Bogorovsk, the Fourth!

Like a Mittleheim waistband, the Nabstrian works creep inexorably outwards. Each of Rumpler's pioneer companies is put to creating its own sap (below). If there is one thing that Mittelheimers have a reliable knowledge of, not least because it is forms such an important part of their culture and culinary heritage, it is mud. Wriggling gleefully in the filth, the troops tunnel their way through the earth like moles on their way to a hot, but poorly lit, date.

Having learnt from the experience of previous siege operations, the Nabstrians have identified the risks involved in being too cavalier in pushing forward unsupported saps. As a result, and most disappointingly to the Kurlandian defenders, the next flurry from the sappers brings forth a set of trenches (below).

In a rare moment of coordination, the supporting infantry is able to move up almost straight away (above and below). This provides the sappers with support in case of an enemy attack. Kurlandian infantry continues to wait in the covered way. They have not yet decided to take their lives (and probably a range of saggy body parts) in their hands, and move up to the firing step, a position from which they can both fire and be fired upon.

Siege warfare, however, is in many respects about geometry, angles, protractor-thingies, and, you know, paying attention to where one's troops are relative to the enemy guns. (Above top) Whilst the Nabstrian infantry are safely protected in their trenches from enemy fire to their front, this is not the case in relation to another enemy battery (out of wood cut and to the right) that is now in an excellent position to fire right down the side of their defences. This is what is known in other parts of Europe as an 'enfilade': in Mittleheim, though, this sounds rather too much like 'lemonade', and for Mittelheim gunners risks confusing serious artillery work with fizzy beverages. Thus, the Kurlandian gunners prefer to refer to what they intend to do as a 'spank you with my gun'. 

It is a sound spanking that they mete out. A barrage from a heavy battery on a flanking ravelin skips munitions right down the trench, routing the defenders (above), although the comments from the defenders that they have 'spanked the Nabbies with their balls' seem unlikely to appear in the official history of the action. 

Barely pausing to goad the Nabstrians with some ripe and inventive allusions to their mothers and their proclivities towards cavorting on hot dates with moles, the defenders then compound the damage by launching a night trench raid with one of their grenadier companies (above)! What Rumpfler needs is some early luck that will bloody Retchin's nose, and, metaphorically, stuff some moles up his nostrils (not least to remove the temptation from the Nabstrian mothers). Can the sappers drive off the small attacking force? I mean, probably not, but you never know: the grenadiers might get lost, or tired, or get attacked by irate and horny moles whose dates have failed to turn up.