One of the areas which I would like to consider in this column is that of `identification' with the models which we control in wargames. I am a solo wargamer in the Seven Years War period, and while the following considerations are all based in the mid 18th Century, I am sure that, with appropriate modifications, they are valid for other periods.
As a wargamer it is relatively easy to form an attraction for a particular body of men, whether they be a battalion, a regiment, or even an entire army. This attraction could be based on the standard of painting or the style of basing, or even the level of past performance. There is no doubt that these standards will be totally subjective but, since we are all mere mortals, it is not surprising that we will have favourites. It has sometimes been put forward that a solo gamer has the greater advantage in being able to protect his favoured units, and while, to a degree, this is true, it should also be pointed out that the same player is almost certain to have favourites on both sides among all the combatants and, therefore, has to take some unpalatable decisions in order to keep the game moving. I do not know if this applies to everyone, or whether I am just lucky, because the mechanics of my movement and deployment rules seem to take a perverse delight in pitting two favoured units against each other in direct opposition.
Oddly enough, this is not often a bad thing since the resulting spectacle often produces a highlight of the battle which lingers in the memory long after the rest of the encounter is forgotten. It seems somehow easier to bear the loss of a favourite unit if it occurs successfully carrying some strategic or tactical objective, or if it founders at the hands of another favourite body of men. Another mitigating factor in such a loss is the length of time which it is present in the action, since it is undoubtedly less difficult to put the figures back in the box at the end of `turn 15' in a 16-turn battle rather than at the end of 'turn 4' in the same battle.
To digress for a moment, this last point raises a question which in wargame terms demands some attention. Why did otherwise thoughtful commanders, like Frederick II of Prussia, place units of seasoned, veteran troops in their first line? Frederick habitually did this, seemingly irrespective of the quality of the opposition or their circumstances when, as far as I can see, it would only be justified if the opposition were likely to break and flee rather than confront battle-hardened veterans with the business end of a musket. The Austrian army of the Seven Years War and, to an even greater degree, the Russians were unlikely to break without at least trying the issue. Since the most effective volley of any unit is going to be the first, it follows that the greatest casualties from gunfire are likely to be inflicted as a result of the first volley.
This is generally the case, since all of the supervising officers should be in position and, normally, there will have been sufficient time to ensure that each musket and artillery piece has been fully and properly loaded and primed. Why then would an otherwise able commander risk the sacrifice of his best troops in drawing out this first volley? The only justification for it that I can see would be in the situation where all of the regiments in the 'Order of Battle' were of equal standing and experience. Just a bit unlikely. The most commonly offered explanation is that the performance of the lesser or untried units of the second line could not be guaranteed in the advance to contact phase of the action.
My observation on this deployment would be that if the first line suffered a reverse, then you would be unlikely to have a second line at all, since there would only be light cavalry between them and the warm fires of home. I do not for a moment believe that Frederick would have shied away from the concept of `cannon fodder' which could have resulted from having an entirely green first line, but prefer to think that he did not wish to give the enemy encouragement from seeing a Prussian front line faltering or wavering. It seems that the most obvious solution would have been to mix the untried and veteran regiments in both lines, but Frederick appears to have believed that, since he could not win a war of attrition, he would rely on a quick result. This result would be much more likely to be achieved with veteran troops, but, over a period of time, this represents at best a risky prospect.
Returning to the original topic ('about time, too' do I hear?), it is some measure of the inherent uncertainty in wargaming that, even stretching our circle of influence over the rules to the limit, there is no guarantee that any action we take to protect one of our favourite regiments will be successful. A personal example will perhaps best serve to illustrate what I am talking about. During the course of a campaign season, a Prussian infantry brigade was advancing along a valley floor toward an Austrian line and I had the choice of deployment of the four Prussian regiments involved.
One of these regiments was a personal favourite and I allocated it the position at the rear, suitably rationalised as providing an anchor role for the advance. Everything then proceeded as expected, with the leading Prussian regiment bearing the brunt of the Austrian first volley but managing to keep going. At this juncture, our hobby sprang on me one of those little surprises that keeps us young since, galloping into the valley behind the Prussians, there entered a brigade of Austrian dragoons. The Austrian commander of the dragoons could not believe his good fortune at being presented with the backpacks of a Prussian regiment, and he lost no time in maximising his opportunity. What followed was too horrible to contemplate, let alone repeat, just suffice it to say that my favourite regiment suffered a great deal more from being protected that it would have done had it been leading down the valley. This example just serves to illustrate that we often do not know what the 'safest' course of action will turn out to be. There are some thing which are better left to chance since, in the words of one Robert Burns (Scotland's National Bard 1759-96)
- The best laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft a-gley.
Loosely translated as even the best plans go awry. I suspect that Burns must have secretly been a wargamer, for do we not all wholeheartedly subscribe to that observation?
No Drums, No Trumpets
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© Copyright 2003 Hal Thinglum
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