Reincarnated as Napoleon



The distance between Rochester, England, and London, England, spanned approximately 52 kilometers. Napoleon and his formidable army covered that distance in about six hours, swiftly capturing towns along the banks of the River Thames with little to no resistance. Gravesend, Dartford, Bexleyheath, Welling, Plumstead, Greenwich, Deptford, and Bermondsey all fell under French control without a fight.

For each city they seized, Napoleon made it a point to detach troops from his advancing army, strategically positioned to prevent any potential revolts or uprisings. The French grip on these newly acquired territories was firm, and the anticipation of their arrival in London weighed heavily on the city's residents. 

As Napoleon's Army approached the South Bank of London, they encountered an unexpected and determined British resistance. The city that had initially seemed docile had suddenly come alive with defiance.

Civilians from all walks of life, clutching century-old muskets and whatever weapons they could find, emerged from their homes. The streets filled with the sounds of hurried footsteps, muffled voices, and the occasional clattering of pots and pans pressed into service as makeshift weapons.

From the windows and rooftops of centuries-old buildings, Londoners unleashed a hail of musket fire upon the advancing French forces. The narrow, winding streets of South London became a deadly maze for the invaders, as bullets whizzed through the air, finding their marks in the ranks of Napoleon's troops.

Napoleon himself watched the sudden ambush unfold before him. His experienced eyes assessed the situation quickly, and he barked orders to his officers.

"Form a defensive line! Return fire, but do not advance further until we have control of the streets," he commanded.

French soldiers scrambled to form rows of defense amid the chaos. The cobblestone streets of South London became a battleground as the clash between French invaders and determined British defenders intensified.

Amid the smoke and confusion, Napoleon's officers rallied their troops. They hastily set up impromptu barricades using overturned carts, debris, and whatever objects they could find to shield themselves from the unrelenting barrage of gunfire from the rooftops and windows.

Napoleon, never one to shy away from the front lines, stood resolute at the heart of the action. His bicorne hat and dark coat made him a conspicuous target, but he showed no fear. Instead, he calmly issued orders.

"Suppress their fire! Clear the buildings, one by one," he directed, his hand sweeping in a determined gesture.

French soldiers began the arduous task of clearing the centuries-old buildings one at a time. They cautiously moved through the narrow, winding alleys, flushing out the entrenched British defenders room by room. It was a grueling and perilous process, as the defenders fought fiercely from their elevated positions.

But when the French soldiers caught up to the Londoners, atrocities were committed. They weren't taken as prisoners but were executed on the spot. The reason was clear: the French soldiers had seen their comrades fall to British musket fire in front of them. 

"Our position is disadvantageous, Your Excellency," Berthier commented. 

"I am aware of that, Berthier," Napoleon said, sweeping his glances at the narrow streets of London. 

Due to the nature of the streets, Napoleon's Army found itself scattered and unable to maintain its traditional line formation. The orderly ranks that had served them so well on open fields were rendered ineffective amidst the maze-like streets of South London. 

"We'll sweep every corner, every street, and every avenue of this city," Napoleon said. "That's the only best thing we could do—"

Napoleon was interrupted when the ground suddenly shook as an enormous explosion erupted not far from his position. 

"They are filling the buildings with explosives?" Napoleon muttered under his breath as he gazed up to the sky, looking at the dark plume of smoke rising in the air. "They are using the city as a defense. Just how far are these British going to defend their country?" 

"Your Excellency," Bessieres stepped forward. "They have booby-trapped the whole city. It's dangerous to expose yourself." 

Napoleon raised a hand, telling Bessieres to stand down. "I'm fine in this position, just continue our approach and get me the casualty reports on that area. Judging from the location, it's from Lannes's Corps."

Upon saying that, a messenger approached Napoleon. 

"Telegram from the Fifth Corps!" The messenger said. "Heavy casualties incurred, hundreds of French troops were killed in an instant, and the road was blocked." 

Napoleon clicked his tongue. "Tell General Lannes that he is to advance in another direction." 

For two hours, Napoleon was bogged down by the British guerilla warfare, taking a thousand casualties, which was the largest casualty in a day Napoleon had suffered in his entire career up to this point. 

But thanks to the French huge numbers of armed troops, they were able to squeeze the militia into the South Bank, where they now congregated.

Men, women, and children huddled as they found themselves surrounded by the French troops armed with bolt-action rifles.

General Soult and Ney emerged from the alley on their horse and gazed down upon the British militia as if they were insignificant ants scurrying about.

General Soult, known for his ruthlessness in battle, turned to General Ney, his cold gaze fixed on the huddled civilians below. 

"These rebels thought they could defy us in their own streets," he sneered.

General Ney, equally frustrated, nodded in agreement. "It seems they underestimated us, General Soult." 

French soldiers continued to encircle the British militia, forming a tight perimeter. The civilians were trapped, their makeshift weapons now useless in the face of the disciplined French forces.

Napoleon, having received reports of the situation, arrived on the scene. He surveyed the situation below.

"General Soult, General Ney," Napoleon said, "we cannot afford to waste any more time. These civilians have obstructed our advance for far too long."

General Soult and Ney nodded and issued a chilling order to their men. "Open fire."

Without hesitation, French soldiers began to fire upon the trapped British militia, as if it was their pleasure. 

Men, women, and children fell to the ground, victims of the ruthless onslaught. 

Napoleon caught sight of a twelve-year-old girl, her face streaked with tears, knelt beside her fallen mother. The lifeless body of the woman lay in a pool of blood.

Overwhelmed with grief and rage, the young girl clutched a knife that had fallen from her mother's hand. With trembling hands and tears streaming down her face, she rose to her feet and made a desperate attempt to reach Napoleon, who stood on his horse overseeing the grim scene.

General Murat knew he had to act swiftly. He drew his musket pistol and aimed it at the young girl. 

With a heavy heart, he fired a single shot. The girl's small frame crumpled to the ground, her futile attempt to avenge her mother cut short.

Napoleon watched the tragic scene with a stoic expression, his heart undoubtedly heavy. 

"Such pointless deaths," Napoleon uttered. 

With the British militia defeated and the Southbank now under French control, he glanced at the bridges that would get them to London. But they were barricaded with sandbags and there were cannons along the bank of the River Thames. If the South Bank offered fierce resistance, undoubtedly it's more fierce in the capital itself. 

"Berthier, we will bombard the city before we go in," Napoleon said.