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landing on the Brittany coast was planned and a march through the dense forest between the coast and the manor was decided upon. Sufficient men would accompany the attempt to give the effort a good chance of success. Charts and maps were available there in the flagship’s wardroom to study. Since twelve English miles of overgrown forest stood between the invaders and their objective, it would be necessary to start this sortie early.
    The necessity for speed had been expressed, but somehow delays crept into the schedule. Extra Marines for the anticipayed assault upon the manor housing the prince were added to the roster, in addition to more seamen in case of unanticipated losses. Valkyrie’s first lieutenant suffered agonies deciding where to stow all of these people.
    The ship sailed with the tide and the trip across the Channel was without incident. Mullins did not have the time to work up his crew as usual, but fortunately because of the additional seamen added to the crew, enough skilled hands were available to avoid embarrassment to the ship.
     
    The forest, during the days of its aristocratic owners, had once been a well-kept, parklike expanse. Now though, after a decade or more of disuse, it was a tangled wilderness. Originally, the Marines took the point, leading the burdened seamen. It was soon apparent though, that the Marines had no more knowledge of this wilderness than any other persons from the slums of London.
    It was then Bob Warner showed his worth. Used to living and working in the forest of his lord, he adapted to this one on the coast of France with aplomb. By morning, they had covered half the distance they needed to travel. With some idea now of the differences between coastal France and their own territory back home, the men began to lose their fears. While all of this area had once been the property of King Louis XVI, now landless peasants had begun putting up occasional hovels and cultivating small patches of ground. Warner scouted ahead of the party, guiding them around these areas to avoid giving any alarm of their presence. After some hours, the party came upon a peasant and his wife out to till the ground of their tiny holding with a span of oxen and a wooden plough. The woman led the beasts while her man kept the furrow straight.
    Mullins thought for a moment the party had been discovered when the plowman made a late turn and nearly came upon his party. Apparently, the peasant’s mind had been deadened by the drudgery of the work and the assault party was never noticed.
     
    It was Warner who recognized their arrival at their destination. Underbrush had thinned and now they were walking in a meadow. Beyond the crest of a hill, a massively built structure stood, constructed of hand-hewn logs by craftsmen who knew what they were about. Several outbuildings were strewn about and their purpose was evident when a formation of troops were spotted being inspected by their masters. It was clear the outbuildings were barracks for more troops than he had.
    After watching the evolutions for a few minutes though, it became evident that these soldiers were training with unloaded weapons. He had no qualms concerning his Marines. Mullins felt these troops were well qualified to attack any body of men twice their numbers. The armed seamen were a different story. With no training in infantry tactics, it could be interesting to see what the men might do when the bugle sounded.
    His fears were allayed though when his Marines, making their initial assault, easily overcame the enemy defenders. As his men advanced upon the enemy formation, the French sergeant proceeded to order his men to go into the drill to load their weapons. Unlike the British service, the French army did not frequently train with loaded muskets.
    Since the men had been practicing this evolution just moments before, the drill went smoothly enough, save that many soldats, believing this was all part of the drill, did not load live charges. As the