No, No - That's the Beach: I Said "Breach", Dear Friends!

At the bastion, the victorious Fenwickian musketeers advance after combat, once again blocking this key point of entry against the attacking Gelderlanders. There is, for the attacking troops, no clever way out of this problem. Even if there were a clever way out, one wouldn't bet on them being the troops to find it, unless this clever way was printed in large letters onto a poster and then read out to the troops thrice daily for a period of not less than a week. So, yet again, the grenadiers advance up the gap in the bastion and launch a frontal assault upon the defenders (below).

Finally, by the power of their training and the application of the law of averages, the attacking column succeeds in breaking in. The defending imperials suddenly remember some urgent tasks or other that need performing far, far away from the site of this immediate danger. They rout (below) joining the other collection of flotsam and jetsam that have accumulated at the bottom of the wall's approach ramp. This is not good news for the defenders. It is, in fact, quite bad news: news that would sit somewhere between, on the one hand, discovering that one's trousers were on fire, and, on the other, discovering that said trousers for some reason were being worn as a hat.

The situation, however, remains dynamic. The Gelderland grenadiers, their blood up, and never happier in their military careers than when they are taking free stabs at enemy troops that are running away, vigorously pursue their defeated adversaries. In doing so (below, top), they expose their left flank to the Fenwickian grenadiers. Moreover, (below, bottom) the routing imperials on the parapet have now rallied, probably as a consequence of having been lied to about improvements in their pay and conditions and the introduction of a form of 360 degree reporting, and now stand ready to return to the fray.

(Below) With the situation deteriorating, and more supporting Gelderland troops pushing up behind the lead company, the imperial grenadiers charge forwards into the flank of their enemy. They are supported by musket fire into the other enemy flank from the head of the column of rallied troops.

As these dramatic and potentially decisive moves unfold in the vicinity of the bastion, other events equally distasteful and unmanly, are unfolding. In the safety of the second parallel, the contribution to the battle made by the Palatinate of Saukopf-Bachscuttel continues in full swing. It is almost certain, though, that rarely has the phrase "full swing" been accompanied by activity so slack and lacklustre. The Bachscuttlers have continued to fire their tiny mortar, activity interspersed with very long breaks for sausage, beer and colourful jokes involving salaciously tempting beer-flavoured sausage.

That their fire has been so ineffective in the battle is unsurprising given their penchant for firing from their mortar things other than shells, just to see what happens. Thus far, their experiments, of which the Nabstrian scientist Faltaire would no doubt be proud, have demonstrated conclusively that chairs, bratwursts, brass chamber pots, apple strudel, boots, and an unpopular bombardier named Fritz, all demonstrate inferior aerodynamic qualities relative to a mortar shell; although Fritz cartwheeled so fast that he did exhibit some of the properties of rifling.

(Above) In the approach trench linking the third parallel to the second, Horace de Saxe has intervened in an attempt to rally the remains of the two companies of Gelderland grenadiers that were broken in the initial assaults on the bastion. Foolishly, Saxe appeals to their sense of duty and honour, an attempt that only slows the running troops because they find it difficult to run and laugh at the same time. Saxe switches to menacing threats. However, this also fails - it is difficult to take seriously threats from a man sitting in a giant pram.

(Below)  At the other point of attack, the Gelderland ladder companies have continued with their surprising run of success. One company, along with the commander of the force, have found an undefended portion of the wall and manage to climb to the top without significant problems.

'Orders, sir?' ask the musketeers, reforming on the battlements.

(Above) The commander discharges his pistol and then strikes a pose.
'Men', he says, blowing the smoke from the barrel of the pistol, 'I've come here to powder wigs and kill Fenwickians - and I'm all out of wig powder'.
There is a short pause. A musketeer then says. 'I've got some wig powder, sir. Here, you can have it if you ...'.
'No! No!' says the officer in annoyance. 'I was just trying to introduce some dramatic effect ... Never mind. You've ruined it. Form up! Let's do this the undramatic way'.

In the other bastion itself, defending volleys decimate one of the ladder companies, driving it back to the foot of the wall. (Above) But another attacking company reaches the top and finds itself on the flank of some of the defenders. As at the other bastion, the fight here is reaching its decisive point!