Napoleonic Wargame Club (NWC)

The battlefield surgeon says the wounds from my recent defeat will heal faster if I do a steady march and exercise my limbs in combat. Obviously the Spanish Army insurance plan needs some work.

I'm looking at Leipzig m15-NC5 Confed vs Austria . I have not played it or even looked at it so it will be blind for me. Also open to something else as long as it is a assured allied win. I need the points.

So sip some champagne, dab lips with lace doily, avoid getting to much of the French Military grade rouge on it, and ponder going into battle against me...

_________________
Major General Richard Bradshaw, 1st Viscount of Manchester

Lloyd's Battery, Royal Artillery
Royal Regiment of Artillery
Reserve Artillery & Engineers

Raising his head from the table, the over aged Lieutenant wondered what the doctor had put in his coffee. He was healing faster than he thought it would be, or at least felt that way. This omniJAGERpufel medicine would help a lot of people in Madrid who were suffering from the doldrums. If only it were organic, naturally grown as opposed to some mystical procedure the doctor says is performed by witches in the Prussian woods.

He asked the sentry if any sign of French movement towards them had been detected. The answer was no. There had been a cloud of dust seen in the next valley but it was determined by scouts to be a travelling circus moving through the area. "YOU FOOLS!", he cried out. "That is the French High Command! They just look like clowns!" He lowered his head to ease the pounding and called for the doctor. Vaguely he remembered seeing a list, an extensive list, of freshly minted French junior officers. Hopefully one would take the bait.

_________________
Major General Richard Bradshaw, 1st Viscount of Manchester

Lloyd's Battery, Royal Artillery
Royal Regiment of Artillery
Reserve Artillery & Engineers

During the week, the Jager infused medicine had worked wonders on his health. Though his aides said his breath could rust canister shot. It would be a century or so before there was evidence of what it does to one's liver. But I digress. Fully recovered now he awaited a dust cloud on the horizon to signal the arrival of the enemy.

What if they don't come, he thought? Does it mean they don't love me? Is it my looks, my overwhelming grace and good manners, frequent flatulence ... ? A tear formed at the corner of his eye as the feelings of inadequacy he felt as a young student at the Spanish Military Academy of Field Culinary and Sanitation sprang up again. "I need to kill some Frenchmen", he shouted. The men nearby cheered at this challenge, not realizing the depths of despair that brought it forth.

_________________
Major General Richard Bradshaw, 1st Viscount of Manchester

Lloyd's Battery, Royal Artillery
Royal Regiment of Artillery
Reserve Artillery & Engineers

Salute!

A dust stained courier arrives at your encampment (no, he is not wearing clown makeup... though he does say your sentry was correct as he did pass a travelling circus wandering through the neighboring valley on his journey).

He hands you a dispatch from FML Liechtenstein, of the Sudlich Corps.
Noticing your rather dissipated state, and general apathy for reading anything in French he offers to translate it for you.

As commander of the Confederation forces we will accept your challenge to meet upon the battle map in the environs of Lobau (M15-NC5, Leipzig Game).

If you are agreeable to this rencontres might I suggest the following Optional Rules:

All checked on except for: Manual Defensive Fire, No Retreat Overruns, Partial Retreats, and Multiple Infantry Melees.

Also, I seem to have found myself involved in a growing number of skirmishes and outright bloody battles against the implacable foes of L'Empereur, and would be able to exchange shot and shell two or three times a week (more on the weekends).

The courier informs you he will await your reply outside and downwind of your setting.

Regards,

Ah, a fortuitous change of luck for you, Captain Bradshaw! You seem to have likely found the only French courier considerate enough to stand downwind while you compose your response, thus sparing you the overwhelming stench of his feminine perfume which all truly manly warriors would conscientiously seek to avoid.

I am happy for your good fortune.

Salute!

Yes, downwind until the Capitano has signed the formal documents, then - it is but a sudden and swift maneuver sur les derrieres , and we find ourselves behind and upwind, and the advantage is back in our favor!

Regards,

If I may, is it offtopic, prolog, continuation of the story from the top.

... In the meantime, the Polish colonel was riding to east through the German-speaking lands. He told himself that he was returning to his homeland ... to home, to wife! He wanted this! He was tired. But he had orders. New orders. He searched the headquarters of VIII Corps of the Grand Army of Prince Jozef Poniatowski. Somwhere here?! But where? Said to himself.

Oh fate! Already Duchy of Warsaw was occupied by the Muscovites. Not all yet ... Fortress Glogau still defended else ... until 1814, but he and no one else knew about it.

