The Guns of Naverhon, the Final!

Alas for the Zentan cause, the janissaries continue to treat the battle like a long weekend away. Having done some additional sightseeing to the rear of the Albanian positions, the slave-soldiers clearly conclude that a sight definitely not worth seeing would be the enemy firing line. Some of the Albanians rally and push forwards again. Others recommence their fire upon the lead unit of Pandurs (below).

The Zentan commander is understandably frustrated at his inability to get his best troops into the fray. Various colourful metaphors are uttered; hand gestures, not all of them supportive or child-friendly, are also made; and some frustration is evinced over the rules of war. 

(Above) Nevertheless, the Albanians continue to fight on manfully. More Pandurs tumble to the ground! (Below) The Pandurs' morale, never terribly high, crumbles at the sight of blood. They flee the field, leaving the remaining engineers dangerously exposed!

(Below) Alas, the Albanians are unable to take advantage of the situation. The engineers manage to run backwards before the Albanians can open fire on them. More mercenary infantry move up and open fire on the Zentans.

Any plan that relies for its success primarily on the efforts of  Zentan irregulars is never likely to be one in which the chances of success are high. Given the continual failure of the janissaries to move or act, the performance of the Albanians has been commendable. However, without the help of the Zentan elite troops, the chances of Zentan success were always going to be lower than a hedgehog's gonads. 

(Below) Many hits are inflicted, and the remains of two platoons of Albanians rout the field.

Having lost more than half their troops, the Zentans find themselves having to test morale. They fail, of course, as is the Zentan way and the attacking force must now retreat! The engineers are safe!

The Guns of Naverhon, the Fourth!

War, as a rule, is known to be quite a stressful activity. It's not, of course, the most stressful human experience. That accolade would be reserved for those circumstances in which one has been asked that sort of particular question by one's partner in which a fate worse than death might come from giving the wrong answer: questions such as: 'Do you think I should I wear the green or the blue?'; or, 'Do you think I'm putting on weight?'; or 'Do you think that my sister is attractive?'

Nevertheless, and not withstanding the physical harm that can also come from giving the wrong answers to the previous questions, war is generally a worrying state of affairs. There are the physical traumas that result from being hit by musket shot or cannon balls; the mental traumas that derive from discovering that not all of the latter have been fired by the enemy; and the moral dilemmas concerning whether, as a good Mittelheim Christian, one should bayonet civilians and then set light to them; or whether they should instead be lit and then bayoneted. Having said all of this, there is one kind of warfare that it much less taxing, physically, mentally, and morally: and that is Zentan Janissary warfare. Zentan Janissary warfare has more in common with such non-military pursuits as sleeping, drinking coffee, or going on holiday. 

And so it is that, as the Zentan struggle to kill or capture the enemy engineers intensifies, the main concern for the janissaries seems to be whether there will be sufficient sun loungers available: a question of concern given that their enemy are Germans. (Below) The Albanians have driven back one of the units of Pandurs. Another unit sidles outwards along the road, trying to cover the engineers. The unit that has been driven back rallies on a nearby hill.

(Below) The mercenary musketeers are now unobstructed by the Pandurs. Using formed fire they pour volleys into the Albanians: although, in reality, applying words such as 'formed' and 'pour' would probably be stretching the meaning of those words somewhere near breaking point. The mercenaries are 'formed' in the sense that they are noticeably more clumped together than the Pamdurs; and they 'pour' fire in the same way in which something that was recently happening quite slowly is now beginning to occur a bit faster: like the panic that might start seizing a gentlemen when he realises the consequence of saying something like: 'Well, you know, as it happens your sister is actually quite saucy'.

(Below) The Albanians take more casualties and one of the remaining units is forced to retreat from the edge of the woods. The dilatory janissaries have now managed finally to get close to the action. One platoon is now behind the wood containing the Albanians, a position that they have reached in their search, no doubt, for a quieter stretch of beach in which to unwind.

(Below) The rallied unit of Pandurs now move up again. Their intention is surely to advance to the left of their compatriots and so extend the screen of troops that will protect the remaining engineers as they attempt to exit, stage left.

 With the remaining engineers close to escaping, surely now is the time for the Zentan janissaries to step up and demonstrate their elite status!

The Guns of Naverhon, the Third!

The Zentan's janissary dysfunction continues. Try as the Sanjak's commander does, he just can't get his slave-soldiers up. (Below) The Albanians have moved to the edge of the wood, and they are at least on the right side of field of battle to cause some mischief to the engineers, if they can reach them.

(Below) Whilst hanging around in woods and skirmishing from a distance is probably the Albanian way, there is quite a lot of open ground to cover if they decide that it might be necessary to close with their adversaries.

The Zentans decide to open fire, and a contest of musketry begins. It's a rubbish contest, of course: Albanians versus pandurs is the military equivalent of an under ten's recorder contest. The wily Zentans then decide to switch targets and focus on the slowest of the groups of engineers. A few hits are sufficient to rout the latter and they quit the field! (Below) the surviving engineers cower behind the mercenary firing line.

The Zentans switch targets back to the enemy pandurs. As the firing continues, the accumulation of casualties begins to have an effect. (Below) One unit of Albanians recoils back into the woods. More significantly, however, the lead platoon of pandurs takes hits and then routs backwards.

(Above, right) Suddenly, there is a large hole in the Rotenburg line, and the lead element of engineers is now exposed!

The Guns of Naverhon, the Second!

