for one another.  The leaders of the community would gather weekly to discuss their particular concerns about the souls under their charge.

                   Upon his baptism Johann entered the class for married men.  Hilda readily joined in the class for married women.  At fifteen Henri participated in the class for young men.  There was another class which met weekly for “strangers” or those visiting the community to ask questions.  Richard, on occasion, would attend these meetings keeping silent during the entire time.

                   The leaders of the community quickly identified Johann and Hilda as persons who loved young people and to whom children responded.  They were asked to work in the Orphan House, and they readily agreed.  Richard and Henri were allowed to complete their studies in the community’s school.  Monday through Saturday the two young men attended classes on reading, writing, arithmetic, history, geography, Latin, Greek, Hebrew, French, German, and English.  Henri excelled in the Biblical or classical languages, reading and writing.  Richard, though he would not admit it, enjoyed arithmetic, history and geography, and the modern languages - the more practical subjects.  His French and English became quite good, and he was able to converse with Henri in French, and practice his English on visitors to Herrnhut.

                   Because they worked in the Orphan House, Johann and Hilda were up before five every morning.  After awakening the children and leading them in prayer, they would help the children with their morning chores at get them to school by seven.  At eight the entire community would gather for the hour of prayer, and then back to school from nine to eleven.  From eleven to one the children of the community would exercise and eat their mid-day meal and then return to classes until five.  Supper was at six, but before then, the children would clean the Orphan House.  At seven Johann and Hilda led the orphans on a walk and prayer time.  The smaller children went to bed at eight and the older children joined the community at the evening prayer service.

                   The children and youth of the community received the special care and attention of the adults.  The young people were provided with an excellent education and all of the adults prayed for them and sought ways to address their needs.

                   The only variations to this schedule were Sundays and Saturdays.  On Sundays the community gathered at six for its own worship, and then walked to the town of Berthelsdorf for public worship.  Evening services on Sundays began at four, followed by a community-wide conference.  At eight there was always a brief prayer service followed by the young men of the community walking through Berthelsdorf singing hymns.

                   On the first Saturday of the month there was confession, counseling, and the Lord’s Supper and a foot washing service.  On the second Saturday there was a special service of prayer for the children.  The third Saturday emphasized prayers of intercession and thanksgiving.  The leaders gathered on the fourth Saturday of the month.

---

                   In October a messenger arrived with summons from Baron von Steuben for Richard and Henri.  The regiment was reforming and Privates Schuler and Broussard were required to report.

                   Richard was delighted.  He jumped around the main room of the little cottage.  “We’re going home!” he shouted, then looking at the faces of Johann, Hilda, and Henri he frowned.  “What’s the matter with you?  We’re going home!”

                   For a moment there was silence.  Then it was broken by Hilda.  “We are home, Richard,” she said softly.  She glanced at Johann who nodded and smiled at her.

                   “Richard,” said Johann, thoughtfully drawing on his pipe, “Hilda and I are staying.  The regiment does not want me any more.  I am needed here.  We are needed here, and we need to be here.  My faith in God is new and I have so much to learn about God.  I’m just now beginning to walk on this new wooden leg!”  He tapped his pipe on the leg.  “And also . . .“ he hesitated and glanced at Hilda who blushed and looked down.  They both reached for each other and held hands.  “We are going to have a baby!  I guess that makes you two uncles or brothers or something!  We had thought we could not have children, but God has given us this blessing and we want to raise our child here.”

                   There could not have been two more opposite reactions to this news than the reactions of Richard and Henri.  Richard was stunned and dropped into the nearest chair.  His face was drained of all color.  Henri was beaming with pleasure.

                   But quickly their initial responses faded.  “Well,” said Richard standing up with a resolute look on his face, “I am going back with or without you.”

                   “What should I do, Johann?” said Henri.  “I want to stay here with you and Hilda.”

                   “Don’t forget Maria,” chided Richard bitterly.

                   “Yes, Maria, too.”

                   “Richard, Henri,” said Johann.  “Let your old sergeant give you some advice.  First, Richard, you should go back, but remember that God has a place for you here and you are always in our prayers.

                   “Henri, you too should go back.  There would be too much trouble for you if you do not.  We will pray for your return to us as well.  If Maria loves you, she will wait for you to return.  Boys, young men, you must look after each other and know that we love you and want you to return safely.”

                   “Johann is right,” said Hilda.  “Come back to us safe and soon.”

                   “It is God’s will,” sighed Henri.

                   “It is the King’s will,” corrected Richard.

---

                   The entire community turned out to see the two young soldiers off.  Count von Zinsendorf said a brief prayer over the lads, Johann and Hilda hugged them both, and then they began their long walk back to Magdeburg.

                   Henri had said goodbye to Maria the evening before.  It was as hard on Henri as it was on her.  She said she could not bear to see him when he left.

                   Henri had hoped that she had changed her mind.  He wanted to see Maria again, but as he and Richard walked away, Maria was not to be seen.

                   Richard and Henri gradually began ascending the road out of the valley which would lead them back to Dresden and then to Magdeburg.  They retraced their route of almost a year ago with different feelings - Richard cheerfully looking forward, and Henri tearfully looking backward.

                   As they came to the crest of the hill where they had paused to have their first sight of Herrnhut, Henri saw the tree where he first caught a glimpse of two big green eyes with flecks of blue and gray peering at him.  At first he thought he only imagined someone behind the tree now, but then he saw the face - two green eyes, a cute nose with a sprinkle of freckles, a bright friendly smile of full lips and white teeth, and cascades of long blonde hair. Henri ran to her.

                   “Maria!”  Henri managed to say.  They embraced.

                   “Henri, I love you.  I always will.”

A Soldier of the King - Chapter Ten

This posting is from the book, A Soldier of the King, by John Slider.  It may be purchased by following the link on the left column of this blog.

Chapter Ten:  Will You Enlist in His Service?

                   It was Sunday, the last Sunday of November.  Hilda had awakened early to prepare a good breakfast before the four of them went to worship.  Henri was not far behind her in awakening.  He wanted to be helpful, but he was also anxious to get the community’s service on time.  Johann remained in bed asleep, still tired from the journey and the events of yesterday.

                   Richard remained in bed, but he was not asleep.  He had kept his eyes shut until Henri left the room, then he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.  He did not like what was happening.  Richard wanted to leave Herrnhut as soon as possible.  There was too much talk of God and faith and love.  He had had enough already.  He knew he would be expected to attend worship, but he did not have to like it.  He wanted Johann, Hilda, Henri, and himself to leave as soon as possible and get back to the regiment and their home in Magdeburg.

                   Henri was going to be a problem, Richard thought.  Henri was impressed with the count or the bishop or whatever he wanted to call himself; but Henri had lost his mind over Maria.  Richard had to admit that she was nice and pretty, but he had to get Henri away from her for his own good.  Richard had to keep his new family together and the best way to do that was to leave Herrnhut and Maria behind.

                   Soon Richard heart a tapping at the door,  and Henri entered the room.  “Come on, Richard,” said Henri.  “We don’t want to be late for worship!”

---

                   “Brothers and sisters in Christ,” said Bishop von Zinsendorf with a warm smile.  “Before I begin my sermon today I want to thank you all for your prayers for my health.  Your concern for me has given me much joy, but remember whether we live or die, we do so for Christ.

                   “We have some guests with us today.  They arrived just yesterday - Sergeant Johann Wagner and Frau Hilda Wagner and Privates Henri Broussard and Richard Schuler.  I know you will welcome them with open arms.”

                   Hilda and Henri looked up and smiled at the congregation.  Henri caught Maria’s eye.  Johann sat straight and stared forward to cover his embarrassment.  Richard looked down and the ground in silent anger, resenting having to be present and resenting even more being mentioned in the service.

                   “Brothers and sisters, all of us have seen the suffering of mankind.  Our guests have just come from battle and seen the suffering and tragedy of war during their brave and honorable service.  Many of you have come here to escape persecution because of your beliefs and have had loved ones suffer and sometimes die for faith in Jesus Christ.    “Suffering and death is a part of this world.  Some would say they are too great a part.

                   “As I listened last night to the stories of our guests, I could not help but feel that we all needed to hear what God promises us in the midst of the suffering and death of this world.  I take as my scripture Second Samuel, chapter 14, verse 14:

For we must needs die, and are as water spilt on the ground, which cannot be gathered up again; neither doth God respect any person:  Yet doth He devise means, that His banished may not be expelled from Him.[1]

                   “Brothers and sisters, there shall be a time when all of us shall die.  None of us know the time of our death, though many of us who are older know that the time shall be sooner rather than later.

                   “The verse which I read tells us that we all must die, there is no exception.  We are in this world and we shall die.  We die because we sin.  We have turned from the life God wants to give us - a good life of joy and abundance, eternal life.  We sin, therefore we die.

                   “God makes no exceptions.  God makes no exceptions for the rich, or the brave, or the strong, or the good.  There are no exceptions because no one can be rich enough to purchase one more hour of life.  No one can be brave or strong enough to beat death and win one more minute of life.  No one can be good enough to earn one more second of life.  God does not respect any person - whether they are a count or a bishop like me, or whether they are a saint like you.  Saint Paul tells us in his letter to the Romans that we all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, and that the wages of sin are death.

                   “Is there anything we can do to escape the suffering and death of this world?  No, there is not.

                   “We are helpless.  Is there anything God can do for us?  Yes, there is.  God does not want us to die.  God does not want us to suffer the consequences of sin.  God does not want us to be estranged from Him.

                   “What does God do?  The verse tells us that “He doth devise means.”  God provides a way for us to escape sin and suffering and death in this world and in the world to come.  The means which God provides is our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

                   “Again our verse tells us that God does not want those who are banished and expelled from Him because of sin to be separated from Him for long.  Our Heavenly Father gives us Jesus Christ, His Son, to suffer and die for us so that we will no longer be separated from the Giver of Life.  Our Heavenly Father raised Jesus Christ from the dead so that those who believe in Him shall not perish.

                   “My dear children, what joy it is to be loved by God, our Father, and to follow His Son, our Lord Jesus Christ.  For when we follow Christ we do not go immediately into heaven, but we return to the world, as He came into the world and will return, this time with joy and a mission to suffer and to die with Christ to proclaim to others what God has done.

                   “You and I are soldiers in the Army of Christ.  You and I are fighting the battle with Christ.  We are fighting for the souls of friends, loved ones, and strangers, all of whom God loves.  We are living for Christ and dying for Christ.  We joyfully follow Christ into the battle knowing that we are saved for eternal life and God has already won the battle!”

                   Bishop von Zinsendorf paused.  He was tiring.  He looked over the congregation.  His eyes settled on Hilda whose face was glowing.  Then he saw Johann, sitting straight and tall, resplendent in his uniform.  The congregation was silent.

                   He continued preaching to the entire assembly in a quiet but intense voice, yet it seemed to Johann that the bishop spoke only to him.  “Christ needs faithful and committed soldiers.  Will you enlist in His service?  The drummer is sounding the call .”

                   As if in a daze Johann slowly but deliberately reached for his crutches.  He struggled to stand.  He shuffled sideways into the aisle.  Hilda was confused, “Johann, what . . . ?”

                   Von Zinsendorf saw him now and stretched out his open hand.  “Will you enlist in his service?” he repeated.

                   Johann felt numb and yet at the same time fully aware of all he was doing.  He moved down the aisle toward the front where von Zinsendorf stood with outstretched hand.

                   Hilda involuntarily stood where she was, her hands clasped in front of her mouth, tears freely flowing.  Henri stood with her and put his arm around her shoulder as he watched his Sergeant march forward.

                   Johann arrived at front.  He halted and centered himself before von Zinsendorf.  Shifting his right crutch to his left, he saluted as if on parade.  In a loud strong voice he said, “Sergeant Wagner, reporting for duty!”

                   Hilda and Henri ran forward, leaving Richard where he sat.  Hilda and Henri embraced Johann and the bishop came to them and put his arms around the threesome.  From the back of the congregation, a hymn was started and soon it swept through the room.

A mighty fortress is our God, A sword and shield victorious;

He breaks the cruel oppressor’s rod And wins salvation glorious.

The old satanic foe Has sworn to work us woe!

With craft and dreadful might He arms himself to fight.

On earth he has no equal. 

No strength of ours can match his might!  We would be lost, rejected.

But now a champion comes to fight, Whom God Himself elected.

You ask who this may be?  The Lord of Hosts is He!

Christ Jesus Mighty Lord, God’s only Son adored.

He holds the field victorious.

Though hordes of devils fill the land All threatening to devour us,

We tremble not, unmoved we stand; They cannot overpower us.

Let this world’s tyrant rage; In battle we’ll engage!

His might is doomed to fail; God’s judgment must prevail!

One little word subdues him.

God’s Word forever shall abide, No thanks to foes who fear it;

For God Himself fights by our side With weapons of the Spirit.

Were they to take our house, Goods, honor, child, or spouse,

Though life be wrenched away, They cannot win the day.

The Kingdom’s ours forever.[2]

---

[1]All scripture quotations are from the King James Version which would be closer to the German translation which would have been used at this time.  The New International Version translates this verse, “Like water spilled on the ground, which cannot be recovered, so we must die.  But God does not take away life; instead, He devises ways so that a banished person may not remain estranged from Him.”

[2]Text and tune by Martin Luther (1529).  Translated (1978) by Lutheran Book of Worship.  As appearing in Moravian Book of Worship (1995).

A Soldier of the King - Chapter Nine

This posting is a part of a series from the book, A Soldier of the King, by John Slider.  The book may be purchased by following the link on the left column of this blog.

Chapter Nine:  The Peace Which Surpasses All Understanding

                   It was getting colder now, in the last week of November, 1758; but the brisk weather was a contrast to the warm greeting Johann, Hilda, Richard, and Henri received at Herrnhut. On the day of their arrival they were taken to a small cottage set aside for visitors, and which Count von Zinsendorf had ordered prepared for them.  They found these temporary quarters comfortable, though smaller than their home in Magdeburg, and generously provisioned.  They wanted for nothing.

                   Hilda and Henri spent most of the first day getting Johann and Richard into bed, doing what little they had to do to put their quarters in order,  and receiving the many visitors who came to welcome them.  Through the day Henri kept one eye on the door in the hope that a certain young girl would come, but she had not.

                   By late afternoon the visits had slowed to a stop, but just before dinner time, there was a knock on the door.

                   Hilda was sitting in a rocking chair before the fire.  “Get that, will you Henri.  I don’t think I can get up from this chair!” sighed Hilda.

                   “Sure I will,” said Henri with the energy of a fourteen-year-old.

                   Henri opened the door and saw an imposing figure who practically filled the doorway.  As Henri took in the sight, he saw peering from around behind the gentleman two pretty green eyes.  He heard a giggle.

                   “Good evening, sir.  Please, come in,” said Henri finally.

                   Stepping into the cottage, the gentleman announced, “We have brought your dinner.”  Then he gave a command over his shoulder, “Come in, please.  Set it there on the table.”