Wind blew when he commuted to the top of the hill. Winter is coming. Thought. Recently I fought side by side with the Marshal Vandamme at Kulm! We won there ... but the enemy ... Austrians, Russians, Prussians still attacked elsewhere!

For the top, literally fell into a group of riders! Fortunately they were Saxons. Napoleon's allies. Thank God.

Salute! Where am I now, Meine Herren? Asked.

They answered him around town Lobau, Lausitz. After a short conversation, it turned out that while on patrol, captured few prisoners, spies and important letters. Sergeant, patrol commander, boasted that has even letters in Spanish.

In Spanish? Pole asked curiously. Can I? He read. With each verse, his eyes shined, eyebrows raised up, mouth opened.

Lead to the commander! Quickly! Told.

But what happened? Saxon asked in fear.

War! Again! Austrians are coming! Shouted.

Tightened their horses. Drove through the village, windmill creaked in the wind. In the head of the Pole seethed. These Spanish words in the letter?! I know them! ... Madre Dios! ... Your humble servant ... Austrian-Spanish alliance ... Princessa Regiment ... Spanish Brigade ... Porque Lucho! ... It's he! Capitao R. B.! Spaniard! Again!? Here?!

What he doing here? Spying? Diplomatic mission? Why he did not return to Spain?
Cholera! As if cursing said. He is like a Don Quijote de la Mancha!

Looked again at the windmill, his mouth twisted into a smile. It must be clarified.

Blowing in the wind quickly silenced the neighing of horses ...

_________________
Général de Brigade Cezary Pluskwa,
17ème Régiment de Dragons,
1ère Brigade,
4ème Division de Dragons,
3ème Corps d'Armée,
La Grande Armée.

With all this "wind" being broken I have ordered all camp fires extinguished to minimize the risk of explosions. The troops don't mind as they have lost their appetite. Speaking of wind, I have attached the agreed upon battle plan to a 6 lb shot and fired it towards the infamous, yet personable French General's command tent to speed things along. Couriers have a way of being misdirected by dark forces within the French side of the fence and I am running out of local Padres to escort them. I have a feeling he will do his best to return it to me at the first opportunity ...

_________________
Major General Richard Bradshaw, 1st Viscount of Manchester

Lloyd's Battery, Royal Artillery
Royal Regiment of Artillery
Reserve Artillery & Engineers

Salute!

At the encampment of the Sudlich Corps the men were sitting around the morning fires and preparing to break their fast.
All looked up when the advanced scouting party returned with a new persona among them.

The Polish Colonel, travel stained from his journey of hard riding was brought to the command tent of FML Liechtenstein who greeted the fellow.

As the pleasantries are exchanged between them there is the distant sound of a cannon fire...
A whistling sound is heard, and then can be seen a scramble among the men gathered about the fires as an iron ball descends through the air to land with burst of raised dust and rolling along the ground 'til finally stopping before the feet of the officers.

For briefest of moments the Colonel and FML gazed wide-eyed at their bane resting there before them... but then quick as nimble can be the Colonel stretched forth his hand and pulled out the yet flickering fuse... all breathed a sigh of relief.

The FML bent down and retrieved a parcel note attached to this diabolical mail delivery system.
Scanning the words he then began issuing his orders to the staff AdC's who sheepishly returned from whatever bolt holes had proven to be shelter.

Then he turned to the Polish officer and thanked him for the daring deed just performed, and explained the Austrians are advancing even as we speak.

Regards,

Salute!

I could tell by the way my servant, and model for my signature block ( not the soldier, but the sitting senorita ), brought my morning coffee, that something was wrong. I went to bed looking over the list of my forces and was over joyed! What a model army I commanded! Then Maria slowly handed me the map I was to use. It was for the town of Landau Pflatz, not Lobau! WTF!!! I immediately sent a courier to cancel my AAA subscription. Obviously French spies had breeched their ranks. Putting on a game face I went to meet the troops and begin the march to glory! The old map had listed a Irish tavern, McDonny's or McDonald's, not far from here famous for breakfast treats. I always like to start my campaigning with a hearty meal. Now it is just a breakfast taco.

So may your luck be bad and all your powder wet ....

Your servant, richard.

Sept 16th, 1813
09:15 hrs: FML Liechtenstein bid farewell to the Polish Colonel who was on his way back to the Duchy of Warsaw.

The FML handed him a dispatch to take with him and deliver to the Imperial suite which was rumored to be in the Duchy this time of the year partaking in the special favors of Marie Walewska, courtesan of Polish dreams and aspirations.