Fate smiles upon the Rotenburgers; gormlessly, perhaps, but favourably, nevertheless. As the Zentan troops hang around, admiring the local scenery, the mercenaries are able to begin executing their plan; although the word 'plan' might be stretching the meaning of the speculative guesswork that underpins their activities.

(Above) The engineers start making their way off the road. Behind them, the pandurs and musketeers attempt to form a firing line; or a firing wiggle at the very least. This line will provide cover as the engineers make their way up towards the road exit.

(Below) The pandurs are masking the fire of the musketeers, of course. The musketeers use the opportunity to form a two-deep formation ready to fire by ranks.

The Zentans continue to dawdle, handing the initiative to the mercenaries. (Below) As the engineers bathe in the luxurious safety of the cover of their infantry support, the pandurs begin loosing volleys off into the woods to their front.

Most of the casualties are squirrels, of course, but the odd Albanian is also taken out. The Albanian wounded are unlikely to be well treated if they are captured by any of the woodland animals. 

(Above) On the other flank, a platoon of musketeers and the remaining pandurs form up ready to fire. The pandurs find themselves a handy wall to hide behind. Thanks to the dilatory behaviour of the Zentan janissaries, things are already beginning to look a little difficult for the Zentans. Still, there's plenty of time for the mercenaries to knock loudly upon the door of Mr Cock Up. 

The Guns of Naverhon, the First!

In the wild northern reaches of Zenta, near the village of Naverhon, we turn our gaze to a small encampment of Rotenburg mercenaries. These fellows have long been employed in the service of Hospodar Casimir, their skills being applied to the production of high technology weapons; although the term 'high technology' mainly refers to the height of what has been produced, rather than its sophistication. A prime example of this are the WMD, or 'Wagons Moste Destructive', that have been produced by adding cannons to ox carts. This blending of artillery and sub-optimal transport has had the effect of producing a weapons system that makes the cannons less accurate and the wagons slower. It has also made the ox even more truculent by giving them the self-confidence that comes from access to small-bore artillery. 

At this moment, some of the mercenary artificers are standing around one of their latest creations.

'What's this?' asks one, with interest.

''My latest creation', replies another. 

'It's very small', adds a third.

'Indeed, that's the point. It is a miniature mortar produced according to a design drawn up by my grandmother'.

'Miniature weapons designed by your grandmother?'

'Why yes - I call it "Nanotechnology"'.

This scholarly exchange of views is interrupted by the sudden sounds of drumming. Alarm! Alarm!

(Above) A little way to the east, Zentan troops seem to be approaching. By the silly cut of their caps and the sourness of their demeanor, these must be janissaries. Taken from their parents at the age of seven and then converted to Islam, these troops are just as angry as one might expect if one were looking at ex-Mittelheim children who have suddenly been prevented by their new religious strictures from drinking strong alcohol.

The general air of military indiscipline is reinforced by the arrival of some Albanian mercenaries. (Above) To describe these troops as badger-biting loonies would be to have caught them in one of their rare moments of quiet reflection. 

(Below) The Rotenburg mercenaries exit their tents and begin to try and form up.

'I don't understand', says one. 'Why are the Zentans suddenly so angry with us? I thought they liked us?'

'Hmmm', replies another. 'I had noticed the mood changing over the last day or so. Didn't you see those lasses yesterday who mouthed obscenities at us and then drew a finger slowly across their throats, before pointing at us'.

'I thought they were just saying how much they liked us', replies the first. 'My wife often does the same thing when I come back late from the tavern'.

The Rotenburg mercenaries consist of two parties of engineers, two platoons of Rotenburg Pandurs, and one platoon of Rotenburg reserve infantry. Being poor quality, ill-disciplined sweepings from the sort of prisons where even the cockroaches suffer from depression, these troops are a cut above the usual Rotenburg soldiery.

The mercenaries try and put themselves into some kind of order. (Above, right) The engineers are the key troops. In order to succeed, the engineers must exit from one or both ends of the road.

The mercenary commander decides to try and shepherd the engineers to the west. In the trees to the front, the Rotenbergers can hear the sound of angry Albanians. The is indistinguishable from just hearing the sound of Albanians. The Pandurs and infantry begin to try and form a firing line behind which the engineers can shelter. 

Meanwhile, a third platoon of Pandurs appears. They have been hanging out with the bears in the woods. It is clear that one issue of importance to the battle is whether these Pandurs can get to the scene of the fight before the janissaries do ...

 

Pie Hard Too! Pie Harder!

Fecklenburg is forced to switch from the Dijon to the English mustard to bring Prince Rupprecht around this time. After a short interlude, Rupprecht is sufficiently recovered to engage once again in sensible conversation. Or at least, what passes for sensible conversation for the Prince. Which, to be honest, isn't that sensible, but is at least somewhat more intelligible than the 'Aaaaargh!' and 'Weeeeeeeeble!' that he had previously been uttering. The wheel barrow is cleared from the room and, in an even clearer sign that Rupprecht intends to take the ensuing conversation seriously, he has undone his flies.

'Fecklenburg, there must be some positive outcomes from our enterprise in Schrote!'
'Well, sire, we have taken the bishop of Schrote'.
'But we don't like him, do we?'
'No sire - he is sly, elusive, related to King George of Fenwick, and also a Sagittarius. But, on the plus side, sire, since you were the previous Bishop of Schrote, he's bringing back the vestments that you liked so much'.
'I'll bet they're stained in ways that make them really difficult to clean'.
'He is a Catholic bishop, my lord: I think that's a given. More broadly, though, my prince, may I suggest that in attempting to resolve the unfortunate consequences of the recent campaign in Schrote, we should frame some kind of plan'. 



