Groeninghumpe, the Eighth!

With his Albanians out of command (below, far right), that portion of the Zentan line must descend into inactivity. Instead, Bulbous decides to focus his efforts against the highland regiment just in front of the woods (below, left). 

For this dangerous mission, it's time to test the power of mad-looking millinery. Sending orders to his two units of Djivileks (trainee janissaries), the general commits his bonkers-bonced troops into the attack. One unit is committed to a frontal assault; the other joins in from the flank (below): with only double the numbers, the Zentans are still well short of the numerical superiority necessary for them to develop a sense of courage. But their hats are very tall and yellow, so perhaps that will compensate.

Just because he can, and probably because he likes them even less than the rest of his army, Bulbous throws another of his irregular units into hand to hand combat. Assuming the Borats actually have hands, that is, and not just some sort of primitive prehensile tails (below).

Given the importance of this attack, Imam Fatih is interrupted in his coffee break, and is tasked once again with encouraging the Zentan irregulars. Having run out of tales of Zentan bravery, a collection of folk tales that was never very extensive, the Imam fires up his troops with stories about the excesses of their Wurstburp enemy (below).

Never very sensitive to the feelings of others, although quite keen in the right circumstances to feel others, the Zentans are easily encouraged to believe the worst of their adversaries. It helps that their Wurstburp enemies are strangely garbed, and so it is easy to misrepresent their kilts as some kind of odd cocktail dresses, and to convince the Djivileks that their enemy are not claymore wielding hooligans who might be quite dangerous, but are instead lovely ladies engaged in a relaxing and genteel afternoon of cutlery sharpening.

Bulbous’ attack is fully as effective as one might expect from troops training to be troops that never actually seem to fight. (Below, top) The hand of fate favours the Wurstburpers. The Zentans win, but not by enough to break their adversaries. The Djivileks to the front fall back into the woods.

(Above, bottom) The other unit of trainees must also retire, but as they retreat they encounter other friendly units and must keep heading backwards down a long line of other troops. In the end, theirs is less an exercise in falling back, and more a military rearward half-marathon. Separated from their irregular brethren by the regular sipahi cavalry, it’s clear that Bulbous is unlikely to be in position ever to get them back into command range. 

Bulbous snorts. ‘Fudge!’ he says, or something similar. To maintain the pressure on his enemy, he turns again to his irregular cavalry. But is that wise?

Groeninghumpe, the Seventh!

The Wurstburp troops charge in, four regiments forward. One highland regiment advances to dislodge the Zentan infantry in the woods to their front (below, left); two more units of highlanders and one of regulars also attempt to close with the enemy.

(Above, left) The Zentan unit in the woods declines to evade and stands to make a fight of it. (Above, centre) Two more Zentan units try and evade, but fail and are contacted by some very angry ex-Jacobites. (Above, right) The Wurstburp regulars find that their adversaries have scarpered backwards into the woods behind them. For those that have closed, the fight is violent and bloody ...

(Above, left) Already disordered, the highlanders charge into the woods, taking more disorder; lose the combat, taking more disorder; and then are pushed back, taking more disorder. The unit disintegrates and quits the filed: the Zentan irregulars have won! True, most of the real damage was done by the trees and other flora, but it's a win by Zentan standards. (Above, centre) The next unit of highlanders wins, but does not break their Zentan adversaries and so falls back to reform. (Above, right) In the remaining combat, the highlanders show their comrades how it should be done: in the briefest of fights, the Zentans are sliced and diced by the blade-wielding Wurtsburpers. The irregulars don't so much break, as just slide apart into meaty heaps.

Close combat is much too much like real war for the Zentans. In preparation for another retreat, Imam Fatih is deployed (below). With his tales of wildly implausible Zentan victories in unknown wars at imprecise times in the past, he buoys the morale of the troops, allowing them to rally as they fall back.

The Zentan troops retreat. The Wursburpers follow up. In the centre, they charge against one of the irregular units and, once again, the Zentans fail to evade. After a brief and embarrassing fight, the irregulars are cut to pieces and rout (below, centre). The Zentan line begins to look rather threadbare here.

At this point Bulbous realises that he has made what would be known in a regular European army as 'serious command and control error', but which the Zentans call 'a boo boo'. He has ordered his Albanians (above, right) to fall back just far enough that they are no longer part of the same command group as the rest of his line. With this portion of his line beginning to unravel, Bulbous decides that he needs to regain the initiative. It's time to put his faith in the power of silly hats! Bulbous calls upon his janissary trainees (the Djiveleks). Given how little time it takes to train to be a Zentan janissary, since they are never used in battle, one can get some idea of the quality of those that have still not yet qualified ... Still, never mind the quality, look at the size of their hats!

Groeninghumpe, the Sixth!

The tone of the battle suddenly changes!  Sure, a battle is all laughs when you're shooting at an enemy at long range so that they cannot reply. But when it looks like they might actually reach you and force you into dangerous activities like fighting, then war doesn't seem quite so clever. (Below) The Wurstburp infantry close with the Zentans.

The wily General Bulbous knows that his troops have one key weakness: they aren't any good at anything at all. On that basis, the Zentans decide that discretion is the better part of valour: in the Zentan case, much the larger part; and actually also that kind of "discretion" that is functionally identical to congenital cowardice. (Below) The irregulars fall back as far as they can in the face of the advancing Wursburp troops.