                   Two servants, dressed in the finest clothing Henri had ever seen marched into the room.  They quickly set the table for six, placed platters and bowls and baskets in the center of the table’ then bowing excused themselves silently.

                   Hilda rose and came to the gentleman who bowed and introduced himself, “Good evening, Frau Wagner.  I am Bishop Nikolaus von Zinsendorf and this shy young lady is my granddaughter, Maria.  With your permission we have invited ourselves for dinner.”

                   “Herr Count!” said Hilda in surprise as she curtsied.  “This is such an honor.  May I present my friend, Henri Broussard.”

                   “Auch, ja! Private Broussard, I have heard about you from Baron von Steuben - not only your bravery but your compassion for the suffering.”

                   Henri turned bright red as he heard another girlish giggle.

                   “Oh, but I embarrass you.  Forgive me.  You should have worn your uniform so that all our young ladies would have fallen in love with you!”

                   It was Maria’s turn to blush.  Henri was silent, not knowing what to say.

                   The count continued, “Welcome to our community of faith, dear lady.  Please, call me Bishop von Zinsendorf, that is what I prefer.  Now where is the Sergeant and the other soldier?”

                   “Thank you, bishop.  My husband and our other friend were resting until dinner.  Henri, come help me with Johann and we can all eat.”

                   Hilda rushed into the room where Johann was resting and quickly awakened him.  Henri went into the other room and awakened Richard, who was ready to eat.  While Hilda and Henri were gone, von Zinsendorf had walked over to the table and Maria had busied herself in uncovering bowls and platters.

                   Johann hobbled into the room on crutches with Hilda hovering protectively behind him.  He was dressed in his sergeant’s uniform.  He came to attention as best he could before the count.  “Good evening, Herr Count.  Thank you for your gracious welcome and hospitality.”

                   “Think nothing of it, sir.  From what Baron von Steuben has told me you three men are the best and the bravest in his regiment.  We are honored to have you.  If there is anything you wish please let us know immediately.  Auch, and you must be Private Schuler.”

                   “Yes, Herr Count.  Good evening, sir,” replied Richard coming to attention just as Johann had.  He too was in his uniform.

                   “Well, shall we eat?” said the count.  “I am starving.  Sergeant Wagner, I believe you should take the head of the table.  Allow me the honor of assisting you.”

                   After Johann was seated, the others took their places.  Maria was especially careful to find herself seated next to Henri.

                   “Sergeant Wagner, may I call you Johann?” asked von Zinsendorf.  He went on without a reply.  “Johann, may I suggest that the three of us join Henri in his informality.  He is not wearing a coat and I envy him the comfort of it.  I am used to being informal when I visit in the homes of our community, especially at meal time.  With your permission, of course.”

                   “Yes, sir,” said Johann.  “I believe that would be fine.”

                   So Richard, Johann, and von Zinsendorf removed their coats.  Johann and Richard visibly relaxed and the count smiled.

                   “Now one more request from me,” said von Zinsendorf.  “May I say the blessing?”

                   “But of course, sir,” replied Hilda.

                   “Then let us pray.”

---

                   Johann, Hilda, Richard, and Henri began to relax as the meal progressed.  They told the count and Maria their own stories and how they had come to be together.  As the meal concluded, von Zinsendorf leaned back in his chair and recounted his own life:

                   “My family has always been strong followers of Martin Luther and Philipp Jakob Spener.  Spener was even a friend of my father.  We were such committed Protestants that we were forced to leave our home in Catholic Austria because of the Counter-Reformation. The family settled here in Saxony.

                   “I was born in 1700 and became Count Nikolaus Ludwig von Zinsendorf that year at the age of six weeks when my father died.”  His eyes appeared to be searching far into the distance.  The five others listened attentively.  “I was sent to be raised by my dear, loving maternal grandmother, the Baroness von Gersdorf.

                   “When I was ten years old, Grandmother sent me to study at the August Herman Francke’s school in Halle.  Doktor Francke, as you may know, was the successor to Spener in pietism and I consider him my spiritual father.  He stressed the experience of conversion and the new birth in the life of the Christian.  He had been forced to leave his teaching position at the University of Leipzig by the more orthodox Lutheran theologians there.    Professor Francke immeidately joined the faculty of the University of Halle and established a school for the sons of the aristocracy.

                   “I was a quiet and studious boy, but liked by my peers.  I always felt different from the others, though.  I had a strong interest in spiritual matters.  At school I even organized a group called The Order of the Grain of Mustard Seed to encourage my friends to love the whole human family in the spirit of Jesus Christ.

                   “I traveled extensively throughout Europe during my education.  I saw a lack of spiritual unity in Christianity.  Though I have always been an adherent of the doctrine of Martin Luther, I noticed how we Christians let theology divide us.  I saw the need to bring Christians together for evangelism and devotion to Christ.

                   “After my preparatory schooling, I followed my family’s plans for me and studied law at the University of Wittenburg.  During my time at this great university, in 1719, I happened to see a painting by Domenico Feti, entitled Ecce Homo.  Feti had painted Jesus wearing a crown of thorns.  The inscription on the painting read, ‘All this I did for you.  What are you doing for me?’  When I first saw that painting and inscription I knelt before it and wept - such suffering and longing in those eyes.  Later, in my rooms I  determined to devote my life to the service of Jesus Christ.  How I would do that I did not know.  I entered government service, still longing for a way to serve Jesus Christ.

                   “In 1722 I met a group of religious refugees from Moravia and Bohemia calling themselves the Unitas Fratrum.  I allowed them to settle on my estate near Berthelsdorf.  We established a small community here, called The Lord’s Watch.[1]  We were a mixture of different doctrines, but united as brothers and sisters.  Our purpose was to promote heartfelt, joyful religion and worldwide evangelism by Christians.  Soon others began to arrive and our community grew.

                   “On August 13, 1727 the Holy Spirit swept through the settlement in a mighty way, uniting and enlivening us all.  I became an evangelist and a lay preacher.  The Holy Spirit was working mightily with us and the people graciously looked to me for spiritual leadership.  In 1737 they invited me to be their bishop.

                   “Sadly, the church I loved so much, the followers of Luther, forced us to assume a separate organization, though our basic doctrine was Luther’s.  I began to write hymns, liturgies, and prayers for our small but growing group.”

                   Maria interrupted.  “Grandfather has even written a book of daily devotions for us,” she said proudly.  “He calls them, “Watch Words.’[2]  We read them daily to help us grow closer to Christ.”

                   “Please, forgive the pride of a loving granddaughter.  I felt the Holy Spirit working through us and through me.  We sent missionaries out to other lands - especially America and England.  God has led me to travel twice to America.

                   “Many have come to visit and learn from us.  I remember one visit by the Reverend John Wesley, the Anglican priest and founder of the Methodists.  He was greatly influenced by the faith of some of our brothers and sisters in America and England.  For a while I had hoped that we would be able to work together, but there has been some friction between us.  He is an able and good man, but much like myself, he is a man of strong opinions.”

                   “Sir, what is it that your community believes?”  asked Hilda.

                   “We believe that God has revealed Himself only in Jesus Christ.  We believe that we are saved by faith in Jesus Christ alone.  We believe that we are sanctified for life by the gift of the Holy Spirit.  We believe in heart religion, living in communion with God and one another, and doing the work of Jesus Christ in order to advance His Kingdom.  We worship frequently, especially with music.  We live in harmony in our small communities which are bound together by our common salvation through Christ, obedience to Christ, joy in Christ.  We establish schools, cooperate with other Christians, and above all evangelize in the spirit of Christ!”

                   Count von Zinsendorf’s voice grew in fervor as he spoke.  Suddenly, he looked at his watch.  “Oh my!  It has become late.  I am sure I have bored you with my testimony.”

                   “Not at all, sir,” said Hilda.  She, Johann, and Henri had been moved by von Zinsendorf’s story and asked many questions.  Richard had remained quiet through the meal.

                   “It is time for us to leave, dear lady.  Tomorrow is the Sabbath, and I am preaching.  I must have my rest . . . and my preparation.  Come Maria.  Let us go to our homes.”

                   “Grandfather, could Henri walk me home so you will not have to stay out in the weather?”  asked Maria in a shy tone.  She and Henri had been stealing glances at one another through dinner.

                   “Well, why would . . . oh yes, of course.  I would not want you to get lost without a man to protect you,” said the count in mock seriousness as Maria blushed.  Henri looked at her in surprise.  “After all your house and mine are so far apart and it is such a long walk from here!” von Zinsendorf  said in a teasing tone.

                   “Oh, Grandfather,” Maria looked down with an embarrassed smile.

                   “Actually that is a good idea, my dear.  Private Henri Broussard, will you escort my granddaughter home and protect her from danger?”

                   “I will be honored, sir,” said Henri a little too formally as he leaped up from the table and knocked over his chair.  He turned and tripped on the chair and stumbled into the other room to get his coat.

                   “I do not know who needs protecting more,” the count winked and whispered to Johann and Hilda.

                   Henri quickly returned, fumbling with his uniform coat.  Then Maria and the bishop bid farewell and left the little house with Henri.  Johann leaned on Hilda as they both watched the three walking down the street.  Richard glanced out the window, then went into his room, slamming the door behind him.

---

                   It was dark and snow was falling lightly as the three walked down the center lane of the village.  Their way was lit by soft glows coming from the windows of various cottages.  There was a peace and quiet which surrounded Henri like a warm blanket even in the cold early winter evening.

                   After only a short distance, Count von Zinsendorf stopped at one of the cottages.  “Well, I am home,” he announced.  “Now, Maria can you find your way home?”

                   “Yes, Grandfather,” she answered softly.

                   “Very well, then.  I will bid you both good night.”

                   “Good night, sir,” said Henri.  “I will take care of your granddaughter.”

                   “Thank you, young man.  I would not trust her safe keeping to anyone, you know.  I am depending upon your honor.”

                   “Yes, sir.  And thank you, sir,” responded Henri.

                   Von Zinsendorf entered his small home as Maria and Henri walked on.  They walked to the cottage next door and Maria stopped.

                   “What is it?” asked Henri.

                   “I am home,” said Maria.

                   “What?”

                   “I am home.”

                   “But I thought . . .”

                   “Henri,” said Maria standing at the door, “I wanted to be with you for a moment more.”

                   All Henri could manage was a whispered, “Oh.”  Soon he recovered enough to say, “Your grandfather is a fine man.”

                   “Yes, he is a wonderful person, but . . .”

                   “But what?”

                   “But he is sick.  The leadership of the community and his travels have taken their toll.  He is getting weaker.  We all worry about him.”

                   “I did not know,” said Henri.  “He seemed just fine.”

                   “Today was one of his better days and tomorrow he preaches.  He seems to get energy from preaching.  But he must rest more and longer than he used to.”

                   “I am sorry, Maria.  I will pray for him.”

                   “Thank you, Henri.  You are a kind person.  Kind and brave.  A good combination.”

                   Henri stared at his feet, not knowing what to say.  Maria leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.  “Good night, Private Henri Broussard,” she said quickly entering her home.

            Henri stood for a moment staring at the door, the snow falling on him.  Gradually he turned and walked slowly back to his own quarters.  As he walked he began to pray, thanking God for Richard, Johann and Hilda, von Zinsendorf and Herrnhut, and most of all Maria.  He remembered his family as he prayed.  He thanked God for the peace which he felt at this moment - a peace which surpassed all understanding 

---

[1]Herrnhut

[2]Losungen

A Soldier of the King - Chapter Eight

This posting is a part in the series from the book, A Soldier of the King, by John Slider.  The book may be purchased by following the link in the left column of this blog.

Chapter Eight:  The Road to Herrnhut

November 1758

                   True to his word, Captain Baron von Steuben arranged for Sergeant and Frau Wagner, Henri, and Richard to travel to Herrnhut, a community of Christians located on the estate of Count von Zinsendorf.  Under normal circumstances the forty mile journey eastward could have been completed comfortably in three days on foot or two days on horseback; but these were not normal circumstances.  Henri was recovered from his slight wounds, but Richard’s head still hurt and he tired quickly.  Johann, having had his leg amputated, was still suffering - physically and emotionally - though the visit by his captain had lifted his spirit tremendously.

                   Hilda was a resourceful woman, strong in spirit, mind, and body.  What Baron von Steuben did not provide for their trip, she was able to obtain.  Soon the four were on their way to Herrnhut in a wagon pulled by two strong horses.  Johann and Richard lay in the bed of the wagon which was filled with straw, warm blankets, and provisions.  Hilda and Henri alternated driving the team and sitting in the back of the wagon with the patients.  They moved slowly, stopping often to avoid tiring or jostling Johann and Richard too much and to keep them as comfortable as possible.  The short trip took four days.

                   During those four days, Richard had the opportunity to think about the recent events of his life.  He thought about his mother and father and brother.  Somehow the pain of their deaths had receded - still there, but not always pulling at him.  His bitterness and anger toward God had not eased, but it had simply sunk deeper into him.

                   The battle troubled him as well.  He was shocked that he could perform such violent acts without thinking.  He thought about the suffering and death he had seen.  He could see the dying men and boys.  Two he had killed.  Some he had watched or heard die.  It all troubled him, but he forced it out of his mind whenever he could.

                   He concluded from the events of his short life that God was either apathetic or cruel or nonexistent for such things to happen.  The only thing in the last year which caused him to question his conclusions was the kindness he had received from Johann, Hilda, and Henri, his new family.

                   He thought about his new family and his extended family, Regiment Number 5.  What a strange series of events led to his meeting Henri, now a brother to him, and Johann and Hilda, so much like a father and mother.  He resisted the urge which he had to form any close attachment to these three, but he needed a family and gradually that is what they became to him.

                   On rare occasions Richard would reach into his haversack and look at his keepsakes - the two he still had - his mother’s ring and the comb his brother had made for him.  His father’s knife was lost to him.  The last time he had seen it was in Herr Mueller’s office protruding from the chest of the sailor.  When he looked at the ring and comb, the pain and anger would come to the surface, so he did not look at them often.

---

                   Hilda brought the wagon to a halt.  “There it is,” she said with a voice filled with hope and expectation.  “We’ve made it to Herrnhut!”

                   Richard and Henri gazed toward the eastern horizon.  Johann began to shuffle so he could see.  “Sit still, dear,” Hilda said soothingly. “I’ll turn the wagon so we all can see.”

                   Their eyes followed the road from Dresden down a gradual incline into a valley and up again.  There, built on the rising ground was Herrnhut.  It was a village of about one hundred small cottages.  To the north and south were evergreen woods, to the east gardens and cornfields, and beyond them in the distance high hills.  Through the center of the settlement ran the Zittau-Lobau road which intersected the road they were traveling.

                   They would later be able to identify some of the more significant buildings which they were now seeing.  In the center of town was the Orphan House which contained the apothecary’s shop and a chapel which could seat about seven hundred people.  The simple cottages were arranged neatly and equally along the road that ran north and south.  East of the Orphan House was located Count von Zinzendorf’s cottage, small and plain like the rest, with a communal garden behind.  The four travelers could see people moving about in the village or working in the fields.  The simple scene welcomed them.