'A flan?' says Rupprecht, suddenly more alert.

'No sir - a plan. Because our situation, my prince, is not easily resolved through the acquisition of flans'.

'But we must have some advantages, Fecklenburg. I mean, for starters, we are gifted with my genius'.

'Yes, my lord', replies the chamberlain sagely. 'But just in case that isn't enough, we might want to seek other advantages. In truth, there are indeed some positives. Our adversary George of Fenwick isn't in an easy position. Nabstria is with us, as is Rotenburg. And in any case being king of Gelderland and emperor of Fenwick is a difficult juggling act for George'.

'Yes', says Rupprecht nodding. 'I mean, how does he keep both crowns on at once?'
'No, my lord - juggling as in he will need an effective strategy to reconcile the needs of both'.
'A strategy? Of course, well, I suppose he could wear them on alternate days'.
'No, sir: I mean 'both' as in the interests of both states, not the crowns themselves'.

'Obviously, yes, yes. But aren't the Fenwickians, you know "the Spartans of Mittelheim"? Wouldn't it be better to cleave to our traditional foreign policy approaches and sell the Nabstrians and Rotenburgers out?'
'Indeed, my lord, that is our usual way, But I don't think that George will fall for it this time. I really think that we are in the horse flop without a shovel'. 

Rupprecht mopes, but Fecklenburg tries to rally him.

'No, my prince. We should not fear this, if we are clever. History surely is on our side. For if the Fenwickians are indeed the Spartans of Mittelheim, then this conflict my lord will be as the struggle between Sparta and Athens: a struggle between brutal authoritarianism and the principles of freedom'.
'Is that a good thing?'
'Yes, sir: because history famously lays out how that conflict ended'.
'You'll have to give me a hint'.
Fecklenburg places his hand behind his back and crosses two fingers. 'Athens, sire, Athens won'.
'Excellent', he pauses. 'And which are we?'
'The latter, my lord'.
'And are the Latters friends of Sparta or Athens?'
No, 'the latter' as in the second'.
'The second what? Flan?'

Fecklenburg slows his breathing and counts silently to twenty - ten is never enough. 'My lord, I shall on your behalf send emissaries immediately to the other states of Mittelheim. We are three states now in our alliance - but more will certainly probably join!' 

'Ooh, yes!' squeals Rupprecht. 'Send one to Zenta - that might be fun!'

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Cathedral, the Sixth!

In the cathedral itself, Bishop Baldwin is deep in conversation with the captain detailed, along with a musketeer, to keep a close eye on him. The bishop, no doubt, is impressing upon his captor some apposite biblical tale of  sacrifice and redemption.

'Anyway', says the bishop, 'then I said to her, "I'll wager you haven't seen a mitre this size for quite some time - perhaps you'd like to put your hands on it!"'

The captain guffaws. 'Ah Bishop Baldwin: if I had known that service in the church were so entertaining, I might have agreed myself to join the clergy rather than forcing my younger brother'.

'Alas, my son' replies Baldwin, 'I fear that your regalia might be of insufficient size!'

'A ha ha ha', chuckles the officer. 'But, just to be clear, I think that my regalia would be quite sufficient. My staff, though not quite as curly at the end as yours, and not so covered in precious gems, has often been the wonder of many a fair maid'.

The bishop looks confused. 'Are we talking about the same thing? I'm not sure that we are'.

There is a sudden commotion at the doorway further down the cathedral. There are loud voices, and calls for the bishop.

Baldwin snorts. 'Oh, for pity's sake! It's the Spanish Inquisition again, ruining my life!'

'But - surely no one expects the Spanish Inquisition!' says the captain, in horrified tones.

'Well I bloody do!' says Baldwin. 'They're never out of here! Always barging in and ruining my life, giving it the "Fear and surprise are our greatest weapons!", and "Do this for us or we'll reveal all the details of your sordid carnal escapades"'.

'Carnal escapades?' asks the captain with interest. 'Did they involve your mitre again?'

The bishop scowls. 'Well, less "escapades" and more "encounters" really'.

'What's the difference?'

'There's less evidence to prove the latter'.

Unknown to the bishop and his guards, however, it is not the Spanish Inquisition. Instead, hurrying through the door, it is colonel Ziegler and his jager, ready for combat!

'Forward Frau!' cries Ziegler, 'we're right behind you!'

'Death before dishonour!' shouts another jager.

'Leave none alive!' cries another.

'Kill! Kill! Kill!' say several of them.

Ziegler then halts. 'Actually, let's just wait here a bit and let Frau Karlotte go on ahead'.

Karlotte sighs.

(Below) The Frau saunters forwards and encounters Friar Knowledge and Friar Conviction. The two fellows are as relaxed and engaging as one might expect of any Catholic clergy in the presence of the fairer sex. 

Friar Conviction gibbers. 'A woman! In the cathedral! She's got her elbows exposed; and look - her big milk bucket is just hanging there, swinging, backwards and forwards, where everyone can see it! Just swinging there! It is an abomination!'

'Yes', says Friar Knowledge, ogling Karlotte's ample charms, 'but, you know, I'm willing to get used to it. Or at least to try really hard. You know, in the spirit of Christian charity'.

 'Avaunt, Jezebel!' cries Friar Conviction, using his usual chat-up line with women. 'No well-shaped elbows or curvaciously capacious milk receptical will divert me from my purpose!'

'That's a nice suit of armour', says the Frau, appreciatively, pointing at Friar Conviction's bodily protection. 'Lovely workmanship'.

