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The Battle of Waterloo
The blissful moonlight shone upon the Duke of Wellington like the limelight of a sinister stage. All his life he had waited for this moment, but he never knew when it would come. To him, it felt like an eternity since he had seen his wife, but now he was wondering whether he was to ever see her again. Their parting was of sweet sorrow, yet despite their distance from each other; their love was stronger than ever before, giving them the burning ache of desire to see each other again to blaze harder than ever before. Nevertheless, the Duke had a duty to perform. The fate of the world rested upon on his shoulders. He could not fail. He should not fail. He would not fail. He had worked so long and so hard, he could not afford to fail never mind he could not fail. On the other hand, neither could Napoleon…
He too had been destined to do great things and to be great. He too had worked so long and so hard to be where he was in the world as an emperor. But until this day he had never been challenged by as a big an opponent. But the emotions of Napoleon were different to the Duke’s. Napoleon was feeling anger, hatred and retribution. Already this challenge had cost him his reputation, for the reason that the people of France had started to question whether he was strong-willed enough to win this single battle, but he had worked hard enough, he had worked long enough to win this battle, hadn’t he? By all the odds, surely he would not fail, he should not fail. He could not fail. But the question in his mind was… had he done enough to be triumphant?
The darkening evening trundled on, becoming colder with every breath and step the soldiers took. For some, the conditions under which they were experiencing were the last they ever felt on this harsh and cruel world we call Earth. Over half of the British soldiers assembled on that battlefield, were planning to fight for King and Country, whilst the rest were planning to fight for those they truly loved, hoping to see them soon, as long as they survived the forthcoming storm of French soldiers. They could not fail. They should not fail. They would not fail.
The French were prepared for anything. That’s what they were trained to do. Adapt to every situation and use the element of surprise to catch the enemy with its trousers down, but how after all of that training, could they defeat an enemy as formidable as this? Some of the French soldiers had only just been old enough to join the army, never mind had any true battle experience, and even more importantly, how could they win? However, they could not fail.
Both forces started to regimentally march towards each other. Emotions, swept through the two armies like a silk cloud soar across the sky; hate, fear, love, anger even happiness due to the reality that those who had suffered so much, were soon to go to a better place away from the monstrosities of the world.
Their bayonets were fixed on their rifles. Their rifles were primed and ready. Their horses were prepared to charge and their souls were primed to fight for what was right.
Both armies had stopped, leaving a 100m gap between them. Both took their last orders. Both did what was necessary to defeat the other, although one hadn’t done enough, but which one?
This was it…
All that was left was the battle, the fight for love and life. Both armies feared each other. Both hated each other. Both despised each other in every way possible. So much pain and suffering had been caused by the tyranny of France and its enemies, that there was no room for mercy left on the field of battle. But soon there would be room for it when all of bodies left on the field after the battle would become the soul-departed.
The evening was now night with moonlight beaming down amongst the thunder clouds along with the rain that drenched the soldiers. Napoleon’s sword was raised, this was it. The first decision made on the battle was that France was to attack first showing that therefore, the final charge for freedom was soon to commence. Tensions elevated, fear was forgotten and adrenaline sky-rocketed! They were ready and willing to fight until the last man was standing… 5…4…3…2…1…and Charge!
Lightning struck the ground; thunder filled the sky and cannons scarred the Earth. For hours the battle strode on deep into the night becoming more and more poisoned with the blood of men. It soon became obvious who had done enough to be triumphant, the Duke of Wellington’s allies and armies flanked Napoleon, surrounding him. Napoleon had been trapped and had no means of escape.
Anger, pain and fury rose inside Napoleon like the heat of battle. He had lost everything and he knew it, but that meant nothing to him. He had failed and it was his fault, the Duke of Wellington had won the battle. Napoleon had lost and the rest of the world won, but why? He had worked to the bone trying to make the world better, but the world resisted, why?
He had done it! He had won! He had defeated Napoleon and he would be remembered in history for it! The Duke of Wellington had waited all his life for this moment, but he never knew when it would come, until now. He had won everything and he knew it, but that meant nothing to him. He had now earned his chance to go home. He had fought for many years longing to feel the touch of the one he loved and now finally he could have it. His wife meant the world to him and at long last she was his to hold and to love for ever and ever, amen.
For the moment, the world was silent.
For the moment, the world was calm.
For the moment, the world was peaceful.
With no cause for alarm.