Or How an Officer and a Gentleman rode through Dettingen, Minden and the Marquis of Granby's Cup
Being the personal memoirs of a participant in the late pleasantness in South Bend, Indiana (A.K.A. the Seven Years War Association Convention). Our story so far: At the 1994 SYWA Convention, at the refight of the Battle of Dettingen (1743) the Author in the persona of Lt. General de Brogile, though outnumbered, turned and crushed the British left wing, winning the battle for the French. When we left him he was being favorably compared to some of the Great Captains of history by his admirers. So now our saga continues with:
Part the Third
Part the Third in which the author decides to try one horse at a time.
After a fast meal of Chicken Caoutchouc. a lighter note takes hold. We repair in a peaceful German countryside where war is farthest things on our mind. It is time for the Marquis of Granbury Cup. (Maybe I get to play myself again?) This is an old fishioned steeplechase for individual horses round a rural countryside populated with woods, goats, streams, bears, wolves, walls. Vinous hazards natural, animal and human -- including ladies answering to "Heidi" are lying in wait for timid. Each player is an individual character in the race. The victory conditions are secret and specific for each character.
I play Lt. Fakenham. lf you think that the name is vaguely familiar -- it probably is. It is the false name used by Barry Lyndon, the main character of Thackery's eponvillous (no, I don't know what that means) [derivative of an age, know-it-all Ed.] novel set in the period of the SYW. (On the other hand if you don't recall the name then you mav have -- as a button I saw recently said -- "Vuja De" - i.e. a strange feeling that nothing like this has happened before!)
In accordance with the Barrv Lyndon character being a rouge and scoundrel, my victory conditions were to win the race at any cost without scruple whatsoever dishonorable behavior would include using your whip, sword, or pistol on another rider or horse. So naturally I am to whip, slash and shoot any competitor who comes into range. The nastier the thing you try to do to an opponent the greater the risk to yourself if it doesn't work. My first foray is to gallop up behind a fellow and lash out with my whip. I fall off my horse. Somewhat dusty, I remount after a short interval, and ride after my next victim. I slash at him viciously with my sabre. I miss, fall off my horse.
Definitely a little sartorially dishevelled, I remount after another interval and proceed on. I am now third coming down the straight but one of the others is closing fast. I consider how would we settle this in L.A.? It's obvious. I whip out my pistol and fire at him. I miss. He shoots back. Hit. A shoulder wound. I lose control and fall off my horse. Even I can learn some basic cavalry tactics. I stay off my horse.
Thanks again to Jim Purky, editor of the Seven Years War Association Journal who kindly allowed us to reprint this article.
John Curran is now hard at work on his next installment of his memoirs. I also understand while he was vacationing at the Emerald Isle he finished another battalion from Brunswick.
A Short Canter in Germany 7YW Wargame Report
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