'Really?', says the Friar, looking down. 'Thank you. But your compliments cannot stop me from flattening your bonce with my instrument of correction!'

'I hope you are referring to your hammer', says Karlotte. 'But, nice armour though it is, next time ...', the bucket flies forward and Friar Conviction doubles up in agony ' ... you should buy some that reaches further down'.

'Gnnn!' says the friar in probable agreement.

Karlotte then looks meaningfully at Friar Knowledge. 'Out of my way baldy. I have serious work to do and no time to waste on flattening a weakling academic!'

'I am bound to die in the service of the bishop!' cries the friar. 'But, to be fair, my oath isn't specific on the exact timing: so, crack on, and I'll just wait here'.

'A wise choice', says the Frau, rushing forwards ...

Advance!

Ziegler's Headquarters: Day One, 4.40pm

Just after 4.30pm Kugel commences his furious fire. The rapidity required of the Nabstrian cannon-fire requires a switch to normal munitions. In parallel, there is vigorous drumming, shouts, and the clattering of equipment. Colonel Toplitz-Hande begins forming up his Bachscuttel battalion.

At 4.35pm, a messenger arrives from Pfannensteil reporting the movement of enemy cavalry from Schrote. He will shadow them and determine where they are going.

Toplitz-Hande sits on his horse, surveying his troops as they form up.

‘Isn’t this going to be a tad dangerous, my good Colonel?’ he asks of Ziegler.

‘What?’ replies Ziegler, applying soot to his face. ‘Forming into attack column and then conducting an extended advance in the open against enemy muskets and artillery? Well, I suppose it carries certain dangers. But I wouldn’t worry about it. It’ll be dark soon – you’ll probably get lost long before you take really heavy casualties’.

‘Well’, says Toplitz-Hande, ‘that’s a relief, then’.

‘Come on my fellows, let’s be having you!’ shouts Toplitz-Hande. In deference to the presence of artillery, the colonel forms his five companies into an open column.

At 4.40pm, as the dusk deepens, Toplitz-Hande salutes and then gives the order to advance.

At 4.40pm, in response to Pfannenstiel's intelligence, a picquet of dragoons is despatched to cover the Tinkel road and another to cover the Widenlau road. Given the gathering darkness, who knows where they will end up: the roads, possibly; or perhaps Sweden.


Hunchmausen's Headquarters: Day One, 4.40pm

Judging that the enemy have pre-empted his own attempts at a night attack, Baron Hunchmausen orders his grenadiers out of the remaining houses and into a position behind the hills. This turns out to be a wise move: between the existing fires and the renewed bombardment, the remaining dwellings are in the process of being turned into some serious fixer-uppers.

It will be dark at 5pm. In the deepening gloom, the troops in Schrote can just make out what appears to be a single battalion of enemy troops formed into column. They are probably Bachscuttelers because, helpfully, they are dressed in white. They have formed up just to the right of the western road, presumably so that they can use the road as a guide for their advance.

The column begins its march towards Schrote. The baron orders his guns to wait until the enemy column comes within medium range before they open fire. In the meantime the Ostmarck grenadier company and the other line company, both currently in reserve, are ordered to  move to support the Liebgrenadiers and guns.

The enemy column continues to advance, following the road. The defending guns get two turns of fire in before the column disappears into the inky blackness. The cannons roar, and the artillery scores some definite hits, the balls heartwarmingly skipping through the enemy ranks. The fire, however, does not appear to halt the enemy advance.

Toss Him Off!

Hunchmausen's Headquarters: Day One, 4pm.

The bishop provides no useful answer to this question. To try and jog his memory,  he is given an interesting tour of Kraftstein's work, as well as the carriage carrying the traitor Agorn. The latter spends the short visit demanding to be released, moaning that he doesn't want to go to the mountain of doom (presumably Schloss Feratu), and that being strapped to a commode is bad for his ring! But Baldwin continues to say nothing, merely maintaining a calculating look and denying any knowledge of the whereabouts of the emperor. Kraftsein sets to work on the peasant again. He reports that the peasant seems to be recovering his senses - a condition that has allowed the latter to judge more reasonably the likely effects of some of Kraftstein's sharper instruments of persuasion. The peasant reveals that he and a compatriot decided to stop at Oxfurt to swap their wagon for a pack horse. The intention was to head north from Tinkel Mill. 

North of Tinkel Mill? 'One leg good; two legs better!' Hmmm. Hanamel Farm, perhaps? A plan is immediately put into place. Rimmer will leave as soon as is practicable with his six squadrons of horse. He will head out along the road to Widenlau; then, soon after the hills, he will cut across country to the north to join the road to Hanamel Farm from Widenlau roughly where it kinks. He will then approach the village and search it. His movement will be carefully screened by scouts checking for ambuscades when going through the hills and again when he start the approach to Hanamel Farm.

At headquarters, another matter then raises its head. Since the bishop has proved to be singularly unhelpful, how bad would it be if a) Baldwin was just chucked off the other cathedral spire, or b) he had an “accident” and slipped on a well greased choirboy and broke his neck that way? Kraftein is very enthusiastic.

