Once upon a time, toy soldiers stood tall! When Wells prepared to challenge the "silly scare-monger and prancing patriot" he could boast that his leaden minion stood 54mm in height, while the common German garden variety was only 40mm from hobnail boot to helmet spike.

Leaving the dim and distant past aside, however, it hasn't been too long since 54mm soldiers, massed in grand array, were the backbone of wargaming. You didn't know that the reason collector's figures are 54mm's tall is that back in the 1880's 00 gauge model railroads were in'? Well, while I wasn't around that far back, that's the way I hear it, and, with the rumor that military models are heading for N gauge (one day they'll try to sell us empty boxes and tell us that they contain microscopic toy soldiers) I see no reason not to believe it.

After leaving college, I spent a year on the payroll of a rural school district, isolated from such decadent influences as toy soldiers, wargamers, et alia. Needless to say, it was some time after my return before I could make connections with the greater world of model soldiers and wargaming, and when I did, I found that the darn things had shrunk! Gad! 10mm figures, something one of my 54mm grenadiers would take home to his grandchildren. Since then, alas, the situation has deteriorated, Wm. Britain has given up on tin soldiers, and wargamers are dedicated to the principal that midgets shall inherit the table top, but last year my semi- retired 54mm heroes caught a live one. You might even say they had caught a tartar.

It began when I encountered among the wargame figures at an MFCA convention a group of 54mm figures, which, I understood, represented the "Lithuanian Army" in a grand campaign scheme of 54mm wargames. While I must admit that I do not know very much about this group, I do understand the "Tzar of all the Russias" is a daring and skillful strategist, and that the Hetman (or whatever) of Lithuania is no slouch either.

Somehow, with the dimmest possible appreciation of the rules, your author, camera in hand, resolved to hurl the first line of the Cardorian Army, a hitherto undefeated force accustomed to diceless rules, against the proud Lithuanians of George Petronis. Owen Groman, a lad with a prodigious reputation for coin flipping (an indespensible asset in this game) joined my faction, sided with the crafty Lithuanian.

The armies ran at about 300 figures, and could be of almost any composition with respect to infantry or cavalry, but with 2 howitzers and I cannon per hundred, and a fixed proportion of elites. After toying with the idea of having all cavalry, I found that I had not brought enough, and, deciding that the infantry must of necessity be present, I put a fair amount of it onto the field. Being unclear as to the special character of elites, I chose the same category as my opponent, a mysterious being called a "winged hussar," which has similar qualities to a submachinegunner, only more so.

The rules in this game provided for a massive infantry fire power and an invincible cavalry shock power, with murderous artillery fire. I prefer less instantaneous death for my veterans, but decided to make the best of it. The enemy formed in a wide line with cavalry on either flank and a cavalry reserve, artillery along the center front.

For me, the Schlieffen plan, compact infantry columns against the enemy left center supported by all the cannons with a dense mass of cavalry to take up the wheel around the enemy left flank. Only a small brigade of light infantry was assigned to tease the enemy right flank.

Opposed to this master plan was the enemy's absolute mastery of small unit tactics. To continue the WWI analogy, the enemy army was 11 as a rapier among scythes," for like the British Army in 1914 they had mastered the battlefield conditions of the time and circumstances.

With a gun out. on either side in the preliminary salvoes, the Cardorian cavalry trotted out in grand style. Its elegance may be seen from the accompanying photographs. The 2nd light cavalry brigade, famous from its defeat of the Hubbardic cavalry at Turenberg, led the way. Swinging in a short arc they seized a farm house, then pushed on, amazed at the agility of the enemy dragoons, who fired at pistol range and then mounted, ran, and got away without a scratch. The enemy light dragoons were elites, but didn't dill many. On around the flank they went, leaving my hussars behind, but drawing closer to his. Suddenly the enemy presented his ace, and the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd brigades of Cardorian light horse, advancing in line of battle, encountered the enemy mounted reserve, advancing in Indian file-but it didn't help.

There began a knock down and drag out fight in which the lives of my favorite troopers were forfeit to the awesome power of fabled winged hussars, and, in the end, I had traded 3 men for 2-but among the 2 were the pick of the enemy's lances, including some sort of dignitary whose bloody standard fell on the field. My cavalry forced the enemy back into a sharp angle, but, in the meanwhile, his infantry pushed forward, ignoring demands for help from the left, and my proud Cardorian grenadiers fell back to the cover of their guns.

At two in the morning, with both armies worked into a flanking posture against strong resistance, the game drew to an indecisive end. My opponent, who knew more about how to get at grenadiers under these rules than I did about how to get "winged hussars" into close combat, so he was rather less relieved than I.

The rules involved, of which I gather there is a whole family, have an interesting fire table concept, and I will try to dredge up examples if our readers are interested. In the main, while disgusted with my performance as a general it was good to have another 54mm game, if only for nostalgia.