Wuppenhas, the Second!

'What', says General Redmond Barry-Eylund, commander of the forces of Saukopf-Bachscuttel, 'is this?' He waves a sheet of paper at his aide, Major Bohner.
'Well, sir,' says Bohner apologetically, 'it's Imperial propaganda. The Fenwickians seem to have employed the services of that Oskar Siber fellow in order to produce a scurrilous publication designed to undermine your reputation. Copies have been blown all over the camp, sir'.
The general frowns. 'But I don't understand, Bohner. There's just a picture here of a fellow in a night gown with a hat on'.
'Ah no, sir', replies the major. 'The point of this Siber attack, I think, is that the fellow here in the picture is you: and that is a lady's dress, sir, that you're wearing; and it's not a hat - that's a turtle'.
'So, I'm a big girl's blouse, and I'm a turtle?' Barry-Eylund peers more closely at the piece of paper. 'It could be a tortoise'.
Bohner looks more closely. 'No, sir, I think its a turtle'.
'I'd lay money on it being tortoise', says the general. 'In a hat'.
'My lord', says Bohner in an obsequious tone, 'I really think that it is a turtle'.
'But why am I portrayed as a turtle here, major? Why?'
'It is your reputation as a general, sir', says Bohner delicately. 'You are widely known as "Der Turtle Koenig": by far the best commander in all of Mittelheim in the fine art of  turtling - that is, of deploying your forces in awkwardly strong defensive positions and then ... and then ... I'm trying to find a way of saying "doing bugger all" without actually saying that, sir'.
'I can take a hint, Bohner', says the general glumly. 'But, I feel that's surely not how I should be characterised in Mittelheim at large. I am a military genius'.
Bohner nods. 'Yes sir, a genius at jamming your army into tiny, difficult places'.
'No, I mean I'm a genius in the the way of Caesar and Alexander. Not even if, at some implausible point in the future, a tubby Corsican short-arse were to emerge as a great commander, would I be surpassed in my military capabilities. I am bold, decisive, and cunning!'
Bohner nods. 'You are certainly bald, sir, there's no doubt about it'. He notices the general's growing despondence. 'But one out of three isn't so bad, my lord'.
'But you have seen me exercising command, major. Are my attributes not those of a genius?'
Bohner chews his lip. 'It really depends, my lord, upon the characteristics that one might commonly attribute to the notion of "genius", sir. If it was a list that included such things as, "alienatingly passive" or "annoyingly skilled at manipulating the technicalities of the rules of war", qualities like that, then the label "genius" might certainly apply'.
'Do I have no positive qualities at all?'
'You're quite tall, sir'.
'That's it?'
'Your wigs are nice'.
'But the men - they surely love me!'
'Of course they do, sir - our casualties are so low because there's so little real fighting to do. We just deploy in the smallest, most difficult to get to place on the battlefield; and then we watch our adversaries trying to advance through the copious quantities of local flora that you have cunningly engineered to be in their path. Then they get tired. Then something that wasn't on their maps appears in front of them, and they give up. It's war approached as a form of gardening'.

There is an awkward silence. Suddenly, Barry-Eylund stiffens and then holds himself erect in his saddle.*

'No longer, Bohner!' says the general, a glint in his eye. 'No longer! Today, we shall deploy like men! In the open! Well forward! With easily compromised flanks!'

'But, sir', interjects Bohner, 'isn't it possible that the purpose of the Fenwickian Siber attack was to goad you into ...'

'Flanks wide open, do you hear, Bohner!' roars Barry-Eylund, 'Everything hanging out!'

(Above) And so it comes to pass. The defending Bachscuttlers deploy well forwards. The first line comprises of  the elite and guard regiments. Behind, the two trained units are held in march column, ready to respond as the need dictates. The three regiments of cavalry are also placed into march columns. On the extreme left, the two regiments of irregulars are deployed in front of a wood, ostensibly in order to secure the flank but also because it might force the Fenwickians to use the word "wood".

(Above) Barry-Eylund intersperses his infantry with his three batteries of artillery. Looking at the enemy line, however, it is evident that Bachscuttel infantry may well have a hot time of it. The gap between the hills provides an excellent clear field of fire for the four Imperial artillery batteries (above, top left), and their gunners are trained at Grand Fenwick's excellent artillery academy.

Cavandish has ordered his forces to deploy. Even for the army of Fenwick, however, these orders are executed with a celerity that is as surprising as it is commendable. The reasons for this sudden efficiency quickly become clear: they are the result of nothing less than a revolution in Mittelheim staff systems. In the past, Grand Fenwick's approach to military staffs and such complex, demanding challenges as command and control, logistics, intelligence, and signals, have relied upon the usual Mittelheim staples of wilful ignorance, blind luck, and alcoholic beverages. But Cavandish has been able to leverage the possibilities created by the arrival in his army of one Thomas Burgess, Esq. Burgess is of a social standing that means that he can be given command of the cavalry. And this means, in its turn, that the existing cavalry commander, the Florentine mercenary Giovanni di Tripodi, can be reassigned. Tripodi is famous for his social graces and his excellent table; the latter to be fair, is quite impressive, with a sturdy oak legs and an intricate Gothic styling. Tripodi has now been appointed the first Chief of Staff in any Mittelheim army, ever. Tripodi brings to the job of Chief of Staff all of the finest attributes of the enlightenment: literacy; enquiry; punctuality; and punctuation. Moreover, level-headed fellow that he is, with him as Chief of Staff the army of Fenwick is immune to bouts of confusion.

(Above) With Tripodi in charge of sending the orders, the Imperial army deploys rapidly. In the centre, Cavandish has placed nine of his ten infantry regiments. They are deployed in three lines of three. The purpose of this deployment isn't difficult to surmise - it is likely that the Imperial infantry will be thrown forwards in the the hope that the mass of this force, combined with the Imperial's Lethal Volleys doctrine, will rupture the defending line. 

On the Fenwickian left, Thomas Burgess is deployed in command of the three cavalry regiments. The cavalry seem to be placed in a terrible position, facing as they are woods and swamps. Indeed, one of the cavalry regiments is actually deployed in  a swamp. This is surely madness - pure, frothy-mouthed madness. Or is it? For Burgess, veteran of campaigns in the Leech Coast, is apparently a master of fighting in harsh terrain. Troops under his command can march and fall back through difficult terrain without being disrupted.

(Below) On the Fenwickian right, Cavandish has deployed his artillery and his remaining infantry regiment. To the left of the artillery can be seen the gaily coloured banners of a unit of Wurstburpian mercenaries. Tired of being thrashed all the time, these fine men have changed sides. Since they are still in the field, and also still alive, we can assume that these are troops of better than average Wurstburp quality.

Cavandish gives the signal to commence his attack: which is to say, he gets into bed and pulls the covers over his eyes. With a deafening roar, the Imperial artillery commence a preparatory bombardment ...

*In Fenwick, of course, such activities would carry the death penalty.