'Well suh, can I suh? Hain’t never done a bishop before suh; it’d be the crownin’ glory to me career that would. Not many as gets to do a Full Episcopal as they say, suh!'
'Hmmm, patience, patience my dear Kraftstein, as always your enthusiasm does you credit but the Gelderlanders are somewhat more squeamish about these things than we are' says Čzernázmije.
'But suh, I could do a BSE, as it’s yer acksherul Bishop'.
'BSE?'
'Yes, suh: a 'Bit of Something Extra' as we say in the trade. I was thinkin’ as ‘ow a straight toss off the roof is just, what? Six, mebbe seven seconds of cassock fillin’ terror for ‘is Nibs afore it’s SPLAT! And Goodnight Vienna. I mean I could loop a bit o' giblets round a gargoyle so as ‘is Reverence dis-himbowels hisself on the way down if you like suh: very popular is that back at Schloss F'.
'Ah, is that the so-called “Vulgarian Wallet”, Kraftstein?'
'Lor’ Bless yuh, no suh!' Chuckles Kraftstein, 'Yer Wallet, well that takes a couple o’ hours and sends the client to join The Choir Invisible as what in musical circles they terms a castrato'.
'Wallet, Kraftstein?'
'Well suh, a week or two of curin’ and leatherworkin’ like an’ ‘ey presto, yer keepin’ yer loose change where ‘ee use ta keep ‘is'.
Baron Hunchausen frowns. ‘So, Kraftstein, you want to take the bishop up his steeple and then toss him off? Or, engage in some kind of invisible financial swindle involving a choir?’ He thinks about this. ‘No, no – I think that that is unwise. There’s no evidence that he’s linked to the disappearance of the emperor. He seems like a reliable fellow. And also, he’s quite important. And, now I think about it, also related to the emperor’.
'At least then, sir,' says Čzernázmije, 'the Bishop should be, um, "closely protected”, especially if, as you say, he is related to The Emperor: who knows what fiendish plot may be afoot to harm him?'
‘Fair enough, Chumleywarner', says the baron. 'Give him an escort of two at all times'.

By 4pm, discussion at headquarters has turned to a final subject - a night attack on the enemy positions to the west! The baron floats the idea of sending two small forces to converge on the enemy guns with the aim of spiking them and/or capturing or destroying the artillery powder supply. One force, a squadron of hussars, with bridles and hooves muffled, would swing round on the right flank or rear of the guns, whilst the Ostmarck Regt. grenadier company (all noisy equipment left behind) would make a more direct approach to hit them at "20 past" on the front left of the guns. Hopefully, if the measurements taken from the spire are correct, the two forces would hit around the same time. Preparations begin immediately. What, after all, could go wrong?

Aeee! Waaah!

The first Vulgarian squadron passes and stands!

The second Vulgarian squadron recoils, losing nearly forty men cut down in the process!

The third Vulgarian squadron recoils!

The fourth Vulgarian squadron recoils shaken, losing 12 men in the process!

The fifth Vulgarian squadron passes!

The sixth Vulgarian squadron recoils!

No Vulgarian routs!

'What! What!' cries Pfannensteil above the hubbub. 'What rubbish and ludicrously unrealistic outcome is this!'

'Bwha ha ha!' shouts Rimmer.

Now, first and third Nabstrian squadrons, still in contact with the enemy, must test morale!

It's a dismal roll for the first Nabstrian squadron - it recoils!

It's a dismal roll as well for the third Nabstrian squadron - it recoils!

'Gnn! Bleeegh!' squawks Pfannensteil in apoplexy. 'Foul! Offside!'

'Oh Lordy and Lawks-a-mercy!' squeals Rimmer. 'We must counter-attack! Vigorously!'

But its the Nabstrians who are now first to activate with a 'Forward Boys!' card. The Nabstrian commander and one unit within 6" (which can only be the second squadron) are ready for action!

But what action will it be?

It's In The Trees! It's Coming!

Colonel Pfannensteil observes the Widenlau road from the shade of some trees. Sent to deal with a single enemy squadron that had been seen in the vicinity, he has found nothing except bucolic countryside and alcoholic picquets. 

Waiting, however, he hears hooves advancing from Schrote. Shifting position, he is able to make out a substantial body of enemy horse advancing up the road. The enemy seems to consist of about six enemy squadrons. He himself has with him the remains of his own hussar regiment. He is probably outnumbered two to one, but the enemy seem oblivious to his presence. He could try and launch an ambush, or he could discreetly withdraw. Hmmm, what to do, what to do ...

At the head of the Vulgarian force, Colonel Rimmer leads his force forwards. He has been sent here to deal with the enemy picquets that were reported to be on this road. But the road is clear, and evidently the information received on the presence of enemy horsemen was wrong. But hang on: what’s that in the … waaaaaagh!

'Chaaaarge! Hussaaaaaaaah!' shouts Pfannenstiel, these really being the only two commands in the hussar drill manual that matter. Having deployed his squadrons in line across the whole length of the wood, he directs each of them to charge into the flanks of two enemy squadrons, aiming to sweep them all away in rout through shock and surprise! The Pfannensteil hussars pour out of the forest!

There is cutting! And slashing! And grunting! The attacking Nabstrians are outnumbered two to one: but they have the advantage of surprise and attacking into flanks! In the initial clash, casualties are about even – but now the defending Vulgarians must test their morale first, with the penalty for surprise! If they break, they’re toast – or at least, some equivalent Vulgarian breakfast consumable!

The result is …

Ziegler's Headquarters, Day One ,12.10pm

At 11.45, a message arrives at headquarters from the picquet on the Widenlau road. A squadron of enemy hussars attempted to attack them. The picquet has retired successfully to the Tinkel road, without casualties. Ziegler immediately orders Pfanenstiel’s Hussars to form up and go after the enemy squadron! The hussars are organised, prepared, and then dispatched. They are ordered to proceed carefully - the aim is to get close enough to surround and destroy the enemy squadron - this means that the enemy must not realise they are outnumbered until it is too late!

