Shadows of the Night, The Battle of the Blutiger Bach

 

       Emmanuel Costanza, Duke of Brie, looked with satisfaction as his troops drew up into formation. Turning to his aide-de-camp he smiled, "Did you enjoy your breakfast?" the youth nodded nervously, "That is well, for I'm afraid that we shall miss Lunch and are most likely to be late for Dinner. The enemy has claimed the heights and we will have our day's work set before us to drive them off" he motioned to the dark formations along the hilltop that the light of dawn was slowly revealing. "Have our Freedonian allies shown up?" he inquired.

         "No, they are still hours away, your majesty", the aide-de-camp squinted into the murky darkness to the west, "They seem to lack a sense of urgency".

          The Duke leaned toward him with a conspiratorial grin, "Frankly I don't trust them and would be happy to claim this day without their help. They seem to think that the land they help us liberate will be theirs in the end", he urged his steed forward, "Let us examine the enemy's position more closely".

Let It Burn!

the Ferndalian plan for 1620

       Disgusted with his ministers and the failures of his Intelligence services Peter the Famished pounded his fist on the table and shouted once more, "Damn the North! Let It Burn! We have advanced thus far and I will not be distracted by the Freedonian adventurers and the turbulent Frozonians. After we capture the capital we can mop up those fools." He looked up at the cowering courtiers and asked in a darkly threatening tone, "Do any of you have something worthwhile to tell me?". The Minister of War exchanged glances with the Finance Minister, "Well , Your Majesty, I have good news from the west". Peter leaned back in his chair smiling vicously, "Do tell, my faithful servant", he enjoined.
         Igor Mankowski had served as Peter's Minister of War long enough to have learned that it was best to lead with the bad news. He had let the others broach the subject of the Frozonian atrocities and the failure of Boozonia to keep the Freedonians out of their lands before he began his dissertation. "Your Highness knows of the attack on the bridge of boats, a surprise to say the least. But meaningless in the larger picture as we had already resupplied the portion of the capital that the Small-Platers control. The attack stripped out a significant portion of the garrison of the northern third of the capital, it is now held by a skeleton force and we will likely be able to capture it by assault instead of a lengthy siege". He unrolled a large map across the table showing in detail the area around the Gluttonian capital, "Their infantry fled downriver in the pontoons, their cavalry is scattered to the winds while their Freedonian allies wander the swamps of our northern provinces"
        Peter held up his hand, Mankowski instinctively paused, "How long before the Proper Mealers can organize a response?" the King queried.
         "Given the distances they will need to march, three to five weeks", Mankowski's index finger stabbed the map at the location of the Gluttonian Proper Mealer winter quarters, "They are badly out of place, do doubt expecting that their friends northern adventure  would  keep you distracted".
        The King leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he traced the path of the roads to the capital, "Deliver me unto that city and I will make you Duke of all the lands that fall to our swords this year" his voice was like the purr of a beast of prey. He leaned back in his chair, "Now go! Deliver me victories! I need to be freed of this lunatic Prince who has been wandering my palace; get him a throne of his own!"
        Minister of War Mankowski smiled as he walked down the hall to his office, "Duke eh? Of all the lands that fall to our sword?" he thought as he walked into his private chambers and looked at the wall map with the dispositions of the Ferndalian armies, "Well then, I will be almost a King myself, and Hanz will be Emperor of nothing"  he laughed quietly to himself then whispered, "Emperor Igor Mankowski The First".........

the (proposed) Grand Duchy of Mankowski

Nowhere To Run.......The Great Raid on Camembert

         Tadeusz Podolski looked up from the document that he was reading and squinted at his brother,  Krzysztof, "Are you sure of this?" he asked, his voice loaded with anticipation. Krzysztof smiled, "Yes, we found that in a local post office just a day ago". The document in question was a invitation to a local Ferndalian noble to attend a Grand Cotillion at the Summer Palace of Peter the Famished on the 23rd of July, Anno Domini 1620 in Camembert. "But we have only a week to get there", Tadeusz worried.  Krzysztof patted him on the shoulder, "We are just over 120 versts away, three days journey without tiring the horses and we can capture the oppressor himself. Think of the fame! Think of the freedom! Think of the prestige! Frozonia will be forever independent, our father's dream will at last become true". 