                   Hilda turned the wagon and began the descent into the valley.  Henri rode beside her; Richard and Johann remained in the back of the wagon.

            Henri glanced to his right and saw two big green eyes with flecks of gray and blue peering from around a tree close to the road.  As the eyes followed the wagon, the face was revealed - a cute nose with a sprinkle of freckles, a bright friendly smile of full lips and white teeth, and cascades of long golden blonde hair.  For a moment Henri’s eyes met the girl’s.  She giggled and ducked back behind the tree.  Henri was smitten.

A Soldier of the King - Chapter Seven

This posting is a part of a series from the book, A Soldier of the King, by John Slider.  It may be purchased from iUniverse publishing by following the link on the left column of this web log.

Chapter Seven:  A Time to Heal

                   Old Fritz had managed to save Dresden from the Austrians, but he had been surprised at Hochkirch.  The Prussian Army had lost one-third of its soldiers wounded or killed.  One hundred Prussian cannon had been captured or destroyed by the enemy.  Frederick’s resources were so depleted that never again would he mount an offensive campaign, yet the battle at Hochkirch ended the campaign of 1758 with the Prussians in possession of the field.  The outcome of the war was to be settled later.

                   The king wrote in his journal:

Our campaign is over, and there has nothing come of it, on one side or the other, but the loss of a great many worthy people, the misery of a great many poor soldiers crippled forever, the ruin of some provinces, the ravage, pillage, and conflagration of some flourishing towns.  Exploits such as these make humanity shudder.

                   Each army under flags of truce had removed their dead and wounded from the battle field.  The dead were buried, often times where they lay.  The wounded were put into makeshift hospitals under primitive and unsanitary conditions.

                   The Austrians and Hungarians returned to their homes.  What was left of the Prussian Army returned with its wounded to Dresden.  Old Fritz gave orders for the march homeward to winter quarters.

---

                   Richard could see small bright slivers of light.  He could see it for only a moment and then he would plunge into darkness.  Sometimes he would see a face or feel a hand move him, but there was no recognition.

                   When he was much younger he had been out on the sea in a small boat with his father.  A storm had surprised them and while his father quickly piloted their craft back toward shore, Richard had fallen overboard.  He remembered going under several times and reappearing about the surface coughing and gasping before his father could grab him by the back of the shirt and pull him into the boat.  He remembered how scared his father had been - not in the storm, but when they had gotten back home.  His father had put the boy into bed and hugged him hard.  He brushed back Richard’s hair with a shaking hand.  Richard watched his father retreat to a corner of the room.  His father slid down the wall, sat in the corner, and cried silently.  Richard remembered opening his sleepy eyes throughout the night to find his father’s face looking down on him and his father’s hand stroking his face, and his father’s glistening eyes filled with both relief and fear.

                   Richard disappeared into the darkness again and again, but something was pulling him back to the surface.  He struggled to see the face.  “Poppa?”  A hand touched him.  “Momma?”

---

                   Richard saw the small bright sliver of light again.  This time, though, it came into focus.  He saw other smaller slivers.  He blinked.  He saw planks like the deck of a ship, or a ceiling.  That’s it, he thought, I am lying down looking up at a ceiling, or the inside of a roof.

                   He took a deep breath.  What is that smell?  Straw?  Yes, I feel I am lying on straw in an old barn.  What else?  He took another deep breath.  This time he could smell the stench of bodies, and disease, and death.  He began to gag.

                   “Richard?”  A voice startled him.  “Richard?”

                   The boy turned his head toward the voice.  “Richard, are you with us?  Praise God!”

                   “Hilda,” he said weakly, raising his head.  “Where are we?  What happened?  Where are Johann and Henri?  What are you doing here?  Ouch!  My head!”

                   “Slow down.  slow down.”  Hilda said soothingly.  “You’ve been unconscious for three weeks.  Do you remember the battle?”

                   “Yes . . . yes I do!  I was with Johann and Henri!” he said with growing certainty.

                   “You still are.  Johann is right next to you.  And Henri . . .”  She looked around for the other boy.  “Henri, come here!  Richard is awake!”

                   Henri came toward them carrying a large pot.  He carefully weaved in and out of the wounded men who were lying between him and his friends.

                   “Henri has been wonderful.”  explained Hilda.  “He came to get me as soon as he could.  You and Johann were hurt the worst.  Henri just got a few scratches!  I came as quickly as I could.  I can’t leave my three men without a proper nurse.  Since we got here, Henri has been caring for the other men, not just a few, but all of them!  There are over one hundred wounded soldiers in this old barn!”

                   “One hundred and nineteen, Hilda,” Henri corrected.  “So, Richard, how are you feeling?”  Hungry I suppose?”

                   “Yes, I am!”  Richard paused.  “How’s Johann?”

                   Tears began to form in Hilda’s eyes.  “Oh Richard.  Johann has lost a leg.  His left leg was shattered in the explosion and the surgeon removed it.  He had to or he would had died.  We were close to losing him anyway.  He’s sleeping now, but he will be fine.  It will take some time and God’s healing.

                   “God?” said Richard in disgust.  “Hasn’t God done enough damage?”

                   “Richard,” said Hilda softly.  “God did not bring this on Johann.  Johann is . . . was a soldier.  He enlisted and stayed in the army.  Johann made that choice.  Did God start the war?  Did God order the advance?  Did God fire the cannon?  No.  God does not want those things.  They are a part of this sinful world.  But God will heal Johann.  We must pray for Johann as we are praying for you.”

                   Richard laid his head back on the straw and waited for Henri to pour some soup into a cup from the pot he carried.

---

                   Baron von Steuben slowly made his way through the wounded soldiers.  He was an aggressive commander in battle and a strict disciplinarian, as was his sovereign; but, also like King Frederick, he cared for his men.  How could an officer not feel bonded to the brave men who followed his commands in battle and fought beside him?

                   Captain von Steuben had felt a special bond to Sergeant Wagner.  They were close in age -von Steuben was twenty-eight and Wagner was twenty-five.  They had risen together - one an officer and one a soldier.  And though one was noble and the other common, they were kindred spirits.  Both of them knew that this battle would be their last together, and the baron had come to say farewell.

                   Captain von Steuben made his way carefully in the dim light of the barn.  It’s sad, he thought, war brings this destruction of good men.  It is strange that something which calls for many of the highest virtues - courage, honor, loyalty, commitment, sacrifice, hope, faith - should produce such suffering.  I never feel more alive than when I am in battle, yet I am causing death.  I love these men who follow me, yet I sacrifice their lives.  I call upon God to protect me, yet I place myself at risk.  It makes no sense, but I am a soldier, so I accept all that war is without question.  God help me.

                   Captain von Steuben found Johann, Hilda, Richard, and Henri in their corner of the barn.  “Frau Wagner,” he called, “I see you have gathered my three bravest soldiers.  How is it that you are together?  Auch, but of course,  Drummers Schuler and Broussard have been residing with you and Sergeant Wagner.  Very good!  Your family has survived the battle.”

                   As the baron spoke, Henri jumped to attention and Hilda stood and curtsied.  “No, my dear lady,” said von Steuben gallantly, “it is I who should bow to you.”  And he did in a most sweeping and sincere manner.  “You honor us with your presence and your service.  I am even more pleased that I gave Henri that horse to speed him on his way to bring you here.  I understand you have been quite a help to all of our wounded.  Not many would have done as much as you have.[1]  I confess that I have stayed away more than I should have.”

                   “Thank you, sir,” Hilda responded meekly, “I try to do as God would have me.”

                   “Auch, my dear Frau Wagner, you would have made a good soldier, just like your husband.  The doctors have told me how you have kept order in this little . . . ah . . . hospital, shall we say.  It disturbs me how we treat our honorable soldiers who have suffered in battle, but you have given them some dignity.  And Sergeant Wagner, how is the best soldier in the regiment?  We have been through many battles together.  I trust you are in good hands?”

                   “Sir!”  Sergeant Wagner answered as he attempted to come to attention at least in his sitting position.  “I am in very good hands.  I thank Mein Kaptain for asking.”

                   “Good.  Very good . . .”  von Steuben paused while he searched for words.  He looked at Henri and Richard.  “And my two drummers.  Young men, you and the good sergeant rescued the regiment’s honor and saved the day for our king.  His Highness has been informed of your bravery.  Believe me, you shall be rewarded.”

                   There was another awkward silence.  God, I hate these visits, thought von Steuben.  What can I say to make things easier for them?  The captain continued, “Drummer Schuler and Drummer Broussard when you return to the regiment you will be promoted.  I want you in my company as privates.  You will be good soldiers for the king.  I am very proud of you both.”

                   “Thank you, sir!”  Richard shouted as he almost leaped from his straw bedding.

                   “Yes . . . uh . . . I thank the captain,” Henri responded with a subdued voice and downcast eyes.

                   “The regiment shall be leaving for home soon.  The wounded who cannot make the trip are being left here until they can travel.  I have made special arrangements for our three heroes and their nurse.  My family has a friend nearby, a Count von Zinsendorf.  His estate is just east of here.  The count is a very religious man who is known for both his piety and charity.  You will be under his care and protection while you recuperate.  Will that be suitable?”

                   “Oh, yes sir,” said Hilda with obvious relief and excitement.  “You are most gracious!  God has blessed us through your kindness, sir!”  Hilda had indeed heard of Count von Zinzendorf and the community of Christians living on his estate.

                   “Well, I suppose that is all, then.  Dear lady, thank you again for your service to our regiment.  Sergeant Wagner, Private Schuler, Private Broussard,” von Steuben said with emphasis, “I place you under the command of Frau Wagner.  Follow her every order or you shall answer to me!”

                   With that the Baron von Steuben turned and began to walk away.  After three paces he stopped, turned again, and stood looking at his sergeant.  He walked slowly back to the four.  He remained standing for a moment, looking down at Sergeant Wagner.  The two soldiers locked eyes for a moment, something which no subordinate would ever do with a superior in the Prussian Army.  Sergeant Wagner, still sitting at attention, diverted his gaze.  Von Steuben stood, hesitating as if he were about to leap across a wide chasm; then he knelt slowly beside Sergeant Wagner who remained sitting rigidly.

                   The captain looked at Hilda.  Tears began to form in his eyes.  “Frau Wagner, what is your husband’s name?”

                   “Sergeant Wagner,” she responded with a puzzled look.

                   “No.  I mean, what is his name?  What do his friends call him?”

                   “Johann,” she spoke softly as her throat tightened and a knowing smile formed on her lips.

                   The baron leaned over so that he could whisper into his sergeant’s ear.  “I shall miss you, Johann, my friend.”

            Captain von Steuben quickly stood and walked away, averting his face from the soldiers who watched him leave.  Hilda turned to look at her husband.  She saw him still sitting at attention, but she also saw a lone tear traveling slowly down Johann’s cheek, leaving a straight, moist track.

---

[1]In these days nursing wounded soldiers was not considered woman’s work.

A Soldier of the King - Chapter Six

This posting is a part of a series from the book, A Soldier of the King, written by John Slider it is available for purchase through the link in the left column of this web log.

Chapter Six:  Hochkirch - The First Battle

                   “Richard!  Henri!  Come on, boys!”  The voice of Sergeant Wagner awakened both of them from their naps.  They had done very little since arriving in the vicinity of Dresden, Saxony - very little that is, except march back and forth across the same ground.  Sometimes they would see Austrian and Hungarian troops in the distance, but most of the time the generals moved them like pieces on a large chessboard.  Their maneuvers had saved the city of Dresden from the Austro-Hungarian army commanded by Marshall Leopold von Daun, but they had also exhausted the soldiers and depleted their supplies.

                   Finally, in the first week of October they had settled in a camp around Hochkirch - a large hill with a  small chapel and a few huts perched on top.  Hochkirch and another promontory formed a saddle which dominated a valley of low brush and some scattered trees to their front.

                   In a way Richard had enjoyed the marches.  Being out of doors and involved in a great adventure gave him great pleasure.  Along with Henri, however, Richard had become foot worn.  This campaign was their first and they needed a rest from the long fast march that had caused even a few of the veterans to lag behind.

                   Now they were being roused by Johann  from what they thought would be a relaxing nap.  “Come on, boys.  Our work’s not done yet.  We need some soldiers for an important mission and you both have been nominated.”

                   “Important mission?  What is it?”  asked Richard, unable to contain his excitement as he hopped to his feet.  Finally, something exciting and dangerous was going to happen!

                   Johann laughed at Richard’s anticipation.  “Why it is probably the most important mission in the entire army!”

                   “What?  What?”  shouted Richard, growing in curiosity.

                   “Young man, have you seen all those gentlemen in fancy uniforms on horses riding all around us, galloping from place to place, kicking dust in our faces, and pushing us off of the roads?”

                   “The cavalry, you mean?” questioned Richard.

                   “Those are the ones.”

                   “What about them?”  asked a dubious Henri.

                   “Well,” said Johann, “We can’t expect those fine gentlemen to tire themselves or get their uniforms dirty.”

                   “We can’t?” asked Richard.

                   “No, we cannot.  But you know, those horses that those fine gentlemen ride need something to eat, and they need someone to get their food.  Our company has the honor - no, the distinction, even the pleasure - of foraging for food for those horses.  When the captain told me to round up our best men, why, I naturally thought of the two of you.  So, off your feet and get moving.”

                   With a groan both boys followed Sergeant Wagner to the formation of soldiers and away they marched on tired feet to gather oats, barley, hay, and straw.  Actually, Johann had done them a favor, for even though they had to do a lot of walking, they did escape the work of those who remained in camp - digging trenches and chopping small trees and bushes for the abatis.[1]

                   Richard and the other foragers were marched to the front of the army’s defensive positions in the direction of the Austro-Hungarian forces.  Richard could not see the enemy, but he could see clouds of dust in the distance which he knew were the result of the movements of the Austrians.

                   While gathering the feed for the horses, Richard was able to look back toward the camp of his own army.  It was a beautiful sight with white tents arrayed in an orderly fashion, regimental colors snapping in the wind, and countless soldiers scurrying about on foot or horseback.

                   “Sergeant Wagner, when will we fight?” asked Richard.

                   The veteran paused and looked in the direction of both armies.  “Soon.  Maybe too soon.  God help us.”

                   “God help us?  Look at our army!” snapped Richard.  “What difference will God make?”

                   “I think you will find very soon, Richard, that God had better help us,” said the sergeant with a knowing sigh.

                   The foragers completed their work and returned to camp.  For the next two days the soldiers sat, being roused for morning and evening formations and for occasional guard duty.

                   During this time the two battalions of the regiment were reformed from administrative to battle formations.  The ten companies of musketeers became eight divisions of two platoons each.  The grenadier company was taken from the battalion to be combined with others into a grenadier battalion.  Officers were appointed to each unit.  Regimental musicians were assigned to the smaller units, the drummers to be used for signaling.