Meanwhile, having ceased fire, as per Ziegler's orders, the artillery recommences a slow fire that lasts from 11.50am until 12.00. They will continue to fire in the last ten minutes of every hour, until 4.30pm, at which point they will commence a heavy bombardment - or as heavy as a 3pdr and a 6pdr can rustle up. This fire is likely, to be fair, to have a greater effect because, at 12.10pm, a wagon arrives from Humpe, accompanied by a picquet of hussars. The wagon contains Herr Odo Dodo, a blacksmith, who arrives with all the makings of an ersatz field forge. Herr Dodo evinces a considerable enthusiasm for heating things up and setting fire to stuff.

Captain Kugel holds forth on the subject of heated shot. It will take 40 minutes or so to set up the makeshift furnace, get the wood, and burn it down to white-hot charcoal. The open furnace can hold ten rounds. It takes 30 minutes to heat the shot. Obviously, as each pair of shot are used, another pair can be added. Three men are required to operate the furnace, so Dodo is helped by a pair of artillerymen. The shot is sufficiently small that it can be carried with tongs by one man. Parties of infantry are ordered to gather leaves which can be used to provide damp wadding between the powder charge and the red hot shot. Lieutenant Ludwig Brandt, who has the most expensive and accurate pocket watch, is entrusted with ensuring that the pairs of shot go onto the brazier at 5 minute intervals, so that no shot remains on the furnace for longer than 30 minutes: otherwise the shot might become misshapen and jam the barrels.

Kugel predicts that the first of the rounds should be ready at 13.30. Each gun will be able to fire one round every six minutes.

Ziegler nods enthusiastically: there's nothing quite as satisfying at making a fire, especially if the main ingredients are one's enemy's houses.

Hunchmausen's Headquarters: Day One 12.15pm!

11.20am: The enemy’s artillery fire a few more shots. The enemy battalion halt for a few minutes on the road: then, they move back to their original positions.

The baron's messenger returns from the enemy lines with the following message:

“Dear Hunchmausen,
You’re right: we all need the afternoon off - but we shall not be retiring!”

Agorn’s wagon arrives, escorted by a platoon of light troops. They report spotting on the Widenlau road an enemy cavalry picquet observing their passage (not something that could be done in Fenwick), about a quarter of a mile from the town.

Hunchmausen orders one of the light troops to accompany a squadron of hussars in an attempt to pick off the enemy picquet before it gets back to report its findings.

'That pig that I can see, Churglemurgle - send some men out to capture it', says the baron. 'Pigs are sensitive and intelligent creatures. More so than our soldiers'.

'Indeed sir', says Czernazmije, 'Although, the Vulgarian contingent of the army are very sensitive and empathetic; without empathy you don’t really know how to hurt people and it just becomes senseless violence'.

Three enterprising fellows from the Ostmarck regiment try and grab the little piggie to the front of their positions.

The enemy artillery ceases firing until 11.50, at which point they recommence their slow bombardment for ten minutes, and then cease firing again. Overall, the enemy artillery thus far have inflicted a small measure of disorder on the Ostmarck regiment which is soon remedied by the liberal application of the flats of their officers’ swords.

At 11.50am the hussar squadron returns. They have failed to grab or kill any of the enemy picquet; the picquet have fled towards the Tinkel road.

The piggie proves to have too much initiative for the Ostmarck regiment. No doubt it can also shoot better. It wanders off towards the enemy lines.

At 12.10pm, from the cathedral spire, the baron's observer reports the arrival in the Nabstrian camp of a wagon, accompanied by a few hussars. It disappears behind the hill with the enemy artillery on it. There seems to be some excitement in the camp. Many of the enemy artillery crew disappear behind the hill.

'If only we had a mortar', sighs Hunchmausen.

At 12.11, the observer in the spire spots through his telescope a body of horsemen crossing the Tinkel road, from the south west, at a distance of about a quarter of a mile. The enemy are moving cautiously and with some skill, so it isn’t clear how many of them that there might be.

Hunchmausen orders the Brense hussars and the two squadrons of the Karnstein dragoons to move out and investigate the movement of the enemy horse. 

Zeigler's Headquarters: Day One, 11am

Hunchmausen's Headquarters: Day One 10.40am

Colonel Rimmer arrives at Schrote, along with Major de la Gardie, with two squadrons of Karnstein’s Dragoons, and Major Strigoi, leading three squadrons of the Bremse Hussar Regiment. Rimmer reports that his infantry are probably fifteen or twenty minutes behind. He has received Hunchmausen's message and sent a squadron of the Bremse hussars off to Oxfurt and Kambritz, via Tinkel Bridge and Tinkel Mill. To the west, the enemy have placed two guns on a low rise just inside medium range. The remainder of the enemy forces seem to have been placed to make best use of cover. The baron orders Rimmer to take up a flank guard position out of gunshot and cannon shot range, making use of cover, and to rest his troops.

Hunchmausen's own guns each have available 200 rounds of ammunition. He instructs his artillery commander, Captain Werner Wärtzog, to hold fire until decent targets present themselves.

Zeigler's Headquarters: Day One, 11am

At 10.40, Zeigler's guns commence their fire. With a roar*, the cannon start a slow, slow bombardment, beginning with the enemy infantry.

