Glashoffel, the Third!

'It would seem, Prince Karl’, says General Unpronunski, looking through his telescope, 'that our cavalry are rather keener than you might think on sustaining the existing balance of social order!' The right wing of the imperial army continues to push forwards, firing volley after volley at the Wurstburp cavalry. Yet the cavalryman, presumably keen to avoid opening up opportunities for the social advancement of their inferiors, seem reluctant to die. No doubt their chins are too small to provide good aiming points for their adversaries.

Despite the delay, the atmosphere in Marshal Cavandish's headquarters remains tranquil: the marshal, of course, is fast asleep; and Keith, his horse, has not been tempted to tamper with the marshal's existing plan: largely because he is eating some carrots; and also because he is a horse, and so is less likely than Cavandish might think to apply military intuition and judgement to an evolving tactical situation. Captain Nitwitz, too, has made a valuable contribution to the steady prevailing calm by vetoing any attempts to issue orders to the Fenwickian troops. Issuing orders opens up the possibility of making mistaken decisions, and/or of issuing orders that might contain nightmarishly damaging double entendres: orders that might contain such words as 'rear', for example; or 'wood', 'penetrate', 'grope', 'melons', or 'topless trampolining'.

Finally, one regiment of Wurstburp horse routs in the face of the Fenwickian musketry. (Above) Thanks, however, to some generally risible accuracy, the remaining two regiments continue to hold their ground resolutely in the face of the attack, slowing down the rate of the Fenwickian advance on this part of the line. If the Wurstburp infantry can exploit this time in order to overwhelm the enemy to their front, Unpronunski's army will be able to win the day!

(Below) Girding their loins, the Wurstburp columns push forwards against the extreme left of Cavandish's line. Here, the margravial troops have a key advantage: no Fenwickian could themselves ever "gird their loins". "Girding", of course, sounds suspiciously fruity to anyone from Grand Fenwick, and something very likely to transgress one of the Empire's many laws against double entendre. "Loins", it goes without saying, is right out; along with a variety of other similar words such as "rump". Not for nothing does Grand Fenwick have Europe's highest incarceration rates for butchers. This would also explain why, when eating roast chicken in Fenwick, one is likely to be offered a choice "Leg, or ... ah ... the other leg?'

The isolated Fenwickian flank unit fires ineffectually, despite the massed target to its front. The Wurstburp reply inflicts some disorder on their opponents, but no decisive results.

(Above, right) the imperial artillery contributes moral support to the defence, but, naturally for Mittelheim cannons, no actual help: the angles are such that the enemy are not in canister range. Led by the red-coated mercenary unit, two margavial battalions hurl themselves into the defending Fenwickians. Thanks to the benefit of their massed formation and their "a la bayonette" training, the margravial troops break the defenders! (Below) This being Mittelheim, the next defensive position in the Fenwickian line is not a reserve force of fresh grenadiers, but rather a badly positioned artillery battery. The battery is well-placed to deliver some devastating cannon fire: if, that is, this was a naval battle. Sadly, it isn't; and so showing one's side to the enemy is not an opportunity to deliver a raking broadside but is instead an invitation to have one's flanks badly spanked.

In some consolation for Cavandish, however, it turns out that the turnip field, which was a right royal pain in the behind for the marshal's defensive deployment, is also a bit of an attack of piles for Unpronunski's assault. 'Bah!' says Unpronunski angrily, 'that field of turnips is really buggering up our assault. I always knew that vegetables were bad for me'. (Below) The field limits the general's ability to sustain the weight and cohesion of his attack. Advancing units into the field, of course, would just precipitate an apocalypse of turnip-related disorder.* Moreover, to the right of the field, his troops can attack only on a two battalion frontage. Then again, advancing more troops to the left of the field risks breaking the infantry into two separate groups, ruining Wurstburp's command and control, such as it is.

To add to Wurstburp's woes, the general has also had to contend with the constant questions from the latest notable to join his army, Robert de Casside. Casside, of course, made the fatal mistake of assuming that, in Mittelheim, the normal conventions of gentlemanly behaviour were adhered to. In this case, gentlemanly behaviour would dictate that, when one asks, like Casside, if the army that one is joining is the army of the Landgravate of Rotenburg when, in fact, it is that of the Margravate of Wurstburp, the answer should be "By no means, sir: I think that you have made a terrible mistake". Whereas, sadly, the answer that he actually received was "Why not? This might be fun". And when one then later asks "Are you sure that this is the Rotenburg army? The men say that they are in the army of Wurstburp", gentlemanly etiquette would also suggest that the answer shouldn't be "The cheeky rascals, always pulling your leg! Now, head off like a good lad and lead that very dangerous infantry assault!"

Desperate to sustain the momentum of his attack, Unpronunski throws his disorganised mercenaries against the artillery to their front.  Thanks to the protective gabions, the mercenaries are thrown back and disintegrate, routing from the field. (Above, right) As optimistic as they are incompetent, the imperial gunners ignore the nearest remaining plethora of gleaming enemy bayonets pointed in their direction, and lay some fire upon the packed ranks of Wurstburp troops further away. Naturally, though, their main contribution to the battle is to block the arc of fire of their own troops behind.

The key dynamic in this battle is now clear - can the right-most columns of Wurstburp troops burst through the two imperial battalions to their front before the imperial troops dispatch the margravial cavalry and bear down on the flanks of the Wurstburp columns?






* Which, as any veteran knows, is second as a cause of disorder only to leeks.