The drummers beat and the fifers played, the Prussian army was on the move. King Frederick Wilhelm III had just heeded the call of his neighbors and joined the war against Napoleon. An army under the Duke of Brunswick marched toward Jena in an attempt to stop Napoleon's incursion into Germanic lands. Among this army was Infantrie regiment no. 33, better known as "Frederick's Fist"; a legendary regiment that had fought with Frederick II at Rossbach. Now, however, the regiment was out dated. Its muskets were old, uniforms ragged, and worst of all the officers commanding the units still thought victory could be achieved like it has always been: through the might of the Prussian soldier. Times had changed, musket balls no longer cared about the color blood you had running in your veins, they would spill it whether it was a regal blue or common red. A cannon ball would smash a general to bits the same way it would annihilate one of Prussia's fine soldiers. The ways of war were changing, and unfortunately for Jakob Beck and his comrades of "Frederick's Fist", the Prussian paradigm had not yet changed. But for now they were happy, they marched, confident of victory over the "Aufgestaut Republikaner".
Jakob Beck was marching, calling out to the men in his charge to "pick up their feet" and "stop lagging behind" threatening them with the loss of the ability to shoot some craupads. His father was a disgraced Prussian Junker who had lost his lands after an off-handed comment about Frederick Wilhelm II and Jakob was eager to prove his worth as a 20 year old Sergeant in the Prussian army. His father was a war hero, and had in fact served as the second in command in the 33rd during Rossbach where the regiment earned its name. Jakob was eager to outdo his father militarily and regain his family's lands and all that entailed. So Jakob marched eager and ready for a fight, but he couldn’t stop that nagging feeling in his gut that told him this might not be the victory it is thought to be.
Adolf Hendershott was a young 16 year old Lieutenant in the army, he was the son of a Bavarian noble who left for Prussia after Bavaria succumbed to Napoleon. Hendershott attended the Prussian military academy and purchased his commission in the 33rd "Frederick's Fist". He is eager to prove that he is not the average rich nobleman's son and that he is worthy of his command.
Carl Schenk, on the other hand, was not so confident. Born a serf and freed after the owner of the land he worked died, Carl was at home with the rest of the rank and file as he was a 21 year old peasant like most of the rest of the regiment. But he could not understand why men were so confident of victory. The night before in the few hours rest the men received, Schenk saw a strange being in the night sky, something that he thought looked akin to a headless crow. He recalled from his childhood stories that his father told him about these beings. They appear before disaster. According to the tales, one appeared of Tannenburg 400 years prior, predicting the inevitable demise of the Teutonic Knights as a major power. But for now, Carl marched. 48,000 Prussian soldiers were on the move and the next day would encounter Napoleon.
That night was one of little sleep. Men were constantly mobile, checking their flints, cleaning their weapons, and chatting with friends about the day to come; the entire encampment reeked of the anxiety felt by all men before a battle. Hendershott dined well with the officers of the regiment, eating a rich meal fit only for men of their standard. The main course, a suckling swine, was followed by the flow of alcohol, and a conversation of the next day’s events. While Hendershott was confidant of victory, his superiors were not. Colonel Koser, an old and grizzled veteran who had fought under Frederick II as an Ensign, was particularly nervous. He had witnessed a battle in which the French columns routed a superior Austrian force, and feared for what those same fearsome columns would so to his men. While he heard Koser talk, all Hendershott could think of was how cowardly the colonel sounded, and took a mental note to address this to the King himself, perhaps even earning a promotion. The conversation shifted in the direction of the war itself. While all the officers of the regiment were vehemently opposed to Napoleons usurpation of the French crown, several expressed doubts about whether joining the war in the first place was the right idea. Prussia had watched from the sidelines as France slowly tightened its grip on the continent, defeating Austria and Russia in every major battle. The armies of the coalition were in ruins and at that moment King Frederick Wilhelm III declared War on Napoleon under the assumption that the same army that had worked for his uncle, Frederick II the Great, would work for him. This assumption would now be put to the test. The old model Prussian army would now go against the conquerors of Europe, and the fate of everything built over the past century would be at risk.
The morning of October 14 was calm and serene, as a morning fog gently rolled across a grassy field near Jena. Suddenly a slow rumbling could be heard, for interrupting this scene were the sounds of the Prussian army taking up its positions. Before long the sound of a cannon being fired was heard and a small black dots could be seen coming from the general area in which they all knew Napoleon was. The cannon ball smacked the ground and bounced smashing into the right flank of the 24th Infanterie regiment at waist height killing five men instantly and dismembering six, who many knew would be dead by nightfall. From the 33rd's position on the left flank they could hear the crack of musket fire coming from the far right, the army commanded by the Duke of Brunswick himself. Prince von Hohenlohe commanded the left flank nominally, but most of the men knew Massenbach made all of the decisions. The steady rumbling of cannon fire increased as more cannon balls poured into view and began smashing into the Prussian ranks, creating disorder and confusion. Adding to the panic was the sight of the French columns marching into view; eagles raised high over their heads and drums banging away. Though the French were not in perfect step, nor did they look like a conventional army, but they were a feared enemy nonetheless. As the men of the 33rd were fixated upon this unnerving sight, they missed the tiraullers slowly creeping toward them.