At 10.50, a messenger arrives with a report from the picquet tasked with investigating the situation in Hanau-Brancau. The hussars encountered no enemy forces on the road there. The village seems unoccupied by enemy troops and there were few villagers to be seen. There appear to be some armed civilians on watch – perhaps half a dozen. The remaining five hussars have stayed in the vicinity awaiting further orders.

At 10.52,  a hussar arrives from the picquet on the Tinkel road. At about 10.40 a body of enemy comprising of several squadrons of horse was seen entering Schrote from the direction of Widenlau by the picquet observing that road. One squadron of enemy hussars was seen heading in the direction of Tinkel Mill. The picquet were seen by the squadron, but the enemy did not pursue.

10.55: The two companies of Jager arrive. The don’t so much march in, as insinuate themselves forwards.

11.00: The rider sent to Flossen returns. He reports that there are no villagers there to look after the wounded Bachscuttelers. The village seems indeed to have been abandoned a long, long time ago. There did seem to be some signs of recent visitors. He noted recent indications of a camp-fire.



*This is a lie, created by later writers to increase dramatic effect. The first gun actually made a small ‘put’ sound; and the other a slightly louder ‘phut’.

Retreat! Obvs!

With the Bachscuttelers disengaging faster than a man who has just found out that his fiancee is his younger brother, Baron Hunchmausen reaches the difficult decision to withdraw. With the enemy retreating so quickly, he cannot overrun them quickly enough to guarantee that the Nabstrians to the west won't arrive on his flank at some inconvenient time and ruin his fun. He makes the decision, however, to hide his jagers in the woods as retreats, hoping that they might be in a position to ambush someone.

Goethe-Nockenshoppe's Headquarters,  10.15am

'Crikey', says Hammertheim, looking through his telescope. 'The enemy light troops seem to have disappeared. And the enemy cavalry and musketeers now seem to be retreating northwards, presumably back to Schrote. What should we do Colonel Nockenshoppe?'
The colonel consders this before saying: 'Follow them up and keep them under observation but do not become seriously engaged. Send a galloper to Ziegler informing him of the enemy movements and that we are keeping them under observation'.

Hunchmausen's Headquarters, 10.15am

'Well, sir' says Czernazmije. 'It seems as if the enemy are following us as we withdraw, and keeping us under observation! Now, if only the enemy are unobservant, and our jager are as well hidden as shadows in a cupboard full of slightly darker shadows!'
'Indeed', says the baron. 'We'll have to hope that the commander of the jager is a competent fellow. What's his name again, Bumperjumper?'
'Bartoszewicz, sir, a Pole -  no stranger to action; and our jägers are all woodsmen, huntsmen with a fair smattering of poachers, so I have every confidence sir."
The baron nods. ‘Barftosservitch – yes, that’s the chap!

Goethe-Nockenshoppe's Headquarters,  10.17am

The colonel's careful advance and observation commences. After a short time, however, a sudden volley explodes from nearby woods into the vanguard of his force, a squadron of the Kreigwurst hussars! The squadron is broken and flees back to the main column, before rallying. It seems that the enemy jager had ensconced themselves in nearby woods. Clearly hiding themselves very successfully, the enemy at least were spotted at long range, and so were forced to fire prematurely, or matters might have been worse!

Hussaren von Kreigwurst
First Squadron: 76 effectives – six dead, nine lightly wounded, nine heavily wounded.

Hunchmausen's Headquarters, 10.17am

As the main part of your Hunchmausen's force continues to withdraw, there is to the rear the satisfying sound of an explosive volley of musketry! Although spotted by a vanguard of enemy cavalry at long range, the fire from the jager was still able to inflict twenty or thirty casualties on the enemy squadron, which also broke and fled. Hunchmausen is pleased, but orders the jager to retire speedily, making best use of the ground between the wood and Schrote. The hussars return to aid their withdrawal.

Goethe-Nockenshoppe's Headquarters,  10.18am

'Ambush! Bah!' grumbles the colonel. 'Keep at a distance and keep them under observation. Send a rider to the village of Flossen - get the villagers to tend to the wounded. Send a picquet to scout out Hanau-Brancau and report back on whether it is occupied by the enemy'.

Zeigler's Headquarters, 10.27am

A messenger arrives from Colonel Nockenshoppes at 10.20. He acknowledges Zeigler's message of 9.55. He has encountered an enemy force consisting of a battalion at least of regular infantry, supported by jager, and a regiment of enemy cavalry. He intends to move northwest towards Humpe.

Another messenger arrives from Colonel Nockenshoppes at 10.27, sent originally at 10.10. The enemy are now withdrawing. His forces will follow cautiously, keeping them under observation, and join with Zeigler's forces at Schrote.

Slugging it Out!

Baron Hunchmausen's hussars advance to his left. The intention is to try and  pin the enemy but counter-charge if attacked.

The baron's jager arrive on the track. He orders them to work their way round to the right. Hopping off the road, they begin pushing through the trees. The dragoons have already moved off ahead. The Ostmarck battalion then arrives.

The Gelderland dragoons push forwards rapidly, taking up a position at the bottom of the low hill, and hemming in the Bachscuttel troops. They are, however, outside of charge range at this stage.

Surveying the situation, Colonel Goethe-Nockenshoppes reaches a typically Bachscuttel conlusion - to scuttle backwards. 'Pull back!' he orders. 'Disengage!'. He intends to move north east in the direction of Humpe (ie towards the main force), retiring in stages by squadrons and companies. He gives explicit orders to avoid contacting the enemy.