       Tadeusz felt his pulse quicken at the thought but, ever the cautious planner, he unrolled a map of northern Ferndalia, "Show me again your proposed route". As his brother pointed out the plan of action and described the different inbound and return trips he felt the confidence grow in his mind. "Take the whole army except the levies, we will make a great show of activity with the Husarska trainees along the northern approaches to distract Ferndalians. Return victorious!" He reached out and they shook hands, "For Father!" he proclaimed, "For Frozonia" he brother returned.

Good Times, Bad Times....The Destruction of the Bridge of Boats, July 12th, 1620AD

a contest of conflicting plans

       The siege of central Vienee had gone on since December, the city managed to hold on to some of the surrounding farmlands and was able to gather supplies from there but, by the time Spring had arrived, things were truly desperate. Butter and heavy cream for making sauces were in short supply. White flour for pastries was nearly gone. Most spices were nigh unto impossible to find and even sausages were rising in price. Surrender was looking more and more like the only remaining option.

       Enter the hero, Victor von Hastenburg, the First Imperial Engineer of Ferndalia, he convinced Peter the Famished that as the Small-Platers controlled the eastern shore of the Upper Gluten River they should build a bridge of boats across and supply the city by that route. Many scoffed at his idea, the river being nearly 3/4 of a mile wide at that point. Von Hastenburg swore it could be done and wagered to pay for the bridge himself if the attempt failed. Faced with such confidence (and suffering no loss if the effort came to naught) Peter gave his approval.  Von Hastenburg set to work and had the bridge assembled and in operation by the end of May despite the problems raised by The Plague. The capital was saved!

       The Proper-Mealers were blissfully unaware of all this until a cavalry patrol pushing down the north bank of the spotted the vast span reaching across the river . They were chased away by the Small-Platers but the cat was out of the bag. Many stratagems were employed to try to break the bridge, first a barge laden with combustibles was launched downstream but that was diverted by the stalwart Small-Plater guard boats. Next an intrepid crew of soldiers drifted downstream on a foggy night with axes intending to cut the hawsers holding the bridge in place, this time they were thwarted by the bells that the engineers had craftily hung on the ropes, the ringing of the bell brought the guard boats out again. Eventually it was decided  that only a proper expedition would be able to capture the end of the bridge and cut it loose from it's moorings. A force of cavalry and fast-marching infantry was assembled from the garrison of North Veinee and sent down the Old Post Road (a little-traveled byway that hoped to bypass the enemy's cavalry patrols).  All would have been well except for one small detail, a spy in the boarding house of the Proper-Mealer officers. The shoe would be on the other foot, the Proper-Mealers would not be executing a surprise attack, they would be walking into a trap. 

The Army of Free Frozonia

the core of the Frozonian army, the famous Winged Hussars

       Tiny, but fierce and famously independent, the reborn army of the Seventh War of Frozoniain Emancipation has at it's center the battle-dominating Winged Hussars. Drawn from the landed gentry each Hussar competes with all the others for splendor, heroism and fame. Like the ancient Vikings they consider dying in battle to be this highest honor to which a man can aspire. Hussars are accompanied by the vassals from their estates who serve in large units of levies, they lack a great deal of martial skill but can control areas of the battle field by their sheer numbers and considerable staying power. Other Freemen serve as well; those wealthy enough to own horses serve in the famed Lisowczycy Light Horse, scouting ahead of the army and harassing the enemy's flanks during battles. Humble Freemen serve on foot in the Haiduks, fierce warriors that combine their muskets with heavy bardische axes (used as musket rests when shooting). These nimble soldiers can scout rough terrain and move freely about the battlefield hunting for opportunities to discomfit the enemy.The individual units of the army can be quite powerful but this force is very sensitive to casualties given the small population that it is drawn from.

