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Just a heads up that the the May edition of Wargames Illustrated has a feature on the next version of the Napoleonic Skirmish rules from Too Fat Lardies.
(19-02-2016, 02:11 PM)Stuart Wrote: [ -> ]Just a heads up that the the May edition of Wargames Illustrated has a feature on the next version of the Napoleonic Skirmish rules from Too Fat Lardies.

My good lady subscribed me for 12 months for my birthday - and you get a £25 voucher for Warlord Games, so Big GrinCool
Hmmm, might need to resubscribe I think! There's a good variety of material in there since they became independent from Battlefront.
(19-02-2016, 02:50 PM)Stuart Wrote: [ -> ]Hmmm, might need to resubscribe I think! There's a good variety of material in there since they became independent from Battlefront.

I am still reading current issue - Battles/Wars that never were... all good stuff.

Reminds me I quite fancied adding some of those 'SteamPunk (?)' machines and 'zombie' figures to BoltAction...

Maybe later... ...meantime very close to having my initial CoC Platoon completed.
Winter 1809

Colonel Stewart looked around at his command. 5 ragtag battalions, tasked with stopping the French from catching the retreating British Army.
Commands had gone out, turn and face.
" This is it boys, let's show these crapauds how we fight in Scotland."
His regiment, the Black Watch cheered and waited.
Stewart glanced to his left, noting the half battalion of Portuguese Cascadores his themselves in the folds of the ground. To their left was a small wood, which Stewart knew hid some Rifle men from the 60th .
Just behind that the record of the South Essex, then some 95th rifles. The Left flank was protected by some more Cascadores. Then he noticed just to their right and about 100yds nearer the French was a battalion of Portuguese line infantry.
" Keen buggers ain't they? McPherson,  compliments to their commanding officer, but would they leave some frogs for the rest of us and take up a position further back".
Looking back towards his front , he could now see the first French battalions advancing,  the drums beating a steady rhythm. All along the allied line weapons were brought up into the shoulder.
A crash erupted on the left as the Portuguese opened fire on a battalion that had appeared right in front of them. The French fired too, both units disappearing in a cloud of smoke.
Someone swore in his own unit, and then he saw why. 3 battalions were facing his. Unfair odds, but he was unlikely to even the fight by sending half his battalion away.
More firing now all across the line.
The Rifles and the Cascadores taking the French with the more accurate rifles. Casualties were now being moved out of both opposing lines, sergeants pulling men to close the gaps,  making it appear as if the battalions were shrinking towards the middle.
An aide pointed to the rear left, where horsemen appeared out of the go
hills. The Cascadores on that flank scurried towards them, letting loose carefully aimed shots, effectively neutralizing the threat.
In the centre the South Essex about faced and moved into the village in support. 
The Portuguese regiment were now in trouble , shuffling backwards, their commanding officer killed in the opening exchange.
On the right the Black Watch,  Rifles and Cascadores kept up a withering fire, one French battalion first withdrawing then routing through the remaining forces.
More troops were coming through the hills, hitting the killing zone of the Cascadores, before managing to face the threat. The Hussars that had come on previously turned and ran out of rifle range.
The French to the British front had been stopped, men refusing to move forward into the deadly British fire.
Now a new battalion moved forward to face the Scots, Napoleons young Guard. A worthy opponent indeed.
Orders rang out and the British line edged backwards into the village.
Cutting them off from the bridge and safety were now another 2 battalions of infantry and some Dragoons.
The fight now looked like it might turn in favour of the French.
Now was the time for brave men , and the South Essex didn't disappoint,  finally getting into the fight and pouring lead into the Dragoons and Germans. Ably supported by Rifles and Cascadores they held the village. The Pi
Portuguese managed to retreat out of range of the French, as some Cascadores covered them, the French not inclined to follow.
The day was now Stewart's. The French had lost all enthusiasm for the fight and melted back into the hills.
The rearguard could now retire in good order and remain the remaining allied forces.
Spring 1810

