Life of a Soldier

Noël Lucky Chevalier was a soldier serving in Napoleons arm in the 1800s. This is his journey through several campaigns he fought.
This is my entry for the Historical Fiction Contest


15. September 14th, 1812

On the 8th we fought. In the morning that Austrians were near driving us crazy with their chanting, saying: “’tis the will of God, ‘tis the will of God.” It was starting to get on my nerves.

                “They’re preparing to die,” Pierre came up to me and reminded me. He patted my back. “On second thoughts, we’re preparing to win.”

                I had smiled sadly at him. “But because we win doesn’t mean we don’t die.” Pierre hadn’t had time to reply to me for someone else was calling him for advice.

                At 6:30 AM sharp, the battle began. I’ll never ever forget this battle, the others maybe, but not this one. I remember vividly in terror within minutes of the battle that we hadn’t had a good strategic plan! Looking around at the others gave me some idea of what to do, which was to go about and shoot everyone in sight.

                I gently nudged my horse, Petra, to go forward. My heart was racing. As I went deeper into the battle, I saw some of my friends lying on the grass, dead, alongside with their enemies.  It shook me to the bone that something so gruesome was unfolding right before my eyes.

                It was truly wild, everyone was acting like animals. I was ashamed of them for a second, but then I started to join in with them, making me just as bad.

                At around 3 in the afternoon the fighting stopped. I was very relieved because I was exhausted, beyond exhaustion.

                I’m still surprised I slept that night. My tent felt empty that night, one of my roommates never returned. Not only was my tent empty, but everywhere it reeked of blood, dead bodies and even sickness. But despite all of that, I fell asleep of soon as my head hit the pillow. My roommate and I were so weary that we didn’t even do devotions.

                Well, that morning when I woke up, there was this huge commotion outside. I quickly pulled on my pants and a shirt and hurried outside. The enemy had left! We had won!

                As soon as we counted the dead, and helped the injured, we hurried off to Moscow, which is where I am now.

                It’s in the middle of night, and neither I nor my roommate can sleep. The city of Moscow is burning up. There are plenty of rumors going around, but the most believable one is that the Russians set this fire.

                It’s getting dangerous. As I was walking around today, I walked past Napoleon’s tent.

                “If the Russians plan anything against us, it’ll become too dangerous to stay here!” I heard him exclaim.

                “We worked hard to win Moscow,” one of his attendants pointed out.

                “Then if we have to, we’ll fight hard to win it back!” Napoleon nearly shouted. He sounded angry, I’ve no clue why. But I couldn’t stay to listen any longer, or I would for sure have been caught.

                The fires are getting closer and closer; Napoleon is going around and telling some of the tents that are the closest to move a little back, behind the camp.

                I need to go; I’m being advised to leave right now.


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