Feel the Weight of my Gabions!

Pacing themselves, the Vulgarian troops are still behind the first parallel (below). Their siege guns remain silent. This has exactly the same effect on the enemy as if they were actually firing, but uses up a lot less gunpowder.

More sappers begin digging (below). The aim, of course, is to establish a second parallel and new artillery positions closer to the enemy walls. Or so one might think if one were unfamiliar with warfare in Mittelheim.

As the sappers advance, they they get closer to the enemy and also further away from the support of their own troops. Deciding it is time to do something to discomfit their enemy that is more active than just hiding their dice, the Wurstburpers launch a trench raid! Two companies of grenadiers are committed to the attack and each company targets a sap!

(Above) One company storms forward!

'Attack! Att...' cries the commander.

'It's fine!' say the sappers. 'We surrender'.

'But we haven't actually attacked you yet!'

'No, really - it's fine. We don't need to go through the whole rigmarole of desperate hand-to-hand combat. Let's just say we've lost. Take us back to the fortress so that we can have a rest and a lie down'.

'But ... wouldn't you be ashamed to have put up no meaningful resistance?'

'No, not really'.

'But wouldn't you feel unmanly?'

'We're Vulgarian sappers. Even the rats bully us'.

'Well ... fair enough: but it's all rather disappointing. I was hoping for a tough fight and a glorious death'.

'Maybe later, when we've had some lunch?'

'Fair enough. Here, let me help you out of the sap'.

'Lovely'.

In the other sap, things go less well for the grenadiers (below). With two sapper companies present, the odds are more even, and these sappers seem much tougher, and also quite angry. There is a sharp and dirty punch-up, only distinguishable from the average Vulgarian night out because this affray has no musical accompaniment. The grenadiers are driven back with loss.

Operations continue. As they develop their saps, it is clear that the Vulgarian approach to siege operations has something of an Italian inspiration. Alas, this inspiration is less Trace Italienne, and more Spaghetti Bolognese (below). 

Instead of a pushing forward the saps and then digging trenches to create a second parallel, the Vulgarians start to connect their saps into a warren of siege passages. Whilst this seemingly rabbit-inspired digging configuration no doubt presages some nefarious 'Black Hops' operations and it also saves time, it doesn't necessarily support the most organised approach to assaulting a fortress. There is a reason that Vauban conducted sieges according to the sober principles of engineering, and this wasn't just because he was killjoy know-it-all. 

To the rear of the Vulgarian positions, the army's physicians are already busy (below).

'Ow! Ow!' cries the patient.

'Stop being a baby!' says one of the doctors. 'What did you expect? This is an amputation not a tickling contest!' 
'An amputation? But I only sat down here for a rest!'

The two surgeons look at one another. 'Well, that's a trifle embarrassing for us. But look at it on the bright side: you'll save a lot of money on shoes'.

Carry on Spying!

"Espionage": the realm of cerebral skullduggery. Or so it is in other places. In Mittelheim, cerebral skullduggery tends to be the preserve of grave diggers, since espionage requires skills for which most Mittelheimers are poorly suited - skill, wileyness, an ability to read road signs. Alas, with the guns of both sides being at extreme range, the belligerents decide to save their limited supplies of powder and to look instead for other ways to annoy their adversaries. For reasons best explained by inexperience, over-optimism, and too much port, they decide simultaneously to employ spies to cause disruption and dismay to their enemies. 

From the sally port of the fortress, a mysterious figure slips out into the night and makes his way stealthily towards the enemy trenches. His intention is to sow dissension in the enemy troops and to cause some of them to desert ...

(Above) A mysterious stranger swathed in a grey cloak presents himself to one of the Vulgarian regiments.
'Halt mysterious stranger swathed in grey who has just presented himself to our regiment!' cry some Vulgarian sentinels. 'Who goes there?'
'No one important or remotely suspicious', replies the figure. 'I merely come here, looming out of the night, mysterious and swathed in grey, to ask you "have you ever considered the advantages of deserting your regiment and quitting the field of combat?"'
The sentinels look at one another. 'No, not really', they reply.
'Fair enough', replies the figure. 'You can't blame me for asking'. He turns to leave.
'Hang on a minute', says another sentry. 'Are you a spy?'
'Er, no?'
'Then why have you wearing a badge that says on it "I'm a spy"?'
'Dammit! I forgot to take it off!'
There is a short struggle and the fellow is taken off to be shot. Given the standards of vulgarian marksmanship, this is a long and painful death, especially given that the head is not really a vital appendage for any Mittelheim soldier.

Meanwhile, in Munchausen By Procksi, a figure sidles carefully through the darkness (below). The streets are eerily quiet, not least because painting up civilians is boring. This winsome wench is a remarkably talented Vulgarian spy. Or so one might think by her credentials.

'Madame!' cries a nightwatchman, looming out of the dark. 'Madame! Why are you out at this time of night? There is a curfew in case of attempts by our Vulgarian adversaries to infiltrate our defences with spies!'

'Vell' replies the lady in a husky voice. 'It not verrrry likely dat I am Vulgarrrrrian spy. Just a lonely girrrrl looking for da grrrrain depot vot I can put dis bomb in'.

