Or How an Officer and a Gentleman rode through Dettingen, Minden and the Marquis of Granby's Cup
Being the personal memoirs of a parrticipant in the late pleasantness in South Bend, Indiana (A-K-A. the Seven Years War Association Convention).
I arrived into South Bend and the SYWA convention, (March '94) tired and weary from a long turbulent trip in small commuter aircraft from Nashville. I had assumed that connecting flight would be a full sized aircraft which was a big mistake. If you plan to attend the SYWA con this year (April 7-8 '95) be sure to check the airline schedule for the type of plane.) South Bend and the Holiday Inn excellent venues for the event itself and I'd like to pass along a sincere thank you to Herb Gundt for organizing it.
Part the First, Wherein the author gets to charge everything in sight.
I first signed on with Jim Purky who was restaging the 1743 Battle of Dittingen. Jim had of course his beautifully painted troops in action. A great deal of the enjoyment of the convention is the overall quality of the troops and terrain. Even when militM, incompetence is rising to its own level, one can always be satisfied that at lest appearances arc being maintained. Dettingen is a blocking force situation.
The British are withdrawing up the valley, the river Main is to their left. impenetrable woods to their fight, pursued by, a large French army, while a smaller French force under the Marquis De Grammamont lies across their path. The British must break through this force before the army, is caught from behind.
Historically, the Marquis- clearly a descendent of the impetuous knights of Agincourt-unwisely advanced to meet the British instead of staying behind a protecting stream. This proved to be an excellent and creative way to lose. We French under the Marquis de South Bend, the Vicomte De Mitchell, resolved to stay put.
My initial assignment was to be a foot- slogger in the French center, however the gods (ie Jim Purky, the judge) looked over the board and it was not good, (not enough Brits too many French).
Therefore, Bart Redman underwent a sudden severe translocation to being the British left wing commander and I consequently received a promotion. I now became de Broglie, commanding a fine selection on the right -- the cavalry of Maison du Roi, the infantry of the Wild Geese and some large siege guns across the river.
At last a recognition of my tactical skills, my finesse as a general, my unbounded wisdom. etc.- nothing to do with the fact I happened to be sitting in the next chair. We looked to our fearless leader, Jim Michell, for the plan de bataille. The Viscomte de Mitchell narrowed his eyes, inhaled deeply, cocked his head to one side and said "Je ne sais pas!" [I don't know.]
There was a moment of stunned silence by the French high command. then came a torrent of questions. "What?" "Quoi? " "Do we go forward or what?" "How about delaying them with sacrificial cavalry charges? (A distinctly tasteless proposal I may say promulgated by an infantry commander.) The Viscomte beamed at us and said: "Je ne sais pas! "
Oh well, I thought, we must be playing the historical level of the French aristocratic commander totally ineffective. This of course in retrospect was a severe injustice to the Viscomte. In fact my most recent experiences at conventions have been with a hands off style of commander, - ie no real plan- and the strange thing is, it seems to work (so much for all that advice one reads about having a plan and sticking to it).
But enough of such tiresome diversions. The Duke of Cumberland [British commander] called for "serried ranks" (I have always wondered what "non-serried" ranks look like [a formless mob, Ed.]) and the British Army duly advanced on our position. We powdered our collective wigs, sniffed our snuff and waited.
To my front my late colleague, now my British adversary, commanded a mixed force of infantry, artillery, and cavalry His horse advanced rapidly on his left flank, screening his infantry and threatening to come to grips with my Maison de Roi. According to Mchtmrr's book on the battle. these were the King's Own Regiment of Dragoons. A.K.A. Bland Horse.
This manoeuvre took them within range of my cross river heavy guns, and thus presented me with one of those challenging decisions that frankly brings out the best of my inherent tactical genius. I refer of course to the decision as to whether (a) to gape at the cavalry going by and do nothing or (b) shoot the-you-know-what out of the lovely juicy target in front of me. For those among you who are interested in the military decision making process I should point out I was very influenced by, two factors, viz.: The cavalry could not shoot at me (out of range) and (2) they could not charge me (impassable river). After struggling with this problem for a micro-second, I shouted "give me a gazillion dice" (we were playing Age of Reason rules and I had heavy/medium guns) and proceeded to blast away with all the projectiles known to man. A couple of rounds and the Bland was a mere fraction of its former self (actually my artillery did not find them bland at all -- rather tasty in fact....sorry, sorry. ..).
There was a short interlude while the British artillery sought to revenge their horse. By more incredible skill (I can't remember if I outgunned him three or four to one) I managed to crush this impertinence and began to think offensively (all my friends assure me that I'm offensive). I queried our gallant leader go forward?"
"Je ne sais pas," came the reply. (The hereditary passion for consistency known among generations of the Vicomte de Mitchell, I suppose).
Well since I had the best cavalry in the French Army together with The Wild Geese [Irish mercenaries in the service of France, Ed.] all covered by impregnable guns, an advance seemed pretty risky. Furthermore I was faced with desperate odds against me- a line of British infantry lacking artillery and cavalry, support with their left flank in the air. As you can see another rough decision, so shouting "All for me & sauve qui peut." I sent de Brogie's wing forward. The Wild Geese closed up to, and the Maison du Roi on their left began to cross the stream while covered artillery.
After that the gods shined on de Broglie and the French right wing. The threat posed by my advancing Irish infantry "fixed" the British line, General Redmon could not afford to leave any gaps, or create any angles in the line to serve as weak points. The infantry trading volleys as The Geese emerged from the marshes of the Haggraben stream. The Maison du Roi treaded their way forward to the far left flank. They also emerged, straightened their lines, ready to engulf the British left.
A lone battalion faced to the flank in a vain endeavor to halt the looming French demarche. There then ensued what is known in our trade as a "roll-up" as various battalions got hit in the flank while being shot in the front, or vice versa. The Maison du Roi rolled; The Wild Geese volleyed. The heavy artillery pounded.
The British left ceased to exist. The game was called and King George was invited to dine with Le Roi (fate worse than death -- snails on the menu, I believe). I received plaudits from all on my apparent mastery of the art of cavalry warfare. Utter drivel flowed from my lips.
"Well I've studied Murat's intellectual concepts and von Breedow's principle of force, blah, blah. blah. However as I basked in my fifteen minutes of fame, a little voice in my head said "quit while you are ahead." As with all little voices I ignored it.
John Curran is a vice-President off HMGS/PSW and a self-proclaimed tactical genius. He knows a lot about warfare and medicine, which I find goes hand in hand. He is also very lucky...
The 12th Annual SYWA Convention will be held April 7-8. 1995 in South Bend Indiana, at the Holiday Inn Downtown, 213 W. Washington. For reservations at the Holiday Inn call (209) 232-3941. Tell them you will be attending the convention. Admission is $30.00 which includes Sat Eve. Banquet.
A Short Canter in Germany 7YW Wargame Report
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