                   Sergeant Wagner made sure that Richard and Henri were assigned to his division so he could watch over them.  Their commanding officer was a fiery, temperamental twenty-one year old Captain Baron Friedrich Wilhelm Augustin von Steuben.[2]  Johann told the boys that Captain von Steuben did things by the book, but he was fair and looked after his soldiers.

                   Once the regiment had been reformed the soldiers stood at attention.  The regimental colonel-in-chief, Duke Ferdinand von Braunschweig, rode to the front of the formation and faced his soldiers.  Richard was shocked when the old soldier announced in an unwavering voice, “We shall now call upon God.”

                   Removing his hat, the Duke prayed,

Heavenly Father, graciously aid us in the battle to come; but if Thou shouldst not be so disposed, lend not, at least, Thy aid to those scoundrels, the enemy, but passively await the issue.  Amen.[3]

---

                   The day of the inevitable battle finally came.  The Prussian Army was encamped behind their defenses anticipating a frontal assault.  Sergeant Wagner had let Henri and Richard sleep in his tent and they had awakened that morning feeling the cool air and damp ground of October.  Camp fires had been lit, and soldiers all around them were preparing breakfast.

                   Suddenly, skirmishers who were posted in from of the lines returned on the run announcing the approach of the Austrians.  Officers began to shout orders.  Sergeant Wagner grabbed Richard and Henri and soon the boys were beating out “assembly” on their drums.

                   The soldiers responded with well-drilled haste and soon Captain von Steuben was standing before his division - 150 infantrymen in two platoons of three tight ranks.  The sergeants and corporals stood behind the formation with their kurzgewehr.  The division faced right and led by the captain and the musicians marched briskly to their defensive positions in the center of the Prussian line.

                   From their place on the battle line, Richard and the rest of the division could see the enemy forming to the east.  The white coats of the Austrian and Hungarian infantry seemed to reflect the rising sun.  It was a clear October morning and Richard noticed even in a distance the black tricorn hats of the fusiliers and the bearskin caps of the grenadiers of the enemy.  Each Austrian and Hungarian soldier had placed in his headgear a sprig of green foliage called a feldzeichen which was unique to each regiment.  The tradition of wearing the feldzeichen originated in the days before uniforms in order to identify units and had been continued in the Austro-Hungarian army.

                   From his vantage point in the center of the line Richard could view the entire battle developing as if he were watching a play in an amphitheater.  Here and there were puffs of smoke and explosions as the artillery of both sides dueled with one another.  Prussian cavalry galloped back and forth, but the Austrian cavalry was strangely absent.  The infantry of both armies stood still and silent.

                   To his right Richard could hear the crack of musket fire.  The officers turned and assured their men that those were only Austrian skirmishers attempting to draw their attention away from the main assault which would come from the front.

---

                   Richard cocked his head to the right toward the southern flank of the Prussian army.  “Do you hear that?”  he whispered to Henri.

                   “Hear what?” Henri whispered back, “Oh yes, now I do.  It sounds like drummers, very poor drummers.”

                   “Yes, that’s it.  I hear drumming, but clanging now, too.  It doesn’t sound like music, more like pots and pans.  And there is no beat to it.”

                   “That’s right,” said Henri with a puzzled look.  “It seems to be getting louder.  And now what?  Shouting!  What’s happening?”

                   The sound grew progressively stronger.  The boys no longer had to strain to hear it.  Soon they realized it was not music which they had heard, but an attack - the steady increased thump of cannon, the periodic volleys of muskets, the pounding of horses hooves, and the steady clank of metal on metal.  The Austrians were coming, but from which direction?  They were coming not from the front, but from the right flank!

                   Soon the noise on the right grew to an unbelievable intensity.  Richard and Henri could feel the sounds through their feet.  The Austrian cavalry had turned the Prussian right flank and was sweeping down the lines.  Richard could see coming from his right first one, then another wounded man staggering away from the Austrian assault.  Then he saw groups of Prussian soldiers running.  The right flank was collapsing!

                   Captain von Steuben dashed to his horse, leaped on it, and rode a few paces toward the Austrian attack.  The captain then spun his mount so that he was sitting with his back facing the charging enemy.  Soldiers from other Prussian regiments streamed past him.

                   “Sergeant Wagner,” Captain von Steuben calmly barked in his high tenor voice.

                   Johann turned and stood at attention.  “Yes, sir!” he sharply replied.

                   “The division shall form in three ranks on me,”  spoke the captain as if he were on the parade ground.

                   “Yes, sir, captain,” shouted Sergeant Wagner, then turning to the division he yelled, “Well, you men, now’s the time for you to earn you pay.  Fall into division formation now!”

                   It only took a moment for the disciplined soldiers under his command to form three rigid lines in two platoons facing Captain von Steuben.  The drummers and musicians took their place in a little square behind the platoon on the left.  “The division is formed, sir.”  Sergeant Wagner reported.

                   “Very good, sergeant,” said von Steuben as if he were in the barracks discussing the weather.  “And now you may give the order to fix bayonets.”

                   Richard was in awe of the calmness of the captain.  Other Prussian units were now running past him and they could see the approaching Austrian infantry.  Yet Captain von Steuben remained seated on his horse with his back to the advancing enemy.

                   Wagner barked the command, then reported, “Sir, bayonets are fixed.”

                   “Take your position, then, sergeant,” the captain said with an approving smile, then raising his voice he shouted, “The division shall advance!”

                   Sergeant Wagner gave the command to march and the soldiers stepped in unison.  The division began to move steadily forward keeping in step to the drum beat of Richard, Henri, and the others.  Richard and Henri fought the excitement within them that urged them to beat their drums faster.  Captain von Steuben took his post between the two platoons and behind the regimental colors which had been entrusted to his division.  Sergeant Wagner marched behind the platoon on the left.  He and the other sergeants and corporals held their kurzgewehr parallel to the ground at chest height and pushed against the backs of the rear rank to keep the lines straight.

                   By now the advancing Austrians were close enough to fire on von Steuben’s unit.  Richard could see the enemy as they halted and lowered their weapons.  He heard the Austrian officer shout a command and the muskets spewed smoke and fire and little pieces of death.  In front of him Richard could see men drop as they were hit.  Blood and screams filled the air.  The Austrians cheered, then hurried to reload.

                   Through the din Richard heard Captain von Steuben order the division to halt and prepare to fire by ranks.  Each soldier dropped to his right knee.  As if he were singing a solo in church, von Steuben stood straight in his saddle.  “Volley fire, by ranks. First rank, ready.”  He paused as the first rank stood.  “Present.”  The first rank brought its muskets to their right shoulders and sighted down the barrels.  “FIRE!”  Each trigger of the first rank was pulled at the same time.  A line of bullets flew toward the Austrians who were caught in the midst of reloading.

                   “Reload!”  shouted Sergeant Wagner and the first rank dropped to its knees.

                   Captain von Steuben continued, “Second rank, ready, present, FIRE!”

                   Sergeant Wagner continued the dialogue of commands with the captain, “Reload!”

                   “Third rank, ready, present, FIRE!”

                   “Reload!”

                   There are few things more frightening than receiving fire from a well-disciplined Prussian infantry unit.  Each soldier is capable of firing and reloading seven times every minute.  Firing in ranks of three meant that a division could send forty rounds toward the enemy every three seconds.

                   Captain von Steuben was willing to absorb the initial fire of the Austrians in order to catch them helpless with unloaded weapons.  The deadly Prussian fire had its desired effect.  Through the smoke Richard could see the mangled lines and bodies of the Austrians.  He could hear their screams and moans.

                   “Cease fire!”  von Steuben called.   Then he gave the order to charge with bayonets.  Unleashed the division dashed forward, yelling and cursing.  The Austrian infantry broke and began to run in panic.

                   Suddenly artillery fire erupted, plowing through the charging Prussians.  One cannon ball struck Captain von Steuben’s horse, ripping the poor animal in two.  The captain was dazed but unharmed.  “Sergeant Wagner, we must reach that fence ahead and form a defensive line!”

                   Richard and Henri were running forward as best as they could with their drums banging against their legs.  In front of the division Richard could see the regimental colors as they moved forward.  Another Austrian cannon exploded before the charging division, this time showering the advancing Prussians with musket balls, nails, and any scraps of metal that the Austrian gunners could find.  This murderous fire at point blank range mowed through the division.  The freikorporal carrying the regimental colors was decapitated by the shot.  The colors fell!  The division wavered and began to retreat.

                   Sergeant Wagner knew that it meant defeat for the division and the whole army if the Austrian advance could not be stopped.  He sprinted forward toward the enemy, grabbed the fallen regimental flag, and carried it to the fence where the division had to make its stand.  Richard could see his friend standing alone at the fence waving the golden banner high over his head, shouting to his comrades.  Richard did not think, but he acted.  He ran toward Johann, stumbling over the dead and wounded.  Grabbing a musket from the ground and throwing off his drum, he turned to stand with his friend and to face the next wave of Austrian infantry, not knowing if he would live another second.

                   Richard stood, loaded musket in hand, bayonet pointing toward the threatening enemy.  He felt something push him from behind and turned to look.  It was Henri stumbling over his drum.  Henri gave Richard a weak smile and began beating the quick cadence of the call to assembly.

                   By this time Captain von Steuben had found another mount. Waving his saber and cursing his soldiers he turned his division and others who were retreating.  They rushed forward to the fence and arrived just in time to receive the second Austrian assault.  This time the fighting was close and one-on-one.  Richard saw the enraged face of an enemy soldier running toward him in a furious bayonet charge.  He could hear nothing and could see only the charging Austrian, as if looking through a long tunnel.  Richard squeezed the trigger without aiming and saw the man’s face explode, but his body kept running several more strides until it collapsed on the fence in front of Richard.

                   Another Austrian - not much older than Richard - came at him next from a different angle.  Richard turned his weapon and caught the surprised soldier in the chest.  Richard could feel the blade of the bayonet scraping ribs as it entered his attacker.  The young soldier dropped his musket and grabbed Richard with both hands.  The Austrian boy looked down at the bayonet which had entered his once vibrant body and then looked at Richard with wide eyes and open mouth, as if he wished to speak.

                   Richard had no time to be sick or feel ashamed, for as the young man slipped to the ground, the air around Richard was lit with a blinding light.  He thought as he was lifted into the air that there must have been an explosion, but he had not heard a sound.  There was no sense of falling, just floating.  There was a peace to it.  He could see Henri and Johann floating with him.

            Richard kept floating . . . floating . . . floating.  He saw his mother and his father and his brother.  He felt so relieved and comfortable.  He saw his old room and his bed.  He was in his soft bed and he was so tired.  It was getting darker and he wanted to sleep.

---

[1]An abatis is a line of shrubs, bushes, and small trees placed in front of trenches as an obstacle to infantry.

[2]Baron von Steuben joined the regiment when he was commissioned in 1747 at seventeen years of age.

[3]This prayer was actually spoken by another colonel-in-chief in the service of Frederick the Great before his regiment prior to a different battle.

A Soldier of the King - Chapter Five

This posting is a continuation of a book by John Slider, A Soldier of the King.  It is available for purchase by following the link in the left column of this blog.

Chapter Five:  Off to War

October 1758

                   Regiment Number 5 had spent the spring and summer of 1758 in Magdeburg.  Richard, Henri, and Sergeant Wagner grew accustomed to the good cooking of Frau Wagner.  The days were peaceful and healing for the boys.  Their months at the cozy house which had now become their home was interrupted only by occasional reviews and training maneuvers.

                   Hilda Wagner had become both a mother and older sister to Richard and Henri.  She was a beautiful woman of twenty-five, full of energy and happiness.  She was just as tall as Richard and slightly taller than Henri.  Her blue eyes were bright and her smile infectious.  Hilda’s light brown hair had streaks of golden blonde which seemed to catch the sunlight.  She was energetic and playful, but also able to discipline the boys on the rare occasion when they needed to be.  She had a deep faith in God which came out in everything she did.  She loved the boys as if they were her own family - as indeed they were becoming.

                   Richard had been deeply scarred by the events of the last year - the deaths of his brother, his mother, and his father; his experiences at the orphanage; and life on the run.  Henri had shared similar experiences with Richard, but through his faith his wounds were healing.  During those quiet days of spring and summer Henri had grown closer to God under the patient instruction and prayer of Hilda.  Richard, though he began to relax and enjoy the new home the Wagners provided for him, still had a deep anger against God and blamed God for all of the hurt of the past year.

                   “Why did God let this happen to me?” Richard would ask Henri.

                   Henri could only say, “All of us are in the hands of the God who loves us.”

                   “Love?” Richard would retort, “How can you say God loves you?  He let the same things happen to you!”

                   Henri would not and could not argue.  He did not have an answer.  Richard did not want to be convinced of God’s love.  He just wanted to be angry; and even during those peaceful days there was just underneath the surface a raging hatred of God.

                   The quiet times did not last.  Prussia was locked in a worldwide conflict called the Seven Years War that pitted Great Britain and Prussia against Austria, France, Russia, Saxony, Sweden, and later Spain.  In America France and Great Britain had been fighting since 1754.  Hostilities had commenced in Europe in 1756 when King Frederick II of Prussia, known as Frederick the Great by historians and Old Fritz by his soldiers, launched a surprise offensive through Saxony against the Austro-Hungarian Empire.  Frederick had hoped for a quick end to the war, but after the initial offensive Frederick found himself fighting a lengthy defensive war for survival.

                   In August 1758 the Russian Army invaded East Prussia and Frederick moved his army to meet this threat.  The two armies collided at Zorndorf.  After a bloody battle the defeated Russians limped homeward.  Old Fritz immediately turned his regiments from Zorndorf on August 25 to counter an Austrian threat in the south.

                   The highly disciplined Prussian Army responded to the urgent call of their king.  Frederick drove his army toward Dresden at an incredible pace, averaging nineteen miles a day.

                   Regiment Number 5 mobilized for war.  Sergeant Wagner came home one day.  Standing in the doorway he called to his wife, “Hilda, its time for me to earn my pay again.”

                   Hilda Wagner had that familiar twist in her stomach.  She was a soldier’s wife and she knew that the only way that her husband could earn his pay was to go to war.  She could not hide her tears and she ran and held her husband close.  “I will pray for you and the boys,” she whispered through her constricted throat.

                   Johann had mixed feelings about going to war.  As a professional soldier he always felt the excitement and anticipation of coming battles.  He looked forward to performing tasks for real which he had practiced more than he could remember.  He had been in battle before and could remember both the exhilaration and the horror.

                   But Johann felt different about leaving for battle ever since he had met and married Hilda.  There was a sense of loss within him every time he left her.  He worried about her when he was gone, and he worried what would happen to her if he died or was wounded.  He ached to be with her, sitting before the fire at night in their home.

                   Hilda had changed him.  He no longer thought of warfare as romantic.  She had said nothing to him, but he could read the fear and sadness on her face.  Because of her he longed for peace, but he was a soldier and he would do his duty.

                   “It is God’s will,” Henri said, reflecting his Huguenot upbringing.  “And if it is God’s will, we shall return.”      

