Compared to the food itself, what truly evoked the envy of the soldiers from the Champagne Corps was the sight of officers from the Guard Corps sharing meals with ordinary soldiers!
Even the contents of their bowls were exactly the same as the soldiers’.
They couldn’t help muttering to themselves:
“These are the officers worth serving, worthy of respect. In contrast, the officers of the Champagne Corps just consider themselves nothing more than beasts capable of firing guns.”
Then, to their amazement, they saw the Crown Prince himself sitting together with a group of soldiers from the Guard Corps, eating out of the pot!
“Mm, this soup has a nice flavor,” Joseph dipped his bread into the red broth, and then took a bite. The tomato soup, with a hint of spiciness, tasted quite like borscht.
Lefevre nodded and said:
“Indeed, Your Highness, this is the soldiers’ favorite food besides meat.”
A staff officer added:
“All thanks to the tomato sauce. Good God, which genius invented this? The taste of fresh tomatoes is simply marvelous.”
The genius inventor Joseph did not join in the conversation, instead, he turned to glance at Napoleon, who was absorbed in twirling his food:
“Captain Buonaparte, are you getting used to life in the Guard Corps?”
The latter was taken aback and hastily set down his food, snapping to attention:
“Quite accustomed, Your Highness. Everything is very good!”
“Uh, you don’t need to be so tense,” Joseph thought to himself that they still had future collaborations to come; such stiffness wouldn’t do.
Find your adventure at empire
He suddenly noticed Napoleon’s eyes and asked with concern:
“Your eyes are full of bloodshot veins. Haven’t you rested well?”
Napoleon indeed hadn’t rested well; since joining the Guard Corps over two months ago, he had been relentlessly “cramming,” and his unyielding nature allowed him only five to six hours of sleep daily.
“No, it’s nothing, Your Highness, thank you for your concern.”
A corps staff officer turned to Joseph and said:
“Your Highness, Captain Buonaparte has been working very hard. Since joining the corps, he has passed several basic assessments.”
Joseph nodded in approval at Napoleon, then casually shifted the conversation:
“By the way, after leaving Troyes, you will be heading to Verdun.”
The corps staff officer expressed surprise:
“Your Highness, there seems to be no corps there requiring assessment, right?”
“It’s not about assessment,” Joseph said, “it’s war. A battle against a truly formidable enemy.”
Excitement immediately sparkled in the eyes of the surrounding officers and soldiers—at the Guard Corps, combat meant military achievements and honors, which also signified promotion.
Not to mention the envy and admiration of their families and neighbors.
This was thanks to the effective work of the Military Affairs Department.
Those who had distinguished themselves in battle would have their homes bombarded with military bands, pennants, flowers, and bonuses. Coupled with the three-day promotion of their feats nearby, they would instantly become local heroes.
When they returned home, the sense of pride and glory felt even better than a promotion.
“Your Highness, who are we going to fight against?” a company commander immediately asked.
“It’s not certain yet, but there will likely be Prussians among them.”
Upon hearing that they would be able to face a proper European army, everyone was rubbing their hands together, eager to try their hand.
They had defeated the Algiers and the Albanian Army before, and they had beaten the Moncalm Legion, but those victories were not enough to prove their strength.
If they could defeat the Prussians on the battlefield, who would dare question the authenticity of the Guard Corps’ battle achievements?
Speaking of fighting, Joseph suddenly remembered something and turned to ask Lefevre:
“Major, has the latest ‘compact riding cannon carriage’ been delivered?”
The latter shook his head: “It had not arrived when we left Paris, Your Highness. But the armory had already sent a Training Manual and said it would arrive within a week.”
Joseph sighed. It was still a bit late. He cautioned:
“Then have the riding cannon carriages sent directly to Verdun. You must hurry and practice the operations there; we may not have much time left before the battle begins.”
Napoleon, hearing the term “riding cannon carriage,” immediately perked up and asked the staff officer beside him:
“Sir, what is the new equipment that His Highness just mentioned?”
“Oh, it’s a type of cannon carriage that can move quickly. You’ll know when you get to Versailles.” The staff officer was somewhat disdainful of this Corsican—in this era, it was common to discriminate against outsiders, let alone a “country bumpkin” from a remote island.
Napoleon wanted to ask more, but saw that the staff officer had begun to discuss training matters with the Crown Prince, leaving him no opportunity to interject, his heart feeling as restless as if dozens of cats were scratching at it.
If he wanted to see the riding cannon carriage, he would inevitably miss the next meeting of the Corsican Revival Organization; perhaps Speaker Paul would have some new instructions…
But that new equipment related to cannons seemed even more appealing…
As he was struggling with his decision, unsure of what to do, the following morning the legion’s mail carriers arrived in Troyes.
This was the moment all soldiers looked forward to most passionately. The wooden boxes the mail carriers brought contained news from their families, lovers, or friends—their only connection to the world outside the barracks.
As the crowd waiting for their letters gradually dispersed, Napoleon approached the two mail carriers and gave his name:
“Napoleon Bonaparte. Is there a letter for me?”
A tall mail carrier picked up the ledger and searched for the name alphabetically, then pulled out a letter from the second wooden box and handed it to him:
“There’s a letter for you. Sent by Joseph Buonaparte. Oh, that’s a unique surname. Is he your father, or your brother?”
“He’s my elder brother.”
Napoleon casually answered, took the letter, and quickly returned to his own tent, where he eagerly tore it open to read.
In the letter, his brother first inquired about Napoleon’s recent situation in the army, according to custom. Then, in an excited tone, he told him that last month, by a chance opportunity, he had been selected by the assistant to the Minister of Commerce to become an assistant in the negotiation delegation.
Because of the urgent need for personnel, there was no need to pay for the position. The monthly salary was a good 65 livres, plus substantial allowances.
Napoleon smiled happily; this was much better than the barely surviving business his brother had been running before. With this stable income, he would no longer have to deal with the family’s huge debts alone.
The government position of Joseph Buonaparte was naturally arranged by Joseph through Bailly. Corsicans have a strong sense of family; after Napoleon’s father died, his elder brother was like a father to him, and Napoleon listened to him a lot.
So Joseph first secured a position for Napoleon’s elder brother within the French bureaucracy, and as the latter would climb the ranks, it was only a matter of time before “the backside would dictate the brain.” When that time came, even if Napoleon wanted to pursue Corsican restoration, his elder brother would not agree.
Napoleon continued to read. Joseph Buonaparte told him that at the time of sending this letter, he had already left Paris with the Minister of Commerce to participate in an important trade negotiation in Bavaria.