(Below) On the other side, however, their light cavalry presses closer to the Wurstburp horse. The Wurstburpers might have a vulnerable flank. There is much discussion of a mathematical nature about angles, table sizes, wheeling radii and whether one might forfeit the battle by punching one's adversary in the face for being a supreme court rules lawyer. 

Back on the other side of the battlefield, light on their feet in a retreat though they might be, it would seem that the Zentan infantry are still within reach of the Wurstburpers if the latter continue to advance. (Below) Being irregulars, the Zentans have the option, if contacted, to try and evade. Should Unpronunski send his troops in anyway?

For Unpronunski, it isn't a decision at all: he orders his troops to charge! What is a little danger when one's honour is at stake? And also, he is still well behind the fighting line; so, in truth, all the danger will be borne by the tartan-trewed porridge-gobblers that comprise his front line. Keen to deep-fry their enemy in the saturated fat of combat, the claymore wielding Wurstburpers race forwards again! It looks like the Zentans are going to have to test their evasion skills ...

Groeninghumpe, the Fifth!

With their flanks under threat, the Wurstburp cavalry have the choice of charging hell for leather (or perhaps, given that it's the Zentans, 'smell' for leather) into the enemy, or of 'tactically re-adjusting'; a manoeuvre that, in Zenta, usually involves scratching one's crotch, but which in civilised armies involves a minor retrograde movement: nothing too dramatic though; nothing, certainly, that could be construed as indicating hesitancy or a lack of martial ardour. 

The Wurstburp cavalry are commanded by Unpronunski to position themselves on Little Groeninghumpe; an order that could never be issued, ever, to Fenwickians. 

(Above) The Wurstburp cavalry fall back into their new position, covering their own flanks and those of their infantry. (Below) Keen to maintain the pressure on Unpronunski's right, the Zentan irregular cavalry gingerly follow up. Nothing too dramatic, mind: they move just close enough to their adversaries that their smell will continue to unsettle the enemy horses.

Unpronunski recognises that he cannot afford any longer to dance to the Zentan tune. On a matter of general principle, dancing to Zentan tunes is a bad idea, give that listening to Zentan folk music is like having a cucumber stuffed into one ear, whilst the other is intimately assaulted by a yodelling octopus. But there are specific reasons why the general decides that now is the time to energise the fight on the Wurstburp right wing. (Below) On this flank, the Zentan infantry continue to take pot-shots at their adversaries, trying to whittle them down. 

After a while, even with the usual lamentable Zentan accuracy, the Wurstburp casualties begin to mount. With his cavalry under threat and his infantry even more impotent than usual, Unpronunski decides that only vigorous action will allow him to seize the initiative from his enemy. The general gives the order to advance! Drums beat! Pipes wheeze! With a loud 'hurrah!', legs pounding and sporrans akimbo, the Wursburp highlanders charge! 

Groeninghumpe, the Fourth!

The Zentan irregulars continue to inch forwards. The Wurstburp artillery fire but, who would have guessed?, they fail to inflict any telling damage upon their advancing adversaries. The loss of a few limbs or even heads is unlikely to stop troops for whom speed, dexterity, or the capacity for logical thought are merely 'nice to haves'.

(Above) The Zentan infantry line gibbers and hoots, the troops forming a chaotic, capering mass; like a troop of monkeys that have been let loose on a children's dressing-up box and that have then found to their delight that a barrel marked 'Bananas' actually contains both bananas and a collection of modern firearms.  

Whilst the Wurstburp centre and right remain firmly on the defensive, the highlanders running their hands over their weapons as they wait for the Zentans to come closer, on the left Unpronunski decides to go for more of an active defence.

With the enemy regular cavalry masked by their sheep-brained irregular bretheren, Unpronunski decides it is time for some offensive action! (Above) Baggins' Horse and Fitzbadlie's Cavallerie charge a single Zentan unit. The Zentans fight as hard and heroically as they can; which is to say, not very hard or heroically at all. (Below) Before one can say 'sub-optimal speed-bump' the Zentans have been ridden down.

(Above) The Wurstburp cavalry halt in place. Though suffering minor disorder, they are still in good shape. Any attempt by the remaining Zentan horse (or indeed their riders as well) to take them on is surely in for a good thrashing.

Bulbous has clearly reached a similar conclusion. (Below, left) Declining the invitation to commit his irregular cavalry to anything so hopeless as an actual combat, he instead orders them to begin to move around the Wurstburp left flank. Even Zentans might pose a dangerous threat if they can reach an enemy flank or rear. 

In the Zentan military, the term 'combined arms' is most usually used in the context of the challenge of getting troops to use both of their upper limbs at the same time. Now, however, Bulbous begins to achieve some genuine combined arms coordination. (Above, right) Evidently intent at this stage on fighting a war of position, General Bulbous orders his Borat levend musketeers to move up into the nearby woods. Safe under cover from the enemy cavalry, they are now in a position to bring fire upon Baggins' Horse. 

(Above) The main Zentan line has halted. Bulbous' plan seemingly intends to make use of two key advantages possessed by his army. First, being skirmishers they out-range the Wurstburp musketeers. Second, being Zentan, they have no self-respect. Thus, despite the jeers and cat-calls from their enemy, the Zentan troops demonstrate no intention whatsoever of getting close to the main Wurstburp battle line. Unpronunski's frustrated highlanders are left waving their great choppers in the air, dreaming of poorly trained English conscripts. Unpronunski considers his options ...