      Commander In Chief  Grand Hetman Tadeusz Podolski               Rank 5

          Second in Command   Hetman  Krzysztof Podolski         Rank 4

           Andrzej Seweryn   Hetman of the Hussars                      Rank 4

           Krzysztof Kieslowski                                                       Rank 3
           Dariusz Michalczewski                                                    Rank 3

           Zbigniew Boniek Hetman of the Lisowczycy                  Rank 3
           Adam Malysz                                                                   Rank 3

          Andrzej Golota    Hetman of the Foot                               Rank 3
          Czeslaw Milosz                                                                 Rank 3

                  The Winged Hussars; six units of Husarska
                  The Lisowczycy          seven units of Organized Lisowczycy with pistols
                  The Haiduks                four unit of Well Equipped Veteran Haiduks with Halberds
                  The Levy                     Two units of Well Equipped, Large, Obedient Levies without pikes


         With the stunning success of the early days of the campaign more men are expected to join the colors soon , but for now, these men are sword and shield of Frozonia.
           

Wild Horses.....but more appropriately; Winged Hussars!

       Tadeusz Podolski looked up from his desk at the dusty messenger that had just clattered into his courtyard and rushed into his house. The Governor of Frozonia had received far too many hurried messages of bad news in the last three months but his expression softened when he realized that it was his young nephew, Kazimierz. "Well, what brings my favorite nephew to my house in such a hurry on this fine day?" The young man made a concerted effort to compose himself as he straightened his uniform and drew an envelope from his jacket pocket. With deliberate formality he bowed and presented the envelope to his uncle.

        Tadeusz reached out and took the proffered packet from his nephew with a quizzical look. Turning it over he saw that it bore the seal of his brother, but not the seal of the Commander of the Fortress of Druhzba, but instead the seal of the family Poldolski. "So this personal message had to be sent with great haste?" he asked his nephew, "Has the plague claimed another of our House?" He saw his nephew's eyes widen slightly and a faint flicker of a grin dance across his face, "No sir!" he replied smartly. "I believe that you will be a happy recipient of this news, But my father forbade me from telling you, he desired to be the one that broke the news to you, Sir!"

         Tadeusz raised one eyebrow then looked back down at the packet as he slid his thumb under the wax seal and broke it open. He carefully open the letter and began to read it. His eyes narrowed and he stood up so suddenly that his chair flew across the room,  he looked up at Kazimierz with a smile of joy spreading across his face, "Is this true? he asked in an incredulous tone, This isn't some sort of cruel joke, is this really true?" The boy returned his smile, "Yes, Uncle, it is! As real as the sunrise!"

         Tadeusz threw back his head and laughed for joy, "After all these years, and all those broken promises, they have finally come to our aid!" He turned to the credenza next to his desk and picked up a bottle of vodka, "We drink!" He shouted, "We drink to a free Frozonia, the Freedonians have finally marched to our aid!" He pulled out the cork and took a long draught before passing the bottle to his nephew. "You will have the chance to earn your wings before the week is out lad, Free Frozonia!"

        The other half of Louis the Ravenous' foreign policy had fallen into place. Not only had Louis invaded Ferndalia via Boozonia, he had managed to convince the recently reconquered Frozonians to join him in his attack on the Ferndalian Northern Marches. He knew that the Frozonians chafed under harsh rule of the House of Whey and would need little prompting to rise up and try to re-establish their ancient freedoms. He counted on that desire to persuade the Frozonians to put an army into the field in Peter's rear and ease the task of his own invading army. Let us see how that turned out....