'Hmmmm', says Baron Hunchmauson. 'Chumpbumpy, those Bachscuttelers are suddenly surprisingly agile'.
'It's Czernazmije, sir', says Czernazmije. 'And indeed, sir, from being more sluggardly than a sluggish slug, they now have really got a wiggle on'.
'Like a wiggly slug', says the baron.
'Indeed, sir. If such a thing exists'.

 

'Excellent!' says Colonel Goethe-Nockenshoppes. 'I didn't realise that the men had it in them!'
'Indeed, colonel', says Lt Colonel Klaus von Hammertheim, 'Sometimes, all the men need is an opportunity to take what's inside, and then get it out, and wave it around a bit'.
'It is the Bachscuttel way, Hammertheim. Now, have you answered the message that we received from Colonel Zeigler?'
'Yes, sir, I did'.
'Excellent'.
'Also, I scented the message with some cologne'.
Nockenshoppes considers this. 'Does that set the right tone, Hammertheim?' he asks finally.
'We may be at war, colonel, but we are still gentlemen'.
'Yes, but it was a military message, Hammertheim - I wasn't asking him out to dinner'.
'Well, sir - you never know'.

Herge's Adventures of 10.10!

... charge carelessly forwards! Huzzah! Zeigler guesses that the enemy is clearly outnumbered and is attempting to cover this fact through furious activity. His view is that the enemy squadron’s horses will now be blown and unable to resist a combined charge by two regiments of horse! 'Advance on Schrote!' cries the colonel, and orders the hussars and dragoons to clear away the enemy! If anything, then, Kinski's force has encouraged the advancing Nabstrians to speed up. Cursing, Kinski orders his little force to retire quickly. As this is happening, events elsewhere are unfolding.

Hunchmausen's Headquarters, 10.10

Secure in the knowledge that Kinski will have slowed the enemy advance from the west, the baron prepares his troops for the attack on the Bachscuttelers advancing from the southwest. The cavlry set of immediately at high speed. The jägers follow, preceding the line troops, on the basis they may be a bit faster and able to deploy out into formation quicker or into cover. His guns remain in Schrote, being carefully positioned to cover the enemy approach and having gabions fashioned or other protections created. Leading the bulk of his immediate forces out to the southwest of Schrote, Hunchmausen soon encounters the enemy troops advancing from Redderblau Hill, at a position less than a quarter of a mile from the town. Riding furiously, his five squadrons of cavalry have arrived at the enemy first. His light troops and regulars will follow on behind.

The hussars deploy to the left of the track, the dragoons on the right of it.

The hussars will advance toward the enemy squadron on the hill by way of the field ahead and to their left if passable, swinging round to deploy between the wood and the single tree, with the hill to their rear. The dragoons will advance ahead to the hill and deploy between the first hedge and up the hill.

Nockenshoppe's Headquarters, 10.10

Advancing from Redderblau Hill and pushing to within a quarter of a mile of Schrote, the Bachscuttel light troops and cavalry, under the command of Colonel Goethe-Nockenshoppes, encounter what looks like a force of enemy cavalry. A scouting squadron on the hill to the right determines that the enemy cavalry are being followed by infantry, although the enemy force does not seem so much larger than his own. The light troops will follow on immediately behind the hussars.



As an advanced guard with no main body behind him, the colonel decides that his role is to screen, observe, but not become seriously engaged. He will push his light infantry into the wood to his left. The hussars will deploy into line of battle but will not advance beyond the cover of the light infantry’s muskets. Nockenshoppe's determines that he will hold position until pressed, and then retire by squadrons and companies.

Zeigler's Headquarters, 10.10

The enemy hussars fall back in front of Zeigler's advancing cavalry. To the west, sounds of sustained musketry commence! 'Push on!' declares Zeigler. 'It sounds as if an engagement has begun with the Bachscuttel advanced guard - the main body must come to their assistance!'

A Faint Feint!

At Baron Hunchmausen's headquarters, Czernazmije taps the map and says:
'…. we attempt to overwhelm the smaller southwesterly force before the enemy main body arrives'.

The baron nods. 'I like it, Zebrabebra - it's bold; it's ballsy; and, if it goes wrong, it's your idea and not mine!'
Orders are issued swiftly. Apart from a squadron of hussars to screen the main enemy force approaching from the west, all the remaining hussars and the dragoons, supported by the Jägers and Ostmarck Battalion, will attempt a swift strike southwestwards before the enemy can organise properly. “G for Gelderland!”

Much of the success of the plan will depend upon the hussar squadron that will confront Zeigler's force. This squadron will seek to trick Zeigler into deploying out of march column and into battle array. In order to do so, it has been ordered to feint a feint. The force will try to give the appearance of wanting to lure Zeigler's force into a trap. It will approach nearer, then very obviously turn tail, pausing to see if the enemy are following and if not trying again. To aid matters, it turns out that the squadron commander, Major Kinski, is a leading light of the Gelderland Light Cavalry Operatic Society. Obviously, the hope is that Zeigler will assume that a large enemy force is lying in wait somewhere to his front.

Zeigler's Headquarters, 10.05am

A galloper returns from Pfanensteil. The colonel reports that his forces were initially pursued from Schrote by a superior force of enemy horse. This pursuit then stopped. He has now been contacted by what seems to be a single squadron of enemy hussars.

Even as Zeigler reads the message, his force arrives at Pfanenstiel's position. Pfanenstiel reports that the small enemy force has launched a series of furious charges, but each time has then suddenly retreated before contact to its current position near the hill.

Zeigler considers his options. An enemy squadron, all on its own, trying to encourage his forces to charge hell-for-leather into a careless charge forwards? It can mean only one thing ...