It was a blazing morning in central Spain. Brigadier Sir Albert Winklepicker survayed his three battalions waiting in line his 3 gun 9 lbr battery central on a rise.
Dragoons cantered about in two troops on each flank to the rear.
"Hot work,Snobworth!" He snorted at his ADC as they gazed over the rolling hills of Kallistra,near the valley of Hexon2."D'ye think theyll stand?"
Major Snobworth, 4 months previously a playboy of the english court was regretting spending 5000 pounds on buying a commission and bribing a majoracy. He took a pinch of snuff.
"Sir Albert, I have faith by almighty God, who I invoke to smite the heathen catholic ,(actually atheist now since the revolution),French with boils or instant death, but failing his intervention which seems more probable, I think the south Perryshires will stand and hold our left, But the 2nd North Vitrix? Sire they are untried, yesterday they were but grey untested troops"
The rumble of cannon signaled the french opening the ball and in a flurry of wasted roundshot the British Artillery remained unscathed from the French 12 lbrs.
The French advanced on a broad front with Voltmetres extended ahead and screening the advance.
Two Ligne battalions faced off Winklepickers leftmost flank battalion and five battalions faced the other 3 British units in line and one in column in reserve.
The British artillery pounded at the French Chevals au Chassis moving in front of them. Within moments they were rent to ruin and wheeled threes about , running from the Field. The Frogs were now without horse.
Winklepicker snapped shut his scope.
"Hard pounding gentlemen, let us see who pounds the longest"
Snobworth rolled his eyes."As Lady Winklepicker said the EXACT same thing last night sire"
The British Rifle company in extended order slipped round the back of the Voltys and skirmished with the advancing Frog Column. This left the British line to cut down the voltgiers in a flurry of sustained mufketry. As the Voltgears wavered they were driven away by a feint charge of Drag Goons.
On the left Two columns of frenchies playing "Old Shorts" hammered out their kettledrums, which were nearly boiled with milk and two sugars. They smashed into the british right battalion who foolishly left out their light company and only a countercharge of Drag Goons would save them.
Or as it turned out , no it wouldnt. The french took severe casulties as they stomped in, but both columns struck the line despite artillery pounding them.
"A difficult time Snobs…Let us hope that the Vitrix stand?"
In a nutshell they reeled back in good order but pressed back against the boiling lava filled river of Tabledge.
The British left was more succesful, steady robotic fire smashed into the frenchy columns and despite little room to manouver the Second Drag goons positioned themselves for a flank charge. The combat could go either way.
"Port Sir?" asked Snobworth.
"Aye and signal close action!"
"WFT?" asked Snobworth.
"Ahh,sorry m'Lad, thought we were naval gaming here."
The Smashed british right and stalled left seemed to spell the end of the British effort.
then The finest Cavelry in Europe. Well…OK, a bunch of middle class over enthusiastic Torys ripped into the flanks of the advancing Garlic munching line. In deverstating combats they scattered the french despite their massive outnumbering.
Winklepicker mused. " Tis not war Snobwoth, Tis crappy dice rolling"
As the british lights hammered at the french artillery, the Mighty and Invincible Brit Horse ripped apart the Dammnable Regicidal French lines. Once again showing that only British pluck could save the world from despotism.
Truly Brittania ruled the field and The french could remorse their silly attempt to chgange the Ancien Regeime.
For it is a constant of war. The side that rolls 3 double sixes in a game shall prevail.
gets his hands on some fields and fences.