''Ha, ha, ha, ha, madame', chortles the guard. 'Yes, that's very funny, now just you run alo... oh, hang on - that does actually look like a bomb that you're holding!'

'Not da bomb!' says the lady defensively. 'Just da biiig irrrron pudding! But ...' and here she leans forwards, 'but you haff such a long and warrrrm thrrroat. Let me kiss you ...'

'Madame, I couldn't! Never! I'd die first! Oh, go on then ...' he says. 'Ow! You bit me!'

'Not to be big baby!' says the woman sternly. 'Now, you underrrr my spell!'

'I don't think I am ...'

'Hold dis big irrron pudding vhile I light it!'

'I don't think that's the ...'

'Now, all good: you take to grrrain depot'.

'But, you've just lit my ...'

'Now, I turrrn into bat and fly avay!'

'Madame, you're literally still here in front of me ...'

'I fly avay!'

'You're walking backwards whilst flapping your hands ...'

'Avay! Avay! Avay!'

'You're still walking backwards, madame, and you're just lowering your voice to give the impression of distance'. 

'Pffft!', says the lady. Hiking up her dress, she sprints off into the night.

The sentry puts the bomb down and starts hurriedly slapping his shoes which the mysterious lady has set light to. Then, he looks at the fused iron sphere at his feet. He looks around; shrugs; and rolls it into an alleyway, before wandering off.

With a score of 'Dead Spies - 1, Useful Impact - 0', the siege continues ...

That's a Lovely Pair of Bastions You've Got There!

Captain Carl von Lackwitz stands upon one of the bastion defences of the town of Munchausen-By-Procksi. He has been conversing with several Wurstburp engineering officers. Coming from the technical services, these fellows are better educated than most, indicated by the fact that they can read (even if they do often have to mouth the words), and that they can dress themselves in the morning.
'That was an unusual speech that you gave to the men earlier, Lackwitz', says one.

'Really?', replies Lackwitz, leafing through the pages of a book.

'Yes - quite ... ah, left field. One might normally expect that a speech designed to bolster the morale of the troops and encourage them to fight doggedly to the last man would contain a selection from the usual sort of familiar themes'.

'What themes, sir?'

'Well, you know, the stuff about bolstering morale and being encouraged and fighting doggedly to the last man'.

'I sought to appeal to a different aspect of the men's temperaments. Which elements did you find surprising?'

'Well, there were more references to cheese then I expected', says the officer.

'And also', adds another, 'that part that covered your disappointment at the contents of your Christmas stocking'.

'But what about the part where I told the men that, even if they all died, I would still be likely to survive and get promoted?'

'Probably not as inspiring to them as you might have hoped'.

'Bah - well, cobblers to them: they will probably all get bayoneted by the Vulgarians anyway'.

'Yes', replies the third officer. 'Yes - I think it was probably phrases like that the reduced the impact of your speech. Still, the walls here are strong and we still have hope whilst the enemy have not yet begun to bombard the walls.' 

'Especially', says Lackwitz gesticulating at his book, 'especially since you have access to the newly re-drafted version of my book on war and strategy!'
The engineers look at one another, shifting nervously. 'Actually, Lackwitz, you've already read us several sections of it and I don't think that ...'
'"War"', cries Lackwitz striking a pose. '"is a continuation of polygamy by other means".'
There is momentary silence.

'Are you sure that "polygamy" is the best word?'

Lackwitz frowns. 'Well, I did originally go for "pottery", but in the end I wasn't sure. Perhaps there is another "P"word that would fit?'

'Parrot!' expectorates one of the engineers.
'Peregrine!' cries another.

'No, no, I ...' replies Lackwitz.

'Porcine!'

'Perambulation!
'Pederast!'
'This is taking an unfortunate turn. I just want another another "P" word'.
'Wet shoes!'
'That doesn't begin with a "P"!'
'In my case it does: I can never aim straight!'
'Potato!'
'Policy?'
'Ah, now there you have something!' says Lackwitz nodding. '"War is a continuation of potato by other means"'.

(Below) On the other side of the fortress, flags are visible in the covered way. Unusually, these are regimental colours and not flags of surrender. But there is of course plenty of time yet. From the fortress, it is evident that the Vulgarians have not been idle. 

(Below) The Vulgarian sappers have been digging with the same enthusiasm that Mittelheim street urchins might apply to picking their noses: an extensive, careful excavation; the production and difficult transportation by wheelbarrow of unpleasant and muddy detritus; occasional pauses to view with satisfaction the quantity and quality of material removed; occasionally eating some of it to see what it might taste like.

Vauban himself noted the scientific basis for siege warfare, a basis that should allow the prediction of the exact moment when the besieged town will be forced to surrender. In this case, and at the current rate of Vulgarian progress, the fall of Munchausen will take place 42 days hence, at dinner time, at some point between the dessert and cheese courses. This being a Mittelheim military operation, though, why would the belligerents confine themselves to the patient application of military doctrine when they could instead tit about with other hare-brained schemes ...