THE BEGINNING OF THE END
by Synne Skålevik
The great Napoleon Bonaparte's confident commands and smart remarks were starting to falter. His
great plans did not lead us to the victory he had promised. His plans had one-upped the enemy so many times,
his confidence shot through the roof. Now we could see the flaws in his ever so great plan, when he himself
could not. But as we had little to nothing to say on the matter, we were left wondering who would be able to go
back home to their families when this madness had all ended.
The chatter within the troops circled around Napoleons latest remarkable plan to invade Russia. Some
were thrilled to fight under the general's commands. Others, not so much. To fight for the freedom and rights of
a land was one thing, but to fight for someone's glory was viewed from many different angles. We were told to
stick to the plans and not think about anything other than the task at hand. I mean, how could we not, none of
us wanted to die, and to not have our heads in the game would only lead to death and failures.
The overflowing excitement people held was almost too much to bear. How some got excited about war
and death was beyond me. Most of the people here had only joined the army, and gotten themselves a place
within the Grande Armée, to feed the families. Most would probably never see them again because of this stupid
ongoing war.
There was nothing that could prepare us for the cold weather we were met with. It felt like strong waves
of ice shards were clawing at our face as the wind was going strong. The cold was starting to take its toll on
people. Frostbitten noses and fingers led to lots of complaining and whining. But as always, we were told to suck
it up and act like real men.
Men going to war were not an unusual sight, but there were far too many young ones taking part in this,
not fully understanding the responsibility they were putting upon themselves.
We were running low on both food and supplies now, hunger turned into starvation and small cuts
turned fatal due to infection. Still with Napoleons many men shortening in number, did he refuse to admit
defeat. The army was crushed under the bouldering sound of both canons and gunfire. We were scared, even
terrified. We had all been prepared for the worst, but looking death in the eyes, makes you numb and unable to
function.
The laughter had died along with the many soldiers. In the silence of night, it was not uncommon to hear
the sound of men crying in both pain and despair. Well over five hundred thousand soldiers had been shortened
down to roughly ten thousand. We all fought in desperateness now. It had gotten harder and harder to think as
one and not just watch over your own flank as to not die as your comrade.
The feeling of hopelessness was strong and aggressive. With little to nothing left did Napoleon lead us to
our doom. But still the ones left where hell bent on staying strong and not let the feeling make us falter after all
we have been through.
The way back to France were long and unwelcoming. With horses dying, and frozen water it took much
longer than originally planned. The thought of the thousand men dead and wounded left behind made me sick
to the stomach. I could have been one of them, frozen solid in the cold weather never being able to see my
family again.
What was left of the Grande Armée was handed over to a man called Joachim Murat, as Napoleon
himself speed of to Paris. Many men died in vain for a man who fled with not as much as a thank you, to the
remaining of his faithful army.
Families were devastated and angry, but still many believed him to be a good man with no ill intentions.
Believed that because of his glorious victories, that this was just a simple mistake. That he still knew what he was
doing. The men who fought and died for him knew that his hands would be stained with more blood then what
should be possible. All because of a flawed plan crushed by the force of the enemy.
Synne Skålevik
20.01.2018