Take Me To The River.... The Battle of Belmas

the blue line reflects the march of the Freedonian Army through neutral Boozonia

        In an outrageous act of aggression the Freedonain army marched through plague-stricken Boozonia to attack Ferndalia, Using secretly placed supplies they were able to keep up a blistering marching pace that made any response by the Boozonian army impossible. The Boozonian Lord High Constable, Gordon Ramsey, has ordered the Freedonian Ambassador to report to his office to answer an Inquiry as to these events, additionally he has closed the border with Freedonia.
       Upon debouching into the northern plains of Ferndalia the Freedonians found only local border-guards and militia opposing them. These troops were mostly viewed as an inconvenience. Resistance grew over time as the local Governors frantically gathered troops and ordered the burning of bridges and supplies to slow the Freedonian advance. At the tiny market town of Belmas the ancient stone bridge defied attempts to blow it up and the Ferndalians were forced to turn and confront their invaders.
         Having no time to file the troops across the narrow bridge the Ferndalians were forced to turn and fight. With a force of local militia, supported by a moldering cannon found on an estate, two units of Regular Foote and two brigades of Cuirassiers that had rushed to the scene from the Capitol they formed a line across the path of the invaders advance. Their flanks were guarded by two rivers that joined just behind their position, but this also meant that the only means of escape was that lone bridge to their left rear. Snacks and sandwiches were distributed along the line by the Students of the Culinary Academy, along with the last of the remaining ammunition. This would be a desperate fight indeed!
         The foot-sore soldiers of Louis the Ravenous were happy to see the enemy finally stop and face them. They had been marching almost non-stop for the last week and a half and were in a mood for a good brawl. They could scarcely believe their luck that the enemy chose to fight on this side of the bridge rather than retiring to defend the far bank. As the morning fog lifted they could see the serried ranks of the enemy across the battlefield, they were happy for the full breakfast they had just enjoyed but were concerned that lunch was unlikely to be served on time.
      This game was played using the Tercio rules from Liber Militium.

Gimmie Shelter.........A Naval Scenario

       At last we return to the gaming table! Huzzah! We rejoin the ongoing conflict in Epicurea to find that the Ferndalians had taken advantage of the disruption caused by the plague to isolate the island of Pinatella with an eye to starving it into submission. Late word of this came to the ears of Louis the Ravenous and he demanded that action be taken forthwith. Two galleons were prepared and loaded with extra troops and supplies and sent off to rescue Pinatella. As they approached the island they were spotted by the Ferndalian blockade squadron and a bitter battle ensued. we played the game using the "Ship of the Line"/"Wooden Ships and Iron Men" rules system with modifications for free movement, the scale difference and the earlier period. We used my fleet of 1/350th scale ships from Zvezda for the game, you can see how I built these over on my regular gaming blog Anton's Wargame Blog.

the scenario, the Freedonian squadron (lower right of the picture) sails resolutely onward while the Ferndalian squadron hurries to engage the enemy outside of the range of the fort's guns

The tiny island of Pinatella

       Not being able to advance the campaign because my State is in a condition of imprisonment I sought to amuse myself by building a 1/350 scale starfort to go with the 1/350th scale fleet that I have been building for the naval side of the campaign. Things spun out of control (as they so often do when I start a terrain project) and I ended up with a starfort and the island it guards. Now I'm tempted to expand the mission and build a few port cities as well.

       This is the tiny island of Pinatella, valued for its fine harbor and fresh water supply it is located off the southwestern end of Mindoro. As such it is perfectly situated to monitor traffic moving along the southern passages and has been fought over from time immemorial. It has an old crusader fort and a splendid new starfort to guard the harbor. The unusual shape of the island comes from the fact that it is the collapsed caldera of an ancient volcano. The soft volcanic tuff stone captures and hold rainwater making this tiny island an excellent source of fresh water.

       It is the personal property of the Royal House of Freedonia. As such the King likes to keep his political enemies locked up in the old Crusader Castle (known locally as the "Black Tower", both for its appearance and its reputation!).

       I had a few hours free so I finished the job

Plague Year!!!

Woe Betide Us All!