                   Richard was excited.  He looked forward to the new experience.  He had take to soldiering - at least in garrison - and his confidence in his own abilities had grown.  “We’ll take care of ourselves,” Richard retorted.  “We’re the best regiment in the best army.”

---

                   Sergeant Wagner, Richard, and Henri marched southward with the regiment the next day.  What a scene!  They marched through the streets of Magdeburg behind their regimental colors - the regimentsfahne.  The regiment’s freikorporal carried the brilliant banner - a field of golden yellow with four scarlet flames bursting from the white center surrounded by gold metallic leaves and topped with a golden crown.  In the center a black falcon carried a sword.  Above the falcon was a scroll bearing the words “Pro Gloria et Patria.”[1]

                   Behind the regimentsfahne, marched the regimental band dressed in their ornate uniforms.  Richard, Henri, and the other drummers beat a proud and steady pace.  The fifers’ shrill notes and the oboists’ mellow sounds played the familiar tunes of the regiment.  The hearts of the new recruits surged with excitement and pride.  The hardened veterans marched with determination.  Every button and bayonet gleamed in the sun.  The high peaked caps of the grenadiers and the kurzgewehr - ten foot long spikes carried by sergeants and corporals - bounced above the column.

                   The ten companies of Regiment Number 5 marched out of Magdeburg.  Behind them came the quartermasters and the supply train.  Behind them came the  camp followers - some families and wives, merchants and their wagons of goods, and those who would cater to the lower habits of some of the soldiers.  At home were most of the wives and children whose duty was to wait and worry.

                   By the middle of September Regiment Number 5 had joined the throng marching southeastward toward Dresden.  The cavalry units had fanned out in front and on each flank of the marching infantry.  The artillery clattered behind.

                   By itself the infantry made a colorful parade as it wound through the countryside behind Old Fritz.  The various colors of the infantry regiments were knit together by the common Prussian blue coats.  Directly behind the king marched the second and third battalions of Regiment Number 15 (Garde) with red facings on their coats and yellow gold pants.  The king himself was the colonel-in-chief of this proud regiment.  Their distinctive white and silver banner marked their presence at the head of the column.

                   Next wearing red facings on blue coats and yellow gold pants came Regiment Number 1 behind its orange regimental flag.  Regiment Number 5 was next in line followed by Regiment Number 6 (Garde Grenadiers) wearing buff pants and their high peaked golden grenadier caps, their white banner snapping in the breeze.

                   The black flag of Regiment Number 8 came next, its soldiers wearing red facings on their coats.  Regiment Number 13, known as “Thunder and Lightning,” trooped behind its black and crimson colors attired in white pants and white facings on their coats.  Regiment Number 18, with its blue flag, added colorful pink facings and white pants to the scene.  They were followed by Regiment Number 19 with silver lace on their coats, buff pants, and a dark red banner.

                   Regiment Number 20 had marched out of Magdeburg with Richard’s unit.  This sister regiment carried a dark green flag and wore white pants and red facings on the coat.

                   The column was completed by Regiments Number 23, 26, and 39.  Their white, yellow green, and golden yellow flags, and the scarlet, white, and lemon yellow facings on their coats completed the rainbow of colors.

                   Perhaps the most dour looking uniform was worn by the king himself.  Old Fritz’s usual uniform was a version of the one worn by Regiment Number 15 with the lapels of his coat fastened across his body because he tended to feel the cold.  The only decoration he wore was a silver aiguillette at the right and the star of the Order of the Black Eagle on the left breast.  Black pants and black cavalry boots coming above the knee completed his somber uniform.  His overall appearance was shabby and his clothes were stained with snuff.  The king was careless in his dress, but he dressed in this way in order to emphasize his connection with the ordinary soldiers.  He wore a silver sash around his waist to hide the imperfections in his figure.

            Richard marched confidently beside Henri, keeping time for the regiment.  Occasionally he would get a glimpse of the king himself, and Richard would lift his head higher.  He was proud to be a part of such a disciplined and formidable army.  Old Fritz was tough, but he had a reputation as a brilliant general.  When the army stopped along the way during the march Richard would look back over the throng of infantry behind him.  Surely they were unstoppable.

---

[1]For Glory and Country

A Soldier of the King - Chapter Four

The following series is from A Soldier of the King written by John Slider.  You may order the book by following the link in the left column of this blog.

Chapter Four:  Enlistment

April 1758

                   It was midafternoon.  The spring sun was warm.  Richard and Henri decided that they would walk into the city  They pulled their little boat to shore well before they reached Magdeburg.  Collecting their meager belongings they abandoned the craft, crossing several newly plowed fields separated by stone and wooden fences.  Eventually they joined the road which led into Magdeburg from the north.

                   With each step the young boys gradually entered the noise and activity of the city.  It was the largest city which Richard had ever seen!  Their excitement grew as they took in each new sight.

                   Magdeburg was an old city with a great history.  It was founded by Charlemagne as a trading village in 850.  In 962 the city became the seat of a powerful Catholic archbishopric and grew in prominence.

                   Located only forty miles from Martin Luther’s Wittenburg, Magdeburg became Protestant in 1524.  During the Thirty Years War, in 1631, the city was sacked and burned by Catholic forces.  Much of the population was massacred in this assault.  In 1680 Magedeburg passed into Prussian control.

                   As the boys followed the streets along the river they saw boats and barges filled with goods entering and exiting the busy trading center.  They stared at growing industries which produced textiles, refined sugar, and forged machinery.  As they turned toward the center of town they passed schools, government buildings, and banks.  Dominating the entire city were the tall spires of two churches - Magdeburg Cathedral, which was started in 1209, and the Church of Our Lady on which construction began in 1070.

                   “We should be able to find some work and a place to live here,” said Richard confidently.  “Let’s get something to eat first.”

                   The boys retraced their steps through the center of town and toward the river.  Soon they located a modest tavern, Der Alt Eber, and paused in front.

                   Henri hesitated to enter.  “Do you think they will let us eat in there?  What if someone recognizes us?” he asked.

                   “Well, they can recognize us out here and starving as well as they can in there and eating!  Besides, we’re far from Rostock and I’m hungry.  Let’s go in.”  Richard pushed the door open and led the way.  The room was dark, but they could see several tables and chairs scattered throughout the room in no particular plan.  A fire place dominated the room and the blazing logs gave the tavern its warmth.

                   The tavern was not busy at the moment.  Two rough-looking customers sat near a window looking out over the docks.  A large man, the innkeeper, was standing talking with them and turned when the boys entered.  He looked over his shoulder, turned back to the two men, muttered something, and laughed as he jerked his thumb at the boys.  In mock formality he straightened his clothing, brushed back his hair, draped a dirty cloth over his arm, and marched over to the youngsters.

                   “May I be of service to you gentlemen?” he drawled, showing the effect of the alcohol he had consumed through the day.

                   “Sir,” said Richard looking up with less courage than he had a few seconds earlier.  “We’d like to get something to eat.”

                   “Can you pay?” asked the man.

                   “Oh, yes, sir,” responded Richard.

                   “Very well.  Sit over there and I’ll bring you something.”  The man turned and winked at the two other customers who in turn elbowed each other and suppressed their laughs.

                   Soon the man reappeared with a loaf of bread, some cheese, and a bit of cold beef.  “Here you go, gentlemen,” he said in a mocking voice.  “May I get you anything else?”

                   “Could we have something to drink,” ventured Richard.

                   The man left again and returned with two mugs of stale beer.  The boys dug into the food.  The bread was cold and hard; the cheese and beef smelled old; and the beer tasted bitter and flat.  They were hungry, though, and they did their best to fill their stomachs.

                   While they were eating a soldier entered the tavern.  He was an imposing man at around six feet tall with a narrow face and piercing blue eyes. He was powerful, yet slender.  He walked smoothly and with purpose, his head held high.

                   His uniform showed that he was a sergeant of Regiment Number 5 of the Prussian Army.  His coat was of Prussian blue with buff lapels and cuffs, tails extending below the knee, decorated with gold metallic lace and a bright red lining.  The coat was worn over a white shirt with a laced front and a buff waist coat.  His breeches were also buff colored.  His gaiters, worn over black shoes, were black for winter dress, buttoned up the outside of the leg, extending above the knee, and gathered with a garter below the knee.

                   On his head he wore a black tricorn hat with a gold rim and black and white pompoms at the corners.  His hair was rolled on the sides - three on the right and four on the left according to regulations to allow for the hat to be angled toward the right.  The hairstyle terminated in a very long braided strand of hair running down his back and bound with black tape.

                   His uniform was completed by a calfskin knapsack suspended over his right shoulder.  In it he carried his personal equipment and spare clothing.  Over the same shoulder was hung a linen haversack and a tin canteen.  On his left hip he carried the standard infantry saber.  This saber was twenty-five inches long and slightly curved with a brass hilt.  The saber was carried in a brown leather scabbard.  Suspended from a button on his lapel was his non-commissioned officer’s cane - a metal tipped, polished stick of about thirty inches.  The sergeant’s hands were covered with buff-colored gloves.

                   “How goes the war, Sergeant?”  asked the tavern owner.

                   “Auch.  Not any action during the winter, but after the spring thaw Old Fritz will have us out campaigning.  About all we are doing now is recruiting and staying warm.  Give me a beer, will you?”  The soldier tossed a coin toward the innkeeper.

                   Richard and Henri had been staring at the soldier with wide eyes.  They had never seen such a fine uniform.  The soldier was impressive.  Seeing the boys looking at him, he winked.  They quickly looked down at their food and continued eating in silence.

                   The sergeant quietly sipped his drink as the boys concluded their meal.  Richard and Henri stood.  Henri remained beside the table while Richard walked slowly to the innkeeper.  “Sir, how much do we owe you?”

                   “Well, now boy, let me calculate that,” said the man as he scratched the bristles on his chin.  “Let’s make it simple.  How much do you have?”

                   Without thinking, Richard held out his hand with all of their coins.

                   “That won’t be enough to cover it,” said the innkeeper raising his voice so all could hear.  He grabbed the coins from unsuspecting Richard.  “I guess you two will have to work off the rest, hey?”

                   “That’s more than enough,” cried Richard.  “You’re trying to cheat us!  The food wasn’t worth nearly that much.  Give us back our money!”

                   “Oh, a couple of deadbeats, huh?  I’m going to get the police!”

                   “No!  Not the police!”  shouted Henri.  “Let’s run, Richard!”  The boys both turned and headed for the front door.  The innkeeper blocked their way.  They retreated toward the back of the tavern, but as they did the two other men cut them off.

                   “No police, eh?”  shouted the innkeeper.  “Looks like we might have caught us two criminals!  Get ‘em men.”

                   Richard and Henri panicked and began running all about the room trying to avoid the clutches of the three men.  Eventually the boys ran past the sergeant who was slouched in a chair sipping his beer.  The sergeant let the boys pass, but as the innkeeper ran by, the sergeant stuck his leg in his path and tripped the large man.  He fell hard, landing on a chair and breaking it on his was to the floor.  The sergeant jumped up and threw a table in the path of the other two men causing them to stumble and fall.

                   “Come on, boys!” urged the sergeant and the three of them sprinted down the street.  Soon they ducked into an alley to catch their breaths.  It was a while before anyone could speak.

                   Henri was the first to say something.  “Thank you, sir.  My name is Henri and this is Richard.”

                   “Don’t mention it, Henri.  Nice to meet you.  I am Sergeant Johann Wagner of Regiment Number 5, “Alt Braunschweig,” of th Army of His Majesty King Frederick the Great - Old Fritz,” said the soldier.  “I saw that man was trying to cheat you.  It was fun to get into a fight again anyway.”

                   “Yes, thanks,” said Richard.  “But the man has all of our money.  We’ll have to find jobs real soon.”

                   “A job, you say?”  Where are your parents?  Let’s go report this to the police.” said the sergeant.

                   “No!  No police!  We’re . . . uh . . . on our own, so to speak,” said Richard.  “No family.”

                   “No family, you say?  And you need a job?  And it seems that you’re not too anxious to talk to the police.”  The soldier was thinking.  “Well, I’ve got a job for you.  A place to sleep.  All your meals.  Clothes provided.  What do you think?”

                   “It sounds good,” said Richard.  “What’s the trick?”

                   “No trick, lad.  My regiment needs some drummers.  I think you two would do just fine.  What do you think?”

                   “Sounds fine to me,” said Richard immediately.  “We’ve got no where else to go.  What do you say, Henri?”

                   “Can we stay together?”  Henri asked the sergeant.

                   “Sure you can, boys.  Side by side.  Step by step.”

                   “Count us in!”  Richard said with a grin.

                   “God, help us,”  murmured Henri.

                   “There’s just one problem,” Richard slowly admitted.  “We don’t know how to play the drums.”

                   “You don’t!” cried Sergeant Wagner in mock disbelieve.  “I knew there was a trick!”  Then with laughter he added, “Don’t worry.  The army has a way of teaching you what it wants you to know.”

---

                   Richard and Henri adapted easily to life in Regiment Number 5 which, along with Regiments Number 3 and Number 20, was garrisoned in Magdeburg and drew its recruits from the city.  Both boys had received their uniforms and equipment.  Musicians had the same uniforms as the rank-and-file privates except with the addition of elaborate lace decorations and sleeve chevrons on the coat.  Also, drummers wore a leather apron to protect their pants legs from wear.  Musicians and drummers carried the same equipment in the field as did the soldiers as well as their instruments.  Richard loved his uniform and was constantly polishing the hilt of his infantry saber and the brass of his drum.

                   King Frederick, Old Fritz as the soldiers affectionately called him, believed in iron discipline for his army.  He was very concerned for their welfare, yet he enforced the most exacting discipline of any army in Europe.  He believed that his army was composed of idle and inactive men.  In order to prevent desertion, mutiny, and insubordination, the King encourage his officers and non-commissioned officers to be harsh so that they would be feared more than the enemy.  Extreme punishments included beatings from sergeants and corporals, branding, running the gauntlet (which could result in death), and execution.

                   The discipline of Regiment Number 5 was hard, but fair, and neither of the boys suffered as they had at the Rostock Boys Orphanage.  They learned their military duties and their instruments quickly under the tutelage of the regimental drum major.  Sergeant Wagner looked in on them occasionally and helped them adjust to their new world.  In all, the boys felt safe and they had a place to sleep and food to eat.

---

                   When the boys had completed their initial training, Sergeant Wagner and his wife, Hilda, invited the boys to live with them.  Wagner was tough - he had to be to rise to the rank of sergeant; but he had a kind spirit, which he tried to keep hidden from his subordinates.  Wagner, however, had taken a liking to the young boys and his wife, who was a devout Christian, suggested that the childless couple provide the two a home.  The four of them quickly formed a family.  Frau Wagner created for the boys a loving environment and the experiences of the orphanage began to recede in their memories.  Henri took to the daily Bible readings and religious instruction from Frau Wagner.  Henri was quick to tell his story, while Richard was slow to talk about his past.  Richard was polite, but resisted any talk of God.

                   “Be patient with him, Hilda,” Johann said to his wife as if she needed reminding.  “Richard has had a lot of hurt in a short time.”