George was not happy. An Ensign in the Portuguese army, life, recently had been good. He commanded a detachment of Cascadores, and along with some Portuguese line infantry had been tasked with guarding this bridge which sat on the border with Spain. Most days they were costed by officers from the French battalion positioned across the river in Spain. Articles and gossip was exchanged and a pleasant day had, as the war passed them by. In fact George had a cask of Port he had promised in exchange for some decent French wine.
But today the Gods and Command had conspired against him. Headquarters had decided to sent a Spanish Regiment across the bridge, to have the honour of being the first to regain Spanish soil. With them had come some babysitters, a detachment of Black Watch, some Rifles and a battalion of redcoats.
George had also crossed the bridge, and watched the preposterous Spaniards , in their garish uniforms parade up the pasture.
Movement and a reflection caught his eye, and he could make out the arrival of the French. They stopped at the edge of the pasture, obviously surprised to see a new regiment. They formed line and brought their weapons into the salute, as a mark of respect.
Spanish officers could be heard shouting, as they brought their muskets to the shoulder. Then the day went bad as the Spanish opened fire..
Around George everyone went silent, not believing what they had just witnessed. The French were no threat, But now the war had crept into the quiet.
It Stu , with the Black Watch cursed, then rapidly spat out orders, in English and Spanish.
The South Essex moved forward, extending into line. The Rifles disappeared into a rocky outcrop on the left flank.
George blew his whistle, and his men made for a hill on the right. More movement to his right made him look up.Another French battalion appeared in line.
That evened the odds. The Spanish were now in full retreat, not a bad thing as if the French got them it would be a political disaster. This left the small half company of Black Watch on their own in the centre. With disciplined precision they fired, reloaded and fired again.
The French advanced in both sides, holding fire at this extreme range.
The British moved forward, pushing the Spanish behind them. They now formed a firing line, hoping to make a stand.
It Stu now noticed Redcoats forming on his right and Green jackets to his left. Cascadores anchoring the right flank.
One of the French battalions fired, musket balls ripping into the British line, casualties dropping from each unit.
The Allied skirmishers with their longer ranged weapons, were now taking a toll on the French, an officer taking a bullet through his throat.
The second French battalion fired too, but to no great effect.
The British concentrated on the one battalion, forcing in back and back, littering the pasture with the dead and dying.
The second French battalion continued to fire, but were now outnumbered.
With one battalion virtually destroyed, thanks to the disciplined fire of the British, the second one turned round and marched from the field.
When George turned round he could see the Spanish, on the Portuguese side of the river, brandishing their weapons, oblivious to the fact they had fired one volley and run away.
The field belonged to the British, and George knew he never going to get his wine.
Spring 1810

Colonel McCandless was furious. The plan had been for 3 units meeting up with 3 chests of gold. One was missing, presumed absconded with the loot.
The mission was of special importance to The Peer himself. Go to the village of Siesta del Lobo , find the local priest, and give him the gold in exchange for the sacred boogie of St Angelo. With this relic in British hands, Spain would realise that the English were preserving their traditions, and not here to occupy, like the French had.
The British sent their parties into the village, a group of Portuguese infantry, under Ensign Chris, and some Cornish infantry under a Captain.
As they entered the village square they could sense something very wrong. The Priest was there alright, but so was some French, also carrying gold.
The priest had been playing both sides, hoping for double the reward, but the French had arrived early.
For only a moment the silence lingered as both sides grasped the others presence.
The Portuguese were first to react and fired a volley, but soon the others parties followed suit, and the square became a rolling cloud of smoke.
Hearing the firing, the rest of both forces moved forward into the village.
On the British right were more Portuguese infantry , under their Captain, and some Cascadores, moving quickly utilising the cover. In the left the 60th Rifles also moved silently into the village, leaving the rest of the Cornish infantry, who waited, looking at their newly appointed Ensign Garfunkel to act.
Cracks and bangs reverberated around the village, Ensign Chris, ordering his men back, leaving their chest of gold with their dead.
Shadows appeared through the swirling smoke, a group of French Legere skirmishes grabbing the priest, firing, then disappearing back into the gloom.
Casualties were stacking up on both sides in the square, as the troops there had their world shrunk down to the 6 feet or so in front of them, as that was all they could see.
The Cascadores were moving from street to street, avoiding the French on that side.
Ensign Garfunkel fiddled with his sabre, gulped, and strode forward, " Come on you buggers, let's get at them."
They moved into the left of the village where they found the Captain, ordering them further round to out flank the enemy.
In the centre reinforcements arrived for both sides, shoring up a depleted line. The French were being forced back, leaving their gold.
The Cascadores were running at a crouch, they needed that priest. The Legeres had nearly spirited him away, when with an almighty scream, the Cascadores crashed into the French, their sword bayonets gleaming.
The fighting was quick and bloody, the French either dead or running. Grabbing the priest the Cascadores turned round into the village, to find their path blocked by a French unit, muskets in the shoulder.
Ensign Garfunkel and his men moved into a garden orchard, then climbed the high wall the other side to out flank the French. They were met with a blistering volley, which tore into the Cornish. Now totally disorganized, they received volley after volley, staggering back under the onslaught.
The square looked like an abattoir, smoke obscuring any living thing , when suddenly a group of rifleman, and Cornish rushed forward grabbing the abandoned chests.
The Cascadores took the volley, the survivors breaking into the houses to escape the murderous fire, dragging the priest by his robes.
The French had had enough, and what had started as a trickle, became a race, as men ran for their lives.
The British had done well, coming away with more gold than they had started with, and importantly the Priest.
That Cascadores unit are to be decorated for their heroic actions. Great write up Steve!
Spring 1810

Luke brushed off every visible speck of dust off his brand new, very expensive uniform. He was a newly promoted Lieutenant in His Majesties South Essex regiment, and he had splashed out.
A cough behind him made him spin round, a large imposing silhouette standing in the entrance to his tent.
" Very smart Laddie. Your to come with me and help me with a wee task"
Luke recognised the voice as belonging to the larger than life Colonel of the Campbell Highlanders, Colonel Macpherson.
" Err eyes yes Sir "he stammered , scrambling after the departed officer.
" And don't forget your hat Laddie", the Colonel called out over his shoulder.
" No Sir" Luke spun round , desperately trying to locate his bicorne.

