Great Cavalry Manouver No. 1

An enemy artillery battery deployed at least a half move in front of the nearest infantry. Quick calculations - "that infantry fired just in close range, so from those guys to the woods looks about six inches, and then the column looks about a foot long, etc., etc." I figured I could charge the guns with a good chance of making contact; a sure thing! Notch up a battery for old Granby! More pontificating on cavalry tactics, etc. Yes! send in the Blues (or is it the Royals?) It could only come unstuck if I threw low on the charge bonus double die roll - say a 2 or a 3. 1 tossed a 3. Exit the Royal Blues.

Oh well, a trifling setback in the career of a great cavalry leader. The conflict grows. Both sides are fairly pummelled. A gaping hole opens in the center. I am positioned with my carefully conserved cavalry to launch a Napoleonic charge up the middle. With some nervousness I decide to go. Hmm, infantry to my flanks, better screen them off . This leads to...

Great Cavalry Manouver No. 2

To my right the backs of a thin line of our dark blue infantry are visible, facing large and ugly looking French masses. Better send a regiment in behind them to support. Must keep the flanks secure as I charge in the center. I send in the 10th Dragoons (Mordaunt's). Solid chaps, the 10th, no problem here. Oops - I forget to issue the 10th with HMSO Publication #45879/2 "Manual for the Recognition of Enemy Infantry by Coat Color Cavalry, for use of."

The infantry turns out to be their dark blue coated guys who retreated last turn. (You understand, those sneaky Frogs had white coated guys, blue coated guys. red coated guys, etc., etc. - it gets a little difficult). The infantry about faces, are joined by their numerous comrades, and they blow the 10th Dragoons off the face of the earth...

Great Cavalry Manouver No. 3

To my left our infantry has just thrown back a determined assault. The enemy is in temporaty disarray. My colleagues call for exploitation of this great opportunity - perhaps another "roll up"?! I send in the 3rd Dragoon Guards (Howard's) . Very daring the 3rd. The 3rd crashes into a disordered battalion, taking heavy losses, but they send the Frogs to Valhalla. A quick charge bonus roll to keep the momentum going - oops! The 3rd stalls flat. The enemy regroups and shares a few thoughts and lots of lead with the 3rd. Goodbye the 3rd.

As an aside, I must point out as a cavalry commander how I have learned sadly the hollow meaning of "infantry support". When all is well, you are thrashing the enemy, overrunning batteries, etc., the infantry pops out from behind trees and jumps over walls, coming after you with gusto, shouting blood curdling encouragement: "Hack 'em to bits," "cut 'em down like dogs." But should a small cloud appear on the horizon, say, a less than decisive melee, a few unexpected casualties, suddenly its cold and lonely out there. You look over your shoulder. Where are those footslogers? "Oh no, we didn't mean at all 'exploit' in that sense; no, actually we really meant 'consolidate' - yes, yes, we are all ready here to cover your withdrawal - splendid show - come back whenever you think you should - we'll be here behind this large ditch ready to help ..." Well the flanks had gone kaput, the cavalry could not stay where it was, there was nothing left to do but to charge...

Great Cavalry Manouver No. 4

I launch all my remaining regiments up the middle and into the gap. Various odds and ends of French cavalry dodge and weave, some evading and others charging. As the French cavalry has seen a good deal of action, I comfortably outnumber it. Maybe I can get to the end of this battle with a shred of my "Pferdmeister" reputation intact? Nope. In part the rules contribute. I charge one target. They evade. I am forced by the rules to exploit in a straight line past another French regiment standing a scant few inches to my flank.

To make it really difficult for them, I run out of steam in front of them, flank waving in the breeze. "Sacre Bleu - chargez!" One of my strongest regiments, Breitenbach's Hanoverian Dragoons, dissolves, hit in the flank. This sort of dismal performance continues, punch and counter-punch, until it is finally the last melee. I should statistically win it but the way things are going... We roll the die. Gasp, I just squeak a win! The French flee. Only a single intact British regiment, the Royal North British Dragoons, stands recovering in the center ready to pursue next turn.

Dean decides to call the game - a rather pyrrhic Allied victory. French morale is on the decline. It is hard to see how they can reform a defensible line. On our side things are almost as bad. Our infantry is devastated, our artillery used up, and my splendid troopers? Gone, all save for a single regiment. In my mind's eye, an erect figure on horseback, aristocratic arrogance in his bearing, rides out of the smoke and flame of the great cavalry melee. He looks at me scornfully as he rides by and says "You will ansew fow it. You have wuined the Light Bwigade..."

Part the Third: In which the author decides to try one horse at a time

After a tasty meal of Chicken Caoutchouc, a lighter note takes hold. We repair to a peaceful German countryside where war is temporarily on hold. It is the Marquis of Granby's Hunt Cup . (Maybe I get to play myself again?) This is an old fashioned steeplechase for individual horse round a rural countryside populated with woods, Croats, streams, bears, hedges, wolves and walls. Various hazards - human, animal, and natural - including ladies answering to "Heidi", are lying in wait for the unwary. Each player is an individual character in the race. The victory conditions are secret and specific for each character.

I play a Lt. Fakenham. If you think that that name is vaguely familiar, it probably is. It was the false name used by Barry Lyndon, the main character of Thackery's eponymous (no, I don't really know what that means either) novel set in the period of the SYW. On the other hand, if you don't recall the name then you may have - as a button I saw recently said - Vuja De , i.e. the strange feeling that nothing like this has happened before! In accordance with Barry Lyndon's character as a rogue and scoundrel, my victory conditions were to win the race at any cost without scruple whatsoever.

Dishonorable and unscroupulous behavior would include using your whip, your sword, or your pistol on another rider or horse. So naturally I whip, slash, and shoot at any competitor who comes within range. My first foray is to gallop up behind a fellow rider and lash out with my whip. I fall off my horse. Somewhat dusty, I remount after an interval and ride on to my next victim. I slash at him viciously with my sabre. I miss. I fall off my horse. Definitely a little sartorially dishevelled, I remount after another interval and proceed on. The nastier the thing you try to do to an opponent, the greater the risk to yourself if it doesn't work. I am third coming down the straight, but one of the others is closing fast.

I consider "how would we settle this in Los Angeles?" Obvious. So I whip out my pistol and shoot him. Missed. He fires back. A shoulder wound. I lose control of my horse. Even I can learn some basic cavalry tactics. I stay off my horse.

7YW Wargaming Memories