                   “I know, Johann,” she sighed.  “But he is so young.  My heart aches for him.”

                   “Well,” he said with affection, “If anyone can put God back in someone it is you, my dear.  You have so much of God in you, it just spills out on everyone else, even one tough old sergeant.”

                   While Hilda Wagner tended to the spiritual instruction of the boys, Sergeant Wagner taught them the ins and outs of the Prussian Army and Regiment Number 5.  In peacetime native Prussians served only as needed, being called to active duty for summer reviews, annual maneuvers, and actual campaigning.  Prussian soldiers were free to remain at home and pursue civilian occupations.  Foreigners, who made up over one-third of the army, remained on active duty along with other essential staff and those who were receiving their initial training.  Sergeant Wagner was a part of this essential cadre.

                   The Colonel-in-Chief of Regiment Number 5 was Duke Ferdinand von Braunschweig.  Regiments were named after their colonel-in-chief, and since there was another von Braunschweig who was the colonel-in-chief of another regiment, Regiment Number 5 was called “Alte Braunschweig” because Duke Ferdinand was the older of the two.

                   Regiments in the Prussian Army of Frederick the Great were principally administrative units.  They were the personal property of their colonels-in-chief who did not actually command the regiment in action but often served as generals in command of larger units.  Even the King had a regiment of which he was the colonel-in-chief.  Every colonel-in-chief received a stipend from the crown to support his regiment and could spend over or under that amount depending on whether or not he wished to make a profit from the regiment.  The regimental kommandant, usually a colonel, actually commanded the regiment and saw to is day-to-day activities in garrison.

                   A regiment consisted of two battalions each commanded by a major.  Each battalion had five musketeer (infantry) companies and one grenadier (heavy infantry) company each commanded by a captain (hauptmann).  Each company had two lieutenants (leutnant), one ensign (fanrich), sixteen sergeants and corporals (feldwebel and korporal), an officer candidate (freikorporal), and 100 to 120 rank-and-file.  The regimental band at full strength possessed thirty-eight drummers, six fifers, six oboists, and a drum major.  The total regimental strength was set at about 2,000.

                   In combat each battalion was reorganized into eight platoons of musketeers.  Grenadier companies were detached to form grenadier battalions.

                   Sergeant Wagner tried to prepare Richard and Henri for the brutality of war, both the wearing drudgery of marches and the horrors of battle.  Wagner was a ten year veteran and was with the regiment at the battles of Lobsitz in 1756 and Rossbach and Leuthen in 1757.

                   Richard and Henri took in all of these lessons from their mentor even though they could not grasp what the sergeant tried to express about war.

---

                   One evening after Richard and Henri had gone to bed, Hilda and Johann sat before the flickering fire.  Hilda paused from reading her Bible and observed, “Johann, those boys are good for us, just like our own; and we are good for them.  I pray that God will continue to bless them.”

                   “Well,” Johann sighed as he drew on his pipe, “I don’t see that God has done much for either of them.”

            “Dear husband,” she whispered with a smile, “God has given them to us.”

A Soldier of the King - Chapter Three

The following series is from A Soldier of the King written by John Slider.  You may order the book by following the link in the left column of this blog.

Chapter Three:  Escape

March 1758

                   Henri and Richard looked at each other in shock.  Richard was the first to speak, “We’ve got to escape tonight!  Right now!”

                   “Are you sure its the best thing?” wondered Henri outloud.

                   “What else can we do?  Stay here and be taken away, probably separated, or run away and at least stay together.  If you won’t go I’ll take my chances by myself.”

                   “Alright,” agreed Henri reluctantly.  “I guess we have no choice.  How do we get out?”

                   “Let’s get dressed and sneak down to the kitchen and get some food.  Then I’m going to pay a visit to Herr Mueller’s desk.  He has my things!”

                   It was just after midnight, and all the other boys were sound asleep, exhausted from the day’s work.  No one stirred as Henri and Richard quietly put on their clothes and tiptoed out of the room.  They hurried silently down the stairs and into the kitchen.  Hans was there, waiting.  “Good!  Ya read my note!  Are ya gonna run away?”  The boys both nodded their heads affirmatively.  “You’ll need some food.  Don’t have much ta give ya.  Here’s some bread an’ cheese.”  Hans handed the boys the items, wrapped as best as he could with whatever he had.  He opened the back door to let them out, but Richard stopped.

                   “There’s something I have to do.  Herr Mueller has my things.  I’m going to get them.”  Richard said through clenched teeth, his stubborn anger showing.

                   Hans and Henri tried to convince Richard of the danger of sneaking into Mueller’s quarters, but their protests went unheeded.  “Very well, Richard, I’ll go with you,” Henri finally said in resignation.  “God, help us.”

                   Hans remained in the kitchen while the two boys moved down the hallway to Herr Mueller’s office.  The door was shut.  They paused to listen.  All was silent within the man’s rooms.  Richard slowly turned the knob, opening the door a crack.  All was dark and still in the room which served as Mueller’s office.  Henri was reluctant to enter, but Richard moved quickly across the room and placed his ear on the door to Mueller’s bedroom.  Hearing nothing, Richard assumed that the man was asleep and he motioned to Henri that all was safe.

                   Both boys met at Mueller’s desk.  Richard pulled open the middle drawer and immediately saw the items he was seeking - the comb from his brother, his mother’s ring, and the carpenter’s knife which had belonged to his father.  Slowly and silently he reached for them.

                   Suddenly the boys heard a door swing open on rusty hinges and crash against a wall, but it was not the door which led to Mueller’s bedroom.  It was the front door of the orphanage!  The two startled boys froze as they heard two pairs of feet in the hallway outside the office.  A gruff voice which they did not recognize spoke, “Mueller, you cheat.  The last boy you sold me was worthless.  He died two weeks into our voyage.  I want my money back now!”

                   “I don’t have your money,” argued the familiar voice of Herr Mueller.  “But I’ll give you two boys now for nothing.  Come into my office.  Just don’t shoot me!”

                   Richard made a grab for his possessions as he and Henri moved behind the closed full-length curtains behind the desk.  Richard was able to grab the comb and ring, but in his haste he had left the knife in the drawer.

                   The two boys peered through the curtains.  Their hearts were pounding, though for the moment they were relatively safe.  Behind the curtains was a wide window which went from the floor to the ceiling and looked out on the front of the orphanage.  Between the curtains and the window was enough space for two boys to stand without being noticed.  They watched through small holes in the curtains and listened as the scene in the office unfolded.

                   The two men had entered the room leaving the door standing open.  “I want my money!” shouted the stranger.  The boys identified him as a sailor from his clothing.  He held a pistol on Mueller.

                   “Wait a minute!” cried Mueller as he moved around the desk.  “I told you I don’t have your money, but I have a ring I took from a new boy.  You can have the ring and the two boys for nothing!  Just don’t shoot me!”

                   Mueller reached for the drawer of his desk.  He saw that the drawer was open.  Richard had failed to close it!

                   “Were is it!” gasped Mueller.  “It was right here!.  Someone has stolen it!”

                   “Liar!” the sailor scoffed.  “I should know that I’ll get nothing from you, you cheat.  But you’ll get something from me - a bullet!”

                   Slowly the sailor raised his pistol and began to smile.  “I’m sure no one will miss you, Mueller.”  His finger gradually tightened on the trigger.  He enjoyed watching Mueller whimper and plead with him.

                   Quietly from behind the sailor Hans appeared in the doorway holding a large frying pan from the kitchen.  Hans made eye contact with Mueller as he stepped behind the sailor and forcefully brought the pan down.  At the same time Mueller reached into the open drawer of the desk and grasped the first weapon he could find.  It was the carpenter’s knife that had belonged to Richard’s father.

                   Hans aimed his blow for the man’s head, but at the last moment the sailor had heard Hans step behind him and had begun to turn.  The pan struck the man on the side of the head and his right shoulder.  The gun exploded, but the misdirected bullet flew past its target and punched a hole in the curtains behind Mueller.  There was a muffled cry.  Hans jumped on the back of the sailor as Mueller moved around the desk with his weapon.  The three were locked in a violent struggle.  Hans had one arm around the neck of the sailor who swung his spent pistol at Mueller with one hand and with the other tried to fend off the knife.  Suddenly Mueller closed with the man.  Blocking the descent of the pistol with his left arm, Mueller stepped forward and plunged his knife into the sailor’s heart.  He was dead before he hit the ground; the knife protruding from his chest.  Mueller slumped into a nearby chair breathing heavily from the exertion.

                   “Herr Mueller,” screamed Hans in terror.  “You’ve killed ‘im.”

                   “Brilliant, Hans,” wheezed Mueller as he began to recover.  “now the trick is to invent a good story to tell the police.  We must find someone to blame.  Let me see, should I tell the police that you killed him, Hans?”

                   “Herr Mueller, what’re ya sayin’!  I didn’t kill ‘im.  I was tryin’ to help ya!”

                   “No.  I suppose that I should not blame you,” sneered Mueller.  “After all, you saved my life, though I’m sure that you did not do it out of any loyalty or love for me.  Why did you help me, Hans?  I know you do not care for me.”

                   Hans looked at the floor.  “Herr Mueller,” said Hans.  “Where’d I go if ya died?  Dis is all I know.”

                   “Ah.  Very well, Hans.  I like that.  I respect that.  You helped me kill the man to protect your livelihood.”

                   “But sir, I didn’t kill ‘im.  You did!”

                   “Hans, you are as guilty as I am.  The police will not listen to you.  You and I need to think of a story to tell them.  We need to blame someone else.”  Mueller stroked his chin as he thought.  He rose and began to pace, still thinking.  “Hans, it intrigues me.  The open drawer, the missing ring, the cry when the bullet entered the curtains.  What does it mean?”  Mueller paused in front of the curtains.  “It means, I think that we have a thief!”  Mueller pulled the curtains open, revealing Richard and Henri.  “Two thieves!  Schuler and Broussard!  Grab them Hans!”

                   The two boys darted from the window avoiding Mueller’s grasp.  Hans stood frozen, having forgotten for the moment about the two boys in all of the excitement.  Richard and Henri ran toward the door, but in the room’s dim light they both tripped over the body of the dead sailor.  Mueller was able to grab them both and lift them to their feet.

                   “Did I say thieves?  I was wrong.  These are our murderers!  Its perfect,” said Mueller with a wicked chuckle.  Throwing the boys against the wall he laughed, “Look!  Schuller even has a wound from the bullet that was meant for me.”  Mueller pointed at Richard.  The bullet had entered the curtains and grazed Richard’s right cheek.  There was no serious damage, but the wound burned and there would be a long, wide scar.

                   Mueller grabbed Richard and Henri.  “Into the closet with the two of you.  Then I’ll go get the police.  Its a shame, Schuler, you would have gained me a lot from the press gang; but you and your friend here will be of a greater service to me now.  You will keep me from hanging.”

                   Mueller dragged the two boys down the hallway.  When they struggled, he struck them both across the face, knocking Henri unconscious and causing Richard’s wound to bleed even more.  With the two boys subdued Mueller unlocked the closet and shoved them into the small space.  Locking the door, Mueller instructed Hans, “This is the only way Hans.  Keep them in there.  I’m going to get the police.”

                   Inside the closet Richard slumped down to the floor to await the police.  His cheek burned from  the wound and the slap from Herr Mueller. He could taste the blood in his mouth.  Richard felt responsible for them getting caught.  Henri began to stir and soon looked over at Richard, “Where are we?” he asked weakly.

                   “We’re in the closet.  Mueller’s gone for the police.  We’re in big trouble, Henri, and its my fault.  I’m sorry.  If I had just left and not gone for my things we would have been free.”

                   Henri started to speak, but he stopped when he heard a key turning in the lock on the closet door.  The door opened slowly and there was Hans looking in on them.

                   “Quick, boys, we ain’t got much time.  Dat pig’ll be back with the police any moment.  Let’s get into the kitchen and I’ll wash that wound.  Here’s your food.  Richard, do ya still have da comb and ring?”  Richard felt in his pocket and nodded his head.  “Good, let’s get goin’,” said Hans rapidly.  “You’ll have ta leave da knife.”

                   “Why are you helping us?  Won’t Mueller punish you?” asked Henri as they hurried to the kitchen.

                   “I reckon he’ll beat me a bit.  But dat’s nuthin’ new.  I ain’t doin’ dat much anyway.  He’ll still blame ya boys fur da murder.  After all Richard, its yer knife still stickin’ in da sailor back dere an’ yer ring an’ comb are missin’.  Dere’s nuhin’ ta do but run.  Maybe you’ll ‘ave a chance.  I just can’t see ya two hangin’ fur a murder ya didn’t do.  I’ll just tell Herr Mueller an’ da police dat I opened da closet ta fix yer wound an’ ya escaped.”

                   The three heard the front door open and Mueller’s voice, “There’s the body, officers.  The boys are in the back.  This way!”

                   “Quick now.  You two get goin’ fast.  When ya git outta da yard I’m gonna start yellin’ dat ya escaped.”

                   “Thanks, Hans, we won’t ever forget you.  God will bless you,” whispered Henri.

                   “Yeh, thanks,” repeated Richard.  “Let’s go!”

                   Richard and Henri ran to the back fence.  As they jumped to the top they could hear Hans shouting, “Herr Mueller, dey escaped!  Dey escaped!”

---

                   It was still dark when Richard and Henri jumped the fence and ran from the orphanage.  They had no direction in mind, nor did they have a plan, in spite of hours devoted to dreaming of this moment.  They knew they had to get far away as quickly as possible.  Neither of the boys were familiar with the town so they simply ran as far and as fast as they could.   When they could go no farther they found an old shed near the Warnow River which flowed through Rostock and into Breitling Bay.  They ate some of the cheese and bread and tried to sleep until daylight.  The night was cold and the shed provided little shelter, but they were able to sleep for a while before the sun arose.

                   Richard was the first to awaken.  He shook Henri and soon both boys were eating the last of their provisions.  Richard peaked out of the shed.  To his horror he saw their foot prints in the snow!  “Henri, we’ve got to go now.  They’ll be able to track us in the snow.”

                   The two boys left the shed and began following the Warnow upstream.  Fortunately, they were able to catch rides from local farmers, so they covered thirty miles southwest to Schweriner See, a large lake, in three days.  They slept in barns and either begged or stole the little food they needed.  “We’re turning into regular criminals,” joked Richard.  Henri agreed, but with sadness.

                   Outside the town of Shwerin, Richard and Henri were able to find a farmer who allowed them to do odd jobs in exchange for food, a place to sleep in his barn, and a few coins.  The farmer and his wife were kind and they invited them to stay longer, but the boys knew that they had to keep on the move.

                   With the coins the boys purchased a some food and two old blankets.  Scouring the shore of the river Richard found an old sailing boat, which he stole.  The boys continued their travels traveling first southward on the Ludwigsluster Kanal, then westward on the Sude River, and then southward again on the great Elbe River.  They used the sail when they could, and rowed when they had to do so.  By all means they avoided towns as much as possible.  In the evenings they would pull up on shore and find an isolated barn for sleeping.  They would try to find odd jobs in exchange for food.

