Jangthof, the First!

Wherein the army of the Landgravate of Rotenburg commanded by Furst Augustus Saxe-Peste encounters the army of the Margarvate of Wurstburp under the command of General Bazyli Antonin Unpronunski

'You utter, utter bastards', says Prince Karl von Porckenstauffen. 'You miserable pot-bellied, left-footed, badger-faced frauds.' He pauses, expectantly.
'Well', replies General Bazyli Antonin Unpronunski finally. 'It's not the pre-battle speech that I would choose to deliver but who knows, it might inspire the men - if they've had particularly difficult childhoods; or a problematic relationship with their parents'.
Prince Karl frowns. The prince's protuberant teeth, bulging eyes, and bulbous lips give him the look of  an ill-favoured rabbit of a sort so ugly that the phrase 'breed like rabbits' would be unlikely ever to apply to him, unless the other rabbit was blind, tied up, or charging carrots by the hour.
'Perhaps some references to porridge to tie into their wild Gaelic heritage?' suggests Adjutant von Hardtpumping.
'Perhaps casting fewer aspersions on their parentage and masculinity might be in order, my prince. Try and appeal to their better nature', counters the general.
Prince Karl scoffs dismissively. 'They don't have a better nature. What you think is their better nature is just alcoholism'.

The prince's desire to stimulate the morale of his troops is understandable given the context. Thoroughly defeated by the Vulgarians at the battle of Wackdorf, the Wurstburpers should at least have been entitled to a relaxing rout all the way back to their margravate. However, their well-deserved opportunity for a restful period of desertion, pillage, disease, and internecine squabbling has been stolen from them, thanks to the sudden and unexpected arrival of an army from the landgravate of Rotenburg. Caught near the river Procksi in the vicinity of the village of Jangthof, Unpronunski has been forced to deploy his army for battle.

(Above) Taking advice from Prince Karl, the general has formed his infantry into battalion masses; the musketeers are then deployed into two unequal lines - five regiments in the first and two in the second. These troops comprise entirely of conscripts.  Behind them, in reserve, he holds his two trained units. The conscripts have been recruited on the march, and a sorry lot they are too. Enemy deserters, Gelderlanders, Vulgarian peasants with a poor grasp of geography and politics - all have been issued with a musket and a uniform and pressed into the ranks. As unfamiliar with battle as they are with soap or napkins, these troops will have to be skilfully handled if they are to avoid destruction at the hands of enemy volley fire. The artillery and cavalry are aggressively positioned upon Jangthof hill, the possession of which is critical for success in this battle.

Of the general's two trained infantry regiments, one in particular is worthy of note. Sent forwards from the Wurstburp regimental depots is a unit comprised mainly of old Jacobite Scots (below), lured into the army by the promise of a lovely new uniform, a pint of iron brew, and the sort of campaign for which their experiences in the '45 rebellion have made them familiar: a romantic cause;  grandiose promises of success; passable folk-songs; poorly organised logistics; dithering leadership; and, if required, abandonment by their commander for a damp bint on a boat.

Despite their inexperience these are tough troops, their resilience shaped by a traditional Scottish life based upon embracing adventure and avoiding vegetables. Their one concession to the climes of Mittelheim has been to eschew the wearing amongst the rank and file of kilts, the traditional attire worn without undergarments, and to instead embrace the safely supportive warmth of a good pair of military britches. Officers, however, are still allowed to wear kilts, on condition that they never, in a public place, climb up a ladder; and that they do not, in the presence of ladies, stroke their sporrans.

Across the meadow, Furst Augustus Saxe-Peste, Knight Commander of the Rotenburg Order of the Golden Fleas and General-in-Chief of the Grand Army of the Landgravate of Hesse-Rotenburg-Schillingsfurst looks on through his spyglass at the Wurstburpers as they deploy their forces. Thanks to his heavy defeat at the hands of the Nabstrians at the battle of Putschdorf, the Furst's army is also in poor shape. Four of his infantry regiments are made up of conscripts, as are three of his four cavalry regiments. The Furst needs a victory. In the court of Rotenburg, his enemies are whispering against him, and Landgrave Choldwig has been really very specific as to the necessity for a success. 'Come back with your shield or upon it', was Choldwig's exact comment.
'But I haven't got a shield', replied the Furst.
'Well, get one then. So that you can bring it back or return upon it'.
'But, my lord: a shield is really quite superfluous to my role as commander of the army. And it's quite heavy. Couldn't I just take something else with me that was, well, a bit handier'.
'Such as?'
'Well, uh ... a spoon perhaps?'

The landgrave frowned. 'Is it a big spoon?'
'Ah, uh ... I could procure quite a large one, my lord. Two, if you like'.
Choldwig paused, and then shrugged. 'Very well. But you'd better make it quite a big spoon. "Come back with your spoon or on it". Or else. Hmm, as a threat, I think that it lacks a certain something. But anyway, I think that it goes without saying that, if you lose this battle, Furst, then whatever the state of your cutlery, it's likely to result in you being relieved of an assortment of appendages, the selection of which I think that in the spirit of the open-mindedness and flexibility for which I am famous, we should leave until the required moment. Now - off you go!'

Clutching his spoons tightly, through his orderly, Captain Sebastian Wankrat, Furst Augustus quickly begins to issue orders for the deployment of his troops. (Above) Augustus deploys all of his cavalry to his left; if 'deploy' is the right word to use for a force as familiar with riding horses as they are with riding turtles or wrestling mermaids. 'Milling' might be just as appropriate a description; as might 'falling off'. Still, his cavalry is at least well out of the way, as is his artillery, both batteries of which are positioned on the extreme right. The Furst's plan is clear from his deployment: he intends a bold frontal assault with his infantry, which is deployed in three lines, closely supporting one another. Included in this force are units of the newly formed Legion Britannique.

At the Wurstburp headquarters, Prince Karl seems to have arrived at a rather different conclusion as to the value of mounted troops. (Below) Jangthoff hill is the key position for this battle. Prince Karl has convinced Unpronunski that the route to success in this desperate encounter lies in a focus on artillery preparation and then a decisive intervention by the Wurstburp cavalry.

'Our cavalry?' enquires the general dubiously. 'Though I cannot claim to be an experienced general officer,' notes Unpronunski thoughtfully, 'it has certainly not escaped my attention that, upon observing the previous experiences of encounters in the Wars of the Gelderland Succession, relying upon cavalry to deliver decisive results on the battlefield is something that seems bound to deliver disappointment. As an instrument they seem to be ... unreliable'.

'Undependable', agrees Adjutant von Hardtpumping.

'Untrustworthy', adds Unpronunski.

'A big bag of shite', says the adjutant.

'Enough!' shouts the prince. 'As the margrave's nephew and heir, my strong recommendation is that you do as I say, general.'

The general sighs. 'As you wish, my prince. But betting upon horses: it rarely goes well ...'