         It began in the very early Spring, as the recruiters spread across the countryside looking to hire soldiers for the coming campaigns. A cough, a sniffle, a fever and soon thousands were swept away in a tide of misery. Borders were closed, economies collapsed, trade ceased but the casualty count kept going up.
        Authorities tried everything imaginable without any noteworthy success and soon fell to bickering about blame. This did little to comfort the sick or grieving. Experts had many ideas, some of which worked some of the time, but no certain cure was found. 
       Then the Plague began to fade, creeping away carrying its stolen souls into the darkness. The stunned survivors were left to try to mend their hearts and hearths, to try to pick up the pieces and return to normal burdened with the sombre knowledge that, despite their science and civilization, a silent invisible killer could sweep them away unbidden and unexpectedly.

         My sincere condolences to any and all that have suffered the loss of a loved one or been thrown into poverty through this pandemic. Hopefully we have all learned something through this trying time.

The Origins of the Hamburger Heresy

 

what is a sausage without it's skin?

       In the days before the Battle of Hamburger in the year 1619 a cavalry raid took place far to the flank of the assembling armies. It was nothing more than a small force of horse with orders to interdict enemy supplies. Capture what you can, burn or spoil the rest. A simple enough mission but, in this case, fraught with potentialities.
        As it was, the horsemen found a train of wagons loaded with barrels. Inside those barrels were miles of brined animal intestine; the sort of thing used as casing for sausages. Thinking that the casing would be slow to move and of little value they broke the barrels and burned the wagons before driving away the farmers and stealing their horses. A small thing in the greater scope of the war one would think. But not in this case, the simple act of vandalism gave birth to a much larger controversy. The Hamburger.
        Those barrels belonged to an enterprising merchant who had bought up all of the casing for miles around and then struck a deal to deliver sufficient casing to provide both armies with sausage to their troopers. Sausage was a staple food in both armies; otherwise unpalatable meat could be mixed with binder and spice and provide a satisfying meal to a Proper Mealer trooper, or could be tucked into a split loaf of bread for snacking by a Small Plater. The merchant stood to get rich if he could only deliver the supplies to the attendant chefs. Then this disaster struck!
         On the day before the battle the chefs had gotten up early and begun grinding the meat, adding the spices and binder and allowing the mix to age slightly before preparing to push it into the sausage filling machines. But alas! No casing arrived! Frantic messengers were sent in search of the missing shipments. The countryside was combed through for the missing merchant (who, upon hearing of the raid had high-tailed it out of the area and caught ship for distant lands!). All that was found was the stinking burnt remains of the wagons and their load.
       Needless to say the chefs were desperate. The meat, which could have been made into a stew or soup, was already ground, mixed and aged. It would have to be cooked and served in some way or the troops would go into battle hungry with a concomitant reduction in morale (neither side knew that the opposition was in the same sorry circumstances). By a bizarre set of circumstances chefs on both sides came up with the same resolution to the crisis. Form the meat into patties and then grill it over a flame. The Small Platers served thin patties inside biscuits with cheese and onions atop the meat. The troops, at first suspicion of the arrangement, came to like the repast and nicknamed them "Sliders". The Proper Meal cooks, looking to replace the missing meat in the third course, molded the ground flesh to replicate the shape of a steak, christening the product "Chopped Steak". The troops took to it readily remarking that it was far tastier and easier to chew than the army's usual version of steak which had earned the nickname "Old Boot".
           These emergency measures were cast aside by the chefs as soon as supplies of casing could be located and proper sausages could be made; but troopers on both sides began to inquire about the "Hamburger" a name popularized by it's association with the town that also gave it's name to the subsequent battle. They began to sneak away and grind their own meat into patties and prepare it upon hastily constructed grills of greenwood branches (which they claimed gave the meat a particular flavor depending on the wood used). Efforts were made on both sides to quash this new source of dissension, but the tastes of the soldiers were not to be denied. Secret groups began assemble away from the camps or barracks for what the soldiers glibly referred to as "cookouts" and an entire sub-culture developed around this habit. To confuse the authorities seeking to suppress this heresy the soldiers used the code word "barbecue" (a bit of verbal nonsense designed to sow confusion) when speaking of such assemblies.
         From small things such new controversies are born!