                   The journey was hard and cold, but both boys began to relax as they put more distance between themselves and Rostock and the clutches of Herr Mueller.  They wondered often about Hans and talked of repaying his kindness some time.  Henri talked a lot about his family and his faith in God, but Richard kept quiet about both.

                   Gradually as they travelled the weather became warmer.  Now spring was upon them.  Richard had navigated their little craft with expertise.  They had traveled almost 250 miles from Rostock.  Before them was the great city of Magdeburg.

A Soldier of the King - Chapter Two

The following series is from A Soldier of the King written by John Slider.  You may order the book by following the link in the left column of this blog.

Chapter Two:  The Warning

                   Herr Mueller and his latest acquisition arrived at the Rostock Boys Orphanage after the evening meal.  Mueller had not suffered from any missed meals, however.  He took several opportunities to refresh himself at inns and taverns along the way - stopping either to dine or simply to restore his spirits with a pint or two of beer.  Mueller dined well on the coins from Richard’s bag.

                   As for Richard, he had remained chained in the back of the sled covered by the canvas and gagged in case some curious eyes glanced at the sled.  Richard faired a little better than the horses that pulled the sled.  Mueller had tossed him a piece of bread after one of their stops.

                   The Rostock Boys Orphanage was a two story, dirty red brick structure on the outskirts of town.  The darkness of the early evening could not hide its foreboding edifice.  Several windows were cracked and some missing panes were covered with wax paper, or boards, or even blankets in two cases.  Some were simply left uncovered.  The front yard was simply  packed dirt covered by snow and ice and void of any vegetation except for one lone tree which was leafless in the winter.  The wrought iron fence and locked gate completed the oppressive appearance of the exterior.

                   An attendant came running down the steps and to the gate when Mueller rang the bell which was suspended on the fence beside the gate.  “Good ev’nin’, Herr Mueller,”[1]  the attendant said bowing low.  Mueller cracked the whip and urged the horses on without a word to the man who locked the gate and then ran gingerly over the ice and snow behind the sled.

                   “Hans, this is Schuler.  Put him with the older boys on the second floor,” grunted Mueller as he climbed down from the sled.  “And get this ice off the steps.  Do you want me to break my neck?”

                   “Yes, sir!” responded Hans bowing even lower.  “I mean, no sir!  Dat is, yes sir and no sir, Herr Mueller!”

                   “Humpf!” sneered Mueller as he carefully climbed the steps and entered his quarters, slamming the door behind him.  He would spend the rest of the night drinking himself to sleep in the warmth of his room.

                   Hans took the keys from the front seat of the sled and stepping to the back unlocked the shackles which held the boy.  “Right now, Schuler,” Hans said as he worked.  “You’re here with us now.  Come with me.  I’ll git ya settled.  Do ya ‘ave any belongin’s?”

                   “He took them,” Richard chattered.  He was half-frozen.

                   “Dat pig!” hissed the man glancing over his shoulder; and then with resignation, “Let’s git inside.”

                   Richard looked at Hans as he helped the boy up the steps and into the building.  There was no light outside and the few candles inside cast haunting shadows, but Richard was able to gain a good impression of the man beside him.

                   Hans was a walking skeleton, thin and bony.  His body carried no evidence of having a solid meal in days.  His lips were cracked, his nose was long and slender, and his eyes bulged from their sockets in a frightening stare.  His hair was long, stringy, dirty, and unkempt.  His clothes were worn and torn.  He walked bent over and with a limp in his right leg.  He looked to be about sixty-years-old, but Richard would later discover that Hans was only twenty-five!

                   Richard at first leaned on Hans in order to walk, but as the circulation returned to his legs, the boy found himself supporting the frail attendant.  Hans guided the boy past the main stairs in the entrance way and toward the back of the orphanage where the kitchen was located.

                   Hans lit some candles and brought them closer to Richard in order to view the boy better.  Richard stifled a gasp as the man’s face came closer to his.  The frail man’s countenance was laced with scars which gave evidence of violent encounters.  Part of his left ear was missing.  A long red line began in front of his right ear and traced down his cheek and onto his neck.  A large purple knot stood out on his forehead.

                   “Oh, don’t let me frighten ya, boy,” Hans said in a soothing tone and with a smile that revealed several chipped and missing teeth.  “Dese are my badges.  Been here all my life, or at least all I can remember, under Herr Mueller’s care.”  He said the last word with sarcasm.  “You should see da marks on my back!  This badge is the most recent.  Ouch!”  He winced as he touched the bump on his forehead.  “Now lessee what damage ya got.”

                   “Why does he do that?”  asked Richard while Hans pumped some water into a bucket.   He dipped an old rag in the water and examined Richard’s face.

                   “’Cause he wants ta do it.”

                   “Then why don’t you leave?”

                   “Where’d I go, boy?  Dis is da end of da line.  Dere’s only two ways outta here.  Ya die, or ya wait fur da press gangs to come and git ya.”

                   Richard knew very well what a press gang was.  It was a group of thugs hired by a ship’s captain when he was low on crew.  They would go to the bars and either drug men or knock them out or wait until they were too drunk to know and drag them away to the ship.  The unsuspecting “recruits” would awaken with the ship already out to sea and facing a hard indoctrination on a long voyage.

                   “Herr Mueller saves ‘em a lotta trouble,” continued Hans.  “They just come callin’ on ‘im an’ for a small fee, Mueller gives ‘em da boys dey need.  You see dere ain’t  many boys yer age here - older ‘n twelve or so.  Dat’s ‘cause Herr Mueller’s sold ‘em off.  Dey’re either sailin’ in da navy or crewin’ a merchant ship on da high seas . . . or at da bottom of da ocean.”

                   “Why didn’t they get you?”

                   “Dat’s simple.  I ain’t no good to ‘em.  I look sickly and weak, an’ I am.  Dat saved me from da gangs.  Plus Mueller needs me.  But I’m trapped here.  I got no where else ta go.”

                   “I know what you mean,” sighed Richard.

                   “Now, here you go, Schuler.  Lemme heat up some soup, broth’s more like it, and den I’ll take ya to yer bed.”

---

                   “Psst!”

                   Richard jumped when he heard the sound.  It came from the cot next to him on his left.

                   Hans had led him up the creaky steps and down the second floor hallway carrying a lone candle to light the way.  Richard shuffled along behind.  Hans directed him into a room with perhaps a dozen boys about Richard’s age.

                   Richard noticed that everyone became still and silent as the two entered the room.  Some of the boys started to whimper.  “They think we’re the press gang comin’ for ‘em,” Hans explained.

                   Richard finally was able to stretch out on a narrow, musty cot.  He stared at the ceiling.

                   “Psst!”

                   “Who is it?” whispered Richard.

                   “My name is Henri Broussard,” said a voice in the darkness.  “What’s your name?”

                   “Richard.  Richard Schuler.”

                   “Where is your home, Richard?”

                   “I’m from Warnemunde, but I guess my home is here now.”

                   “Well, Richard, welcome home.”

                   Richard spent the rest of the night staring at the darkness above him.  Finally, just before dawn he fell asleep.

---

                   The next morning Richard was rudely awakened by Hans banging on a pot.  Henri Broussard, the voice from last night, rolled out of his cot and shook Richard’s shoulder.  “Let’s go, Richard.  If we’re late we don’t get anything,” coaxed Henri.

                   Richard rolled out of his cot.  He had not even removed his shoes the night before, so he waited on Henri to dress, and then jogged out of the room and down the stairs, pushed by the crowd of boys around him.  The steps were crowded with boys elbowing their way to the from of the line.  About thirty boys from ages five to fifteen found places behind the benches placed before long tables.  there was a lot of jabbering and pushing until Herr Mueller entered the dining area.

                   “Quiet!  Sit!” Mueller ordered.  The boys seated themselves on the benches and waited in silence.  “Hans!  Where is my breakfast?”

                   Hans hustled from the kitchen with a tray filled with food - eggs and sausages, biscuits and pastry, and a large pitcher of ale.  He placed all of the items on the table where Herr Mueller sat alone.

                   Richard was hungry.  He had not eaten a decent meal since yesterday’s breakfast at Pastor Schmidt’s house.  The food which Hans brought for Mueller started Richard’s stomach to churning and raised his hopes.

                   Hans disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a large steaming pot filled with a watery gray substance and a pitcher of water.  Two of the bigger boys fetched wooden spoons and bowls and pewter mugs from a cupboard.  In rapid succession the boys were given a bowl of  soupy porridge and a mug of water.  Soon every youngster was hungrily devouring the meager rations.

                   “This is it,” whispered Henri.  Richard stared at the contents of his bowl with a questioning look.  “Better make the most of it,” continued Henri.

                   When the boys finished, they sat quietly as Herr Mueller consumed the meal before him.  Without warning Mueller spoke, “Hans will have your work assignments for today.  Schuler, report to me after breakfast.  Now off with you all.”

                   The boys exited the dining area quietly and with bowed heads, but as soon as they rounded the corner out of sight of Herr Mueller each one bolted outside to splash water from the pump on their face and to visit the outdoor privy as needed.  Afterward everyone reported to Hans, except Richard who went straight to Herr Mueller’s quarters.

                   Richard timidly knocked on the door and slowly opened it when he heard Herr Mueller’s voice, “Enter!”

                   “You’re slow, Schuler,” chastised Mueller.  “Don’t let it happen again.”

                   “Yes, sir,” Richard responded meekly.

                   For the next fifteen minutes Richard uneasily stood in front of Mueller’s desk as the oily man delineated the rules of the Rostock Boys Orphanage for Richard.  The rules could have been summarized simply:  Obey what Herr Mueller says and keep your mouth shut.

                   At the conclusion of the introduction to life in the orphanage, Mueller asked curtly, “Do you have any questions?”  It was obvious that he expected none.

                   Richard hesitated but spoke anyway.  “Yes, sir.  Where my things -  the ring, the comb, the knife - and my money?”

                   “Schuler,” said Mueller as he leaned back in his chair bringing his hands together in a gesture of mimicking deep though about his response.  “Let me just say that we here at the orphanage are family.  We use all of our assets for the good of the whole.  Your trinkets I have right here in my possession.”  He pulled back the top drawer of his desk.  “And they shall remain in my possession until I have decided how to employ them for the good of our little family.”

                   “That’s not right,”  Richard protested.  “They belong to me.”

                   “Schuler, you must learn to be more cooperative,” sneered Mueller.  Then raising his voice he shouted, “Hans!”  Hans quickly limped into the room.  “Hans, put this boy in our Guest Room for a week.  He needs to think about his attitude.”

                   “Yes, Herr Mueller,” said Hans with a hint of resignation.

                   Hans left the room with Richard and said to him as they walked toward the back of the building, “Richard, dis’ll be over soon.  Ya gotta remember dat yer not in yer home.  You’re under da control of Herr Mueller.  Don’t fret, though.  I’ll look in on ya and sneak some extra food to ya.”

                   With that they reached the end of the corridor and Hans opened the door to a small storage closet under the stairway.  The closet smelled of mildew and perspiration.  Richard gagged.  “Go in now, boy,” said Hans sadly.

                   Richard stepped inside and examined his quarters for the next week.  He turned and looked blankly and Hans who shook his head and tried to smile encouragement as he slowly shut the door.  Richard, his back to the wall, slid slowly down toward the floor until he could wrap his arms around his legs.  He rested his head on his knees and began his sojourn in the closet.

---

                   Richard survived his week of punishment in the closet thanks to Hans and Henri.  During the next month Richard grew to loathe the cruelties of Herr Mueller and to appreciate the kindness of Hans in the midst of the oppressive environment.  Most of all he became good friends with Henri.  They had a lot in common.

                   Henri came from a religious family, as did Richard.  His four grandparents were Huguenots, French Calvinists, who had left France after 1685 during the reign of King Louis XIV for the safety of Protestant Prussia.  Henri’s father and mother had met in Prussia, but had kept as much of their French culture and Huguenot practices as  they could.  Henri was an only child.  His father had died fighting in the Prussian Army.  His mother had passed away just a year ago, and that is when Henri had been sent to the orphanage.

                   Richard and Henri became constant companions, though they were complete opposites.  Henri was fourteen, a year older, but shorter and not as strong as Richard.  Where Richard was serious and withdrawn, in part from his recent experiences, Henri often found humor in all situations, even at the orphanage.  Henri would reach out to the other boys, giving them encouragement or trying to bring some happiness into their lives.  Unlike Richard, Henri’s faith had grown stronger through his hardships.  Henri prayed every night and at every meal.  His conversation was laced with references to God and Jesus.

                   Henri had big dark eyes, black hair, and a thin frame.  He enjoyed drawing, and when Hans would smuggle him some chalk, Henri would find a brick or a board or a wall to draw bright and happy pictures.  He was quite talented.

                   Henri, because of his age, and Richard because of his size and strength, realized that they would soon be taken by the press gang.  Both boys fretted over their future and the thought of being separated from each other.

                   A plan began to develop in Richard’s mind, though it was not really a plan, but more of a hope.  The hope was to escape the orphanage.  The two boys began plotting their escape and the adventures they would have every moment they were together.  They knew they had to get out somehow.  They did not know when or how, but they promised each other that they would go together.

                   Then one evening at supper, Hans slipped a scrap of paper to Henri.  At first Henri thought it was another piece of chalk wrapped in paper, so he stuffed it into his pants pocket.

                   When Henri and Richard got to their cots with the other boys, Henri reached into his pocket and pulled out the paper.  He discovered that there was no chalk wrapped in the scrap.  He wondered what it could be.

                   “Richard,” Henri whispered as they all climbed wearily into their cots.  “Hans gave me something tonight, but I don’t know what it is.  I thought it was chalk, but its just a scrap piece of paper.”

                   “What could it be?” wondered Richard.

                   “I don’t know.  Maybe its some paper for my drawings.”

                   “I suppose,” said Richard yawning and turning over to sleep.

                   “Shut up, will ya!”  shouted one of the other lads in the room.  “I’m trying to get some sleep here!”

                   Henri took the hint.  Both he and Richard closed their eyes and tried to go to sleep.  After a few moments, though, Richard jumped out of his cot and leaned close to Henri.  Getting right in his ear, Richard said, “Maybe its a note.”

                   Henri jumped, being roused from his sleep.  “Who?  What?  What did you say?”  he asked drowsily.

                   “I said, ‘maybe its a note.’”

                   “Let me see,” Henri responded now fully awake and interested.  “Now where did I put that piece of paper?  Oh here it is.”

                   Richard followed Henri to the window.  The moon was bright and they were just able to read the terse message which Hans had scrawled:

Henri,

Press gang tonight!  Coming for you and Richard!  Get out now!  Good luck.

Hans

---

[1]The attempt here is to give this character a rough, unpolished dialect.

A Soldier of the King - Chapter One

The following series is from A Soldier of the King written by John Slider.  You may order the book by following the link in the left column of this blog.