Lieutenant Hendershott walked up and down his platoon's ranks, ensuring them that the "Republikaner" could not stand up to Prussian military prowess and discipline. This 16 year old boy stood tall, braving the cannon fire to make his men feel braver; but he, in his relatively lavish officers’ uniform, looked like an optimum target for any lurking sharpshooters. As he was standing next to Private Helmut Schmidt, the French tiraullers opened fire, narrowly missing the young Lieutenant but mortally wounding the 15 year old Schmidt. Hendershott immediately turned, screaming for his platoon to level and fire. The Prussian musket balls smacked into several of the gravely outnumber tiraullers and they began to fall back, releasing a blind volley into the 33rd's ranks, taking two more lives to be added to the 9 lost in the first volley. The sharpshooters retreated to the quickly approaching columns where they swelled the ranks, making them an even more feared sight. Beck was standing next to Schenk when he noticed Schenk was muttering something about some "dammed bird", but before he could inquire their French foes marched into musket range. He could hear down the line Colonel Koser shout the command to level their weapons. The Prussian soldiers did this with the steadiness and cool headedness they had been taught in training, the moments seemed to creep by. Beck was sweating profusely under his shako, making clean streaks on his dirt covered face some of which ended in his thick walrus moustache. Schenk had completely shed his shako, knowing that it had no true practical use when the fighting started. Schenk had also shaved the previous night, for he knew that all it would do would make him even hotter in his already hot, but ragged, wool uniform. The seconds crept by then finally the command "FIRE!" could be heard and the entire Prussian line was immediately masked by a veil of smoke.
Hundreds of musket balls were then flying at high velocity toward the French ranks, and in an instant 50 Frenchmen were lying on the ground writhing in pain. This was a massive moral boost for the frightened Prussian soldiers, but they still had to reload. Beck began pouring his powder into the pan and locked it in place, he then put the butt end of the rifle on the ground and began pouring his powder down the muzzle of his musket, but when he spit out the ball a massive volley was unleashed by the French and nearly the entire first rank of the Prussians was obliterated, the second rank moved forward as Beck replaced his ramrod and waited for the command to level. The command was never given, for in the French volley Koser had taken a musket ball to the head. Hendershott soon realized this and began giving the necessary commands to his platoon, as other junior officers began doing the same. Beck, Schenk and the other survivors of the first French volley opened fire along with the second rank which had just moved up. The effect, however, was quite demoralizing, as most of the soldiers had shot far too high and only 20 or so French soldiers had been killed or wounded. The columns resumed marching towards the doomed Prussians, many of whom began throwing down their muskets and running away, where they met their fate with the cold steel of Prussian cavalrymen who were cutting down deserters, attempting to discourage any more cowardice. To add to this massive blow to morale, shouts of "retreat" could be heard from the right flank, the soldiers were breaking and routing as the French columns reached the Prussian ranks. The cannon fire began to shift from the right flank to the left. More and more cannon balls found their way to hapless Prussian soldiers, smashing them to bits.
The column opposing the 33rd reached a mere five paces away when a half hearted volley was sent into the French ranks, taking down the first rank of men, but with the massive booming of the drums and shouts of "Vive l'Emperor" and the Prussian line began to waver as the column smashed into the regiment. Hendershott's platoon began to fall back, as the regiment was beginning to break under the pressure of the seemingly unending flow of Frenchmen. As the line began to waver, and men began to fall back, French cuirassiers began to move up to take full advantage of this breach in the line. Hendershott, now one of the very few remaining officers, failed to spot this. Beck, on the other hand, did not and began shouting "Rally Square lets go, Rally Square". Unfortunately for the men of the 33rd, very few men heard him, and those that did were too frightened to do anything. Men began to rout and the entire 33rd began to break away from battle. Without a colonel or effective officers it appeared that the day was done. Hendershott finally heard Beck, grabbed as many men as he could, and had them form in a square as quickly as possible. Looking around and seeing the main Prussian force begin to rout he knew that they could not carry the day. It would, however, be possible to keep some of the 33rd alive to fight the French another day. He grabbed Beck, the only sergeant he could spot, and told him that he must keep the 33rd alive and get as many men off the field as possible. Beck stared past Hendershott's grimy black face and into the bright blue eyes of the boy, clutching his left in pain, as he had been wounded during the first French volley. Beck felt that he needed to ask What about you but he knew the answer and understood his orders. He knew they he must not let his sacrifice be in vain.
Beck grabbed the ragged sleeve of Schenk and told him what needed to be done and requested Schenk's help, Schenk merely grinned, saying "I thought you'd never ask" leaving an understandably puzzled look on Beck's face. Looking toward the square that was forming around Hendershott and the encroaching French cavalry Beck knew time was not on his side and began telling the few men still firing to retreat. All living men of the 33rd were retreating except the brave volunteers who stayed behind with Hendershott to hold off the French. Beck looked back and stared through the haze as he watched the French Cuirassiers smash into the square that was formed. The horses and riders seemed to have no fear, for as one was killed another immediately took its place and exploited the gap left by the previous rider. As the horses were smashing into the left side of Hendershott’s increasingly small square, a French infantry column smashed into the right side breaking the square and allowing the poor men who had once made it up to be slaughtered by the vicious cuirassiers. Beck watched as a French officer of the Cuirassiers was shot in the head by the young Hendershott who was immediately ridden down by the other vengeful members of the Cuirassiers. The horses quickly turned and faced Beck's men and began to ride toward them when a skeleton force of Prussian dragoons unexpectedly rode into their flank and provided the final bit of cover needed for the men of the 33rd. Beck reached camp, and learned that he was the highest ranking survivor. After doing a roll call Beck learned that of the original (nominally) 1,131 men only 340 regrouped back at camp, it was estimated that 600 men had surrender and the rest had either been killed or fled to save their families from the encroaching doom. Prussia had been defeated, and it was soon to be known that their previously "invincible" army had been defeated twice in one day, once at Jena, and again at Auderstadt. Schenk approached Beck, asking him the question on everyone’s mind, what now?
The answer, to Beck, was clear. Ost Preussen.
While marching later that night Schenk looked up and saw what he thought looked like a headless crow......