The mission seemed simple. Cross the Ford into the village of La Casa del Muerdo, locate some English civilians before the advancing French army arrive.
The civilians though were very important. General Pictons sister, her Preacher husband, their daughter, and her husband, a Major in the Portuguese army and a member of Sir Arthur's staff.
Colonel Macpherson's force consisted of his Highlanders, Luke's South Essex, and a small group of 60th Rifles.
The Colonels plan was simple. His Highlanders would act as a blocking force in the village to counteract any French. The Rifles would guard the Scots right flank and protect the crossing at the Ford. The South Essex would split into companies and search the village for the Civilians.
Things started off very well, the Highlanders taking up position in the main street, barricading the road. The South Essex began to search the Eastern part of the village.
As Colonel Macpherson looked on ,he could see dust being kicked up on the Western part of the village. The French had arrived. He could see a column approaching his position, straight down the main street, the column protected by a screen of skirmishers. Over to the right another column could be heard coming down a parallel street.
The Sots waited, and waited, the French closing in on them, then let fly with an almighty volley, then immediately going to platoon firing, a continual disciplined baptism of death.
The Voltigeurs disappeared in the smoke, a small panicked volley their only reply.
The French officer commanding the Column slipped in some dog excrement, his men distancing themselves from the rancid smell.
Luke and his men searching building after building, moving to the South side of the village, aware that a battle had begun, and they had turned up nothing.
The Highlanders stopped firing. When the smoke began to clear, the only Voltigeurs left were dead or dying. But now the column brought their muskets to the shoulder and fired. Men fell, and the order came to commence firing once again, the swirling powder smoke obscuring their vision.
The Colonel then heard the distinctive sound of the Baker rifles, and he turned in his saddle to see another regiment of French had made it to the river and turned right, hoping to hit the flank of the Scots.
2 battles now raged in the village. The,Scots were now being assailed from 2 positions, as more skirmishers had occupied a building overlooking their position.
The Scots were now edging forward, still firing, the toll telling on the French as they edged back.
Luke and his men managed to get into a building which faced the French column, and so they added their firepower to the Scots.
The Rifles and the French also continued to exchange fire, the outnumbered Rifles edging back to the g
Ford.
Then some South Essex excited a building near the French, running for the ford, dragging a vicar and a screaming overweight woman with them.
2 out of 4 though Macpherson, not bad, as continued to inspire his men.
The Scots vollies were too much for the French, and they broke.
Luke's unit, unaware that there was now no enemy in front of their building continued to pour fire into the street.
The French on the right were now beginning to falter.
Eventually Luke managed to regain control of his men and the ceased fire, continuing there search. As they moved back out into the street he was knocked to his knees in the mud by his men. At least his new jacket was still clean he thought, as more men barged into him, knocking him face down into the thick mud. Oh dear he thought, but at least he could get it laundered. Then he felt strong hands grabbing him from both sides under his arms and around the back of his neck, as his Sergeant and another pulled him out of the street ripping his jacket in the process.
Oh bugger ge thought.
The Highlanders were now in the centre of the village, but still taking accurate fire from a barricaded building to their right, full of skirmishers.
Screaming their ancient Clan battle cry, the Scots assaulted the building, many getting cut down before they forced entry into the house. Terrible noises, shouts and screams could be heard before a handful of red coats reappeared, carrying an unconscious French officer.
The Rifles withdrew to the river, covering the crossing of the South Essex with their rescued people.
Colonel Macpherson looked at his timepiece. Time to go. No sign of the young Lieutenant and his men
He couldn't wait any longer , daylight was running out, and Marshal Neys army wasn't too far away, and marching towards the village.
As he turned his horse around, he heard running feet, and Luke rounded a corner.
" Sir, sorry Sir, we came up empty handed " he garbled.
" No time to worry Laddie, time to go. Oh and tidy yourself up Lieutenant, you look like a pig in a sty"
Steve you've outdone yourself. Really enjoyed reading your battle with Luke on Tuesday 9th of July. My wife was a literacy consultant for Worcestershire C.C. and says that she enjoys the lively humour which gives colour to the events and helps her make sense of what it is we all get up to on a Tuesday evening. Keep up the good work Phil S