Chapter One:  Nowhere to Go

February 1758

                   Young Richard Schuler’s eyes filled with tears as he looked out across the frozen rocky coastline to the icy Baltic Sea.  The cold water slapped against the uneven shore as it had for centuries, making the rocks smooth and polished.  The morning sun was just peeking over the eastern horizon casting a pink hue.  The brisk cold wind stung Richard’s moist eyes and his tear-streaked cheeks.  It had been a cold winter and the spring thaw was a long way away.

                   Thirteen-year-old Richard stood stooped, his body shaken by sobs and blown back and forth by gusts of wind.  He was taller than most boys his age - standing a little over five feet seven inches.  He had bright blue eyes which were the highlight of his handsome face.  He loved the outdoors and his skin was either tan in the summer or red from the wind and cold in the winter.  Year-round his nose and cheeks were sprinkled with a few freckles.  He was dressed like a sailor, though he was not one.  He wore blue sailor’s jacket and trousers.  His unruly hair was hidden under a sailor’s cap.  He and his mother used to laugh about his hair, looking at it in the mirror every morning.

                   “It looks like the seagulls made a nest on your head last night,” she would say as the two of them laughed together.

                   Richard was also stronger than most boys his age.  He could out run and out swim all of the boys and girls in his class at school.  His legs were long and strong.  His shoulders and arms already indicated that he would become a strong man.

                   Richard had a talent for organizing people.  The children at school looked to him for leadership and he was always organizing them for contests.  He had a sharp mind and the ability to learn quickly.  He preferred history and mathematics.

                   How many times had he and his father stood at this very spot together, often with his older brother, Franz, watching the fishing boats and ships leave and return.  They would usually stand in silence gazing toward the horizon, simply feeling good about being together.  Then his father would say that it was time to go, and they would race down the streets to their home in the small village of Warnemunde in Mecklenberg, a province of Prussia.  His mother would be waiting with dinner in their small, but comfortable, home.  Now all of that was gone.

                   Warnemunde was a small fishing village on the coast of the Baltic Sea at the entrance to the narrow bay that formed the harbor for the city of Rostock.  His father had been a talented shipwright and could point with pride to the boats and ships which he had helped construct as they negotiated the entrance of the Breitling Bay past Warnemunde toward Rostock.

                   Richard and Franz had begun to learn their father’s trade as was expected of them.  Franz, who was two years older, seemed to be a natural woodworker.  He could recognize the best pieces and had a good craftsman’s touch.  Richard did not take to carpentry as quickly, but he enjoyed being with his father and brother and treasured the times they spent together in the shop or looking over the sea.

                   Memories continued to crash on his mind, one on top of another, as Richard stood watching the waves break against the smooth black rocks on the beach.  He did not remember whole events as much as he did the images and feelings of being loved and being safe and being home.

                   It was gone now.  He knew this would be the last time he could cry for his family.  He had to bury his feelings just as he had buried first his brother, then his mother, and finally his father just two days ago.

                   Cholera had swept through Warnemunde starting in December 1757.  Every family he knew had been touched by the disease.  Some recovered, but many, too many, died.

                   Franz died on Christmas.  His mother and father had prayed to God for him to recover, but he had not.  His death seemed to draw the three survivors closer to one another as they grieved over Franz.

                   Then in quick succession his mother and father fell ill.  He did all that a thirteen-year-old boy could do to nurse them back to health.  His mother died at the end of January.  In her fever she called to Franz, “I’m coming, my son!  I’m coming!”

                   Richard’s father died a week later.  Between the bouts of delirium from the fever, he would call Richard to him and try to prepare him for being alone.

                   “We love you, Richard,”  he would say.  “It won’t be easy for you, but you must go on.  We will wait for you and we will be together with Jesus in heaven.  Remember, we love you and God loves you, Richard.”

                   Richard wanted to believe that God loved him.  He wanted to be with his family again.  He wanted God to make things right for him, but something inside him had died with his family, and as Pastor Schmidt said the final words over the grave of his father, Richard knew that he was finished with God.  He had buried his faith alongside his brother, his mother, and his father.

                   It had snowed that day at the graveside.  It was a cold February, destined to be even colder now.

                   “It is God’s will,” said Pastor Schmidt with forced confidence.  He looked away from Richard.  The pastor had watched his parish dwindle from the disease and from the constant wars of King Frederick II.  His own son, Emil, lay at home stricken with cholera.  “Yes, yes,” he said as if to convince himself.  “It must be God’s will.”

                   “If it is God’s will,” whispered young Richard, “then God is wrong.”  He spoke fearfully, expecting to be struck at that moment by the pastor or by God.

                   Instead Schmidt turned to the boy.  Tears welled up in the cleric’s eyes.  “Richard,” the pastor spoke, “I don’t know how to make sense of what has happened to you, what has happened to all of us.  I can’t even explain it to myself.  Your father and mother and brother were good people.  They were my friends.  All I can say is what I believe.  God loves us.  God loves you.  Even that I do not understand, but now days whenever I come to these graves or whenever I see my sick son at home, the only place I have to go is to God’s love.”

                   “Then I have no where to go,” said the boy.

                   That was yesterday.  Richard remembered those words as he wiped his last tears from his cheeks.  The snow had started to fall in big flakes and he knew that he had to get moving.  He was leaving Warnemunde.  Pastor Schmidt had made arrangements for the orphanage in Rostock to take him.  His father had asked the pastor to do that.  They were coming for him today.

                   Richard turned his back on the familiar sea and began walking away from the beach.  With his first steps he felt the coins in the small pouch tied around his neck bounce against his chest and he checked the knot on the bundle that carried all of his possessions - an extra shirt and pair of socks, a comb his brother had made him for his thirteenth birthday, a ring his mother had worn, and a small carpenter’s knife from his father’s shop.  Tucked under his arm was the big family Bible in which his father had recorded the deaths of his brother and mother and where he himself had written the date of his father’s death and his father’s name.  He had learned to read with this old Bible.  He was not going to take it with him.

                   Richard had spent the night alone in his family’s home, collecting the things he was carrying as he wandered around the small house all night.  He would leave the Bible and some papers his father had given him with Pastor Schmidt.  He had opened the Bible only once since his father had closed it for the last time and that was to record the last death.  He vowed not to open it again.

                   Richard did not fully understand what the papers were - the deed to his family’s home and his father’s shop.  He knew only that they were important and his father had told him to give them to the pastor.  The Bible meant nothing to him now.  It only reminded him of the past and he did not want to be reminded.  Pastor Schmidt said that he would take care of things for him until he came of age.

                   Richard began walking slowly through the streets of Warnemunde toward the church and Pastor Schmidt’s home.  The wind was blowing hard at his back, but he shuffled along at a slow pace, as if the wind were the only thing keeping him moving.

---

                   Richard’s eyes had dried by the time he turned the corner and saw the church.  A fresh snow blew past him in the cold wind.  The town was beginning to stir and he had passed the homes of friends from school and saw them with their families getting ready for another day’s classes.  He had avoided going past his own house.

                   He carefully climbed the snowy steps of the pastor’s house and stood looking at the front door.  What should he do?  Should he run away?  Where would he go?

                   He stared at the front door thinking through his options.  Suddenly the door swung open and there stood Frau Schmidt, the pastor’s wife.

                   “Auch, Richard!”  she screamed.  “I thought I heard a noise on the stoop, but I wasn’t certain.  Come in.  Come in , dear boy.  It’s too cold to be standing outside!”

                   “Thank you, Frau Schmidt,” Richard said almost inaudibly as he stepped into the warmth of the front room of the little house.  “I’m sorry if I scared you.  How’s Emil doing?”

                   “God has blessed us, Richard,” she said without really thinking.  “Emil’s fever broke last night.  He’s through the worst of it.  He’ll be back to his old self in no time.”

                   Richard was saved from having to think of a response by the noisy entry of Pastor Schmidt.  “Good morning, Richard,” the pastor said uncomfortably, trying to balance the joy he felt over his son’s recovery and his sensitivity Richard’s losses.  “Come in, come in.  Have some breakfast.  Your new friend from the orphanage is coming in a little while, but we have some time to eat a good breakfast and visit.”

                   As Richard solemnly removed his outer clothing, the pastor continued, “You know, my boy, this stay at the orphanage won’t be too bad for you.  We will come visit you often.  It will be for just a couple of years until you can come back home and resume your father’s business.”

                   “Just think,” said Frau Schmidt, “You will get to live in a big city with boys like you who are . . . uh . . . I mean boys who don’t . . . oh . . .”

                   “Boys who are alone and have nowhere to go,” mumbled Richard completing her thought.

                   “Oh Richard, that’s not what I meant to say,” said the pastor’s wife with a heavy voice.  “I don’t know what to say.  This is not fair for you.  Things are happening so fast in your life.  We will miss you.”

                   “But we’ll come to see you often and we will pray for you always,” Pastor Schmidt inserted, trying to comfort the boy.  “Now let’s get that breakfast we promised you.”

                   Richard shuffled into the kitchen.  The smell of the food reminded him that he was hungry, so he sat down at the table.  Frau Schmidt placed a plate full of biscuits, eggs, and sausages and a big mug of fresh milk in front of him.

                   He paused out of habit for the blessing.  The pastor took a deep breath, bowed his head, and prayed, “Lord, bless our food, but more important bless Richard.  Stay with him Lord, and give him your peace.  Amen.”

                   After an awkward silence, Frau Schmidt patted him on the head and said softly, “Now go ahead and eat.  I’m going to look in on Emil.”

---

                   The knock on the door came too soon it seemed and it startled Richard and the Schmidts.  Richard had given the Bible and all of the papers to the Schmidts.  Then the three of them had sat and waited, all the time the Schmidts trying their best to encourage and comfort the boy.  Richard said very little.  They assured Richard that they would care for everything until he came of age and returned from the orphanage.

                   Pastor Schmidt moved slowly out of the kitchen and into the front room.  Richard heard the pastor open the door and then a loud voice said, “Good morning.  Pastor Schmidt?  I am Heinrich Mueller from the Rostock Orphanage.  I have come for Richard Schuller.”

                   “Yes, Herr Mueller,” the pastor responded.  “The boy is in the kitchen finishing his breakfast.  I will bring him.”

                   “No reason to interrupt the boy’s meal.  It is a long cold ride back to Rostock.  I wouldn’t want him to go hungry on the way.”  Mueller paused.  Frau Schmidt had joined her husband while Richard remained in the kitchen.  “It would be a shame to send anyone out on a day like today with an empty stomach.”  Mueller looked to see if his not so subtle hints were registering with the Schmidts.  He continued, “I myself know how hungry one gets on the trip.”  He glanced from Pastor Schmidt to Frau Schmidt.  “I  was unable to get anything to sustain me while I made the journey here this morning, though I suppose I will be able to find some kind soul on the way back.  My, what a wonderful smell is coming from your kitchen, Frau Schmidt.”

                   “Oh,” she said suddenly finally understanding Muellers suggestions.  “Won’t you, that is . . . ah . . . please come a join us, sir.”

                   “Why thank you kind lady.  I suppose I can manage a little something before we start back.”

                   Richard stood as he heard three pairs of feet coming toward the kitchen.  He then saw Herr Heinrich Mueller of the Rostock Orphanage for the first time.  It was not a good first impression.

                   Mueller was a short, round man with a plump face.  His head was completely hairless except for his bushy eyebrows and an enormous mustache that completely hid his mouth.  His eyes appeared as slits in his puffy face which was a pasty white color with the exception of his large nose, which - Richard would learn later - was red from the constant consumption of alcohol.  His clothes looked uncomfortably tight on the man - as if he had grown larger since he had put them on.  Mueller attempted an air of fashion and wealth with his clothing, but the worn spots and food stains suggested that his affluence was all pretense.  He smelled of alcohol and mildew.  The only impressive characteristic which Mueller possessed was his baritone voice which dominated the room when he spoke.

                   With a pudgy hand protruding from a lace cuff, Herr Mueller patted Richard on the head.  “So this is the unfortunate boy, pastor.  So sad, so sad.  Still, pastor, God’s ways are mysterious.  I’m sure the lad will do fine with us.  Just fine.  Well then, Frau Schmidt, what’s the source of that marvelous smell.”

                   For the next thirty minutes Herr Mueller remained silent except for an occasional grunt as he consumed everything placed before him.  It seemed that he did not even pause to breathe until he had consumed everything worth consuming - which indeed, had been everything, since he refused nothing.  Throughout Mueller’s exhibition Pastor and Frau Schmidt would exchange nervous glances and shrugs.  Richard stood in the corner of the kitchen watching the man.

                   Finally Mueller leaned back and drained the last bit of ale.  “Its time to go.  Grab your things, boy.”  Without any other word Mueller stomped directly out the front door.

                   Richard followed at a distance.  Pastor and Frau Schmidt stood at the front door of their home as Richard climbed into the back of  the horse drawn sled.  “Good bye, Richard.  We will come to see you soon,” said the pastor.  “God be with you,” Frau Schmidt managed to say through her handkerchief.

                   Slowly the sled pulled away.  “I don’t like that man,” whispered Frau Schmidt.  “maybe we should have kept Richard with us.”

                   “Now dear, we discussed that.  With Emil sick we couldn’t keep Richard with us.  Heavens!  The whole town is sick!  It’s best that he get away.  I promise you though, when Emil gets on his feet we’ll go visit Richard and if he is not doing well, then we’ll bring him back with us.  Now let’s check on our boy and pray God to protect Richard.”

---

                   Richard sat looking out over the back of the sled.  He watched as the Schmidts disappeared from his view in the falling snow.  He settled in to make himself as warm as possible for the trip to Rostock.

                   Mueller turned from his seat in the front of the sled, looked down at the boy, and glanced back toward the Schmidts.  Seeing that they were out of sight, he pulled the reigns to slow the pair of horses and turned a corner.

                   Once around the corner, Mueller brought the sled to a stop.  He got down and went to the back of the sled where Richard was huddled.  He spoke his first words to Richard.  “Come here,” he growled and grabbed Richard by the front of his jacket.

                   Surprised, Richard offered no resistance as Mueller dragged him to the back of the sled.  Lifting a piece of canvas Mueller produced two sets of shackles.  With the speed of practiced hands, Mueller placed one set of fetters around the boy’s ankles and another set around his wrists.  Mueller slapped Richard once across the face when he tried to struggle out of the restraints.  Then displaying a pistol which had been hidden under his coat, the man looked at the youngster and said, “You cause me any problems, I’ll shoot you.  Now give me that bag of goodies you brought.”  He snatched Richard’s cloth sack.  “What’s around your neck?”  Mueller barked as he grabbed hold of the bag of coins tied around Richard’s neck and gave a strong jerk, snapping the string.  “Well, well.  We have a donation to our charity.”

            Richard slowly rolled to a corner of the sled.  Still surprised, he stared at Herr Mueller as the man went through Richard’s meager belongings.  He felt the cold, rusted iron of the shackles scraping his wrists and ankles.  Mueller took his seat.  The whip cracked and the sled lurched forward.