The dispatch contained the FML's notes on his campaign through the Silesian countryside, where so far the activity consisted mostly of requisitioning supplies from the vast fields of potatoes.
Knowing however that one of L'Empereur's favorite dishes was fried potatoes he was including his own personal recipe for just such fare.

Of course, the Polish Colonel was informed (for reasons of security) that the dispatch contained highly sensitive orders of movements, and the reporting of tell tale signs of a Free Spanish Brigade officer on assignment to the Austrian Council of Aulic.

Regards,

30 minutes of marching to battle under the combined banners of the Spanish Brigade and the regal forces of Austria there has been no contact with the feared enemy. But wait... is that the aroma of fried potatos wafting across the plains? An odd scent to it, not your typical French fried potato. Must be secret ingredients passed down from great grandma to grandma to revoluntionary to courtesan to the bow legged (too many days in the cavalry) nemisis that lurks in the nooks and crannys of the land before me. They should have listened to that fine French lady of taste and lineage and ate cake instead.

Oye vey! ( to disguise my usual Madre Dios in case more spies intercept dispatches. Since when did the French learn to read?) Word has come back from the forward scouts that there is some gayly decorated man-about-town waving frantically at us from a ridge in what is supposed to be the enemy lands. Is that a lace doily or a surrender hankerchef? Perhaps war is about to begin once again...

_________________
Major General Richard Bradshaw, 1st Viscount of Manchester

Lloyd's Battery, Royal Artillery
Royal Regiment of Artillery
Reserve Artillery & Engineers

... the lonely rider stood on the top of the mountain, exactly he was going, going away. For the local, the terrified inhabitants, perhaps seemed to be he running out. But no, he was going with orders. To the VIII Corps of the Grand Army of Prince Jozef Poniatowski. Because it was a Polish colonel. He still was looking for the HQ. ...

... colonel suddenly stopped, turned and looked in the valley. For the last time. Despite the fact that the stomach was still warm of meal, because recently ate dainty of local cuisine, Lausitzer Brühmauke, and he was blissfully. In addition, do not ate alone or with just anyone, only with the commander of the Corps Südlich, FML Liechtenstein. But the sight of the approaching column of Austrian soldiers, clutched his stomach. Swarm came down from the passes and followed on roads to the cast iron city of Löbau. Pole turned toward the town. It was a beautiful. Still yet. Until it begin to fight, to city bombing or foraging through soldiery. Then the white walls, roof tiles in the sun will not be shiny. Shiny! Shiny like gold!? Saturated his mind. Perhaps memories of childhood? From the book? With memories? ...

... shiny as the Golden City! Seven Cities of Gold!! A white, dirty shakos, coats and pants of Austrians also shone. As the Conquistadors! They walked like them!! Oh! The sixteenth century! New World! Oh Spaniard! Are you conquistador, Coronado!? Asked as if in anger. This is not El Dorado!! Hot southern blood rushing you here or what? Gold?! You can't find here! Only death in pursuit of a myth!! He thought still. ...

... bird squawked. He woke up. Moreover, it is not my business. Not yet. Time to go. Glück, meine Herren! Sighed. Rushed horse, pulled the reins and disappeared behind the edge. ...

... but fate doesn't sleep. This is not the end. ...

_________________
Général de Brigade Cezary Pluskwa,
17ème Régiment de Dragons,
1ère Brigade,
4ème Division de Dragons,
3ème Corps d'Armée,
La Grande Armée.

In typical French fashion hostilities have commenced. I sent forward a cavalry squadron with an invitation to lunch were I had hoped to taste some of the secret recipe fried potatoes so favored by the French elite. As they trotted across a grassy meadow under the Meal Time flag, a bright red banner with two golden arches in the middle, French artillery opened fire killing seven of them. These were young cadets eager to see how truly ugly and perfumed a French soldier can be. Alas, they only met the Grim Reaper. Unarmed and not expecting such a reception they fled in terror.

We are determined to exact revenge and then eat those damned potatoes!

_________________
Major General Richard Bradshaw, 1st Viscount of Manchester

Lloyd's Battery, Royal Artillery
Royal Regiment of Artillery
Reserve Artillery & Engineers

A most fearsome battle is ensuing. I am taking heavy losses yet moving slowly forward on 2 of the 3 fronts. Only because my esteemed opponent is advancing to the rear in a controlled manner with his horse. Now that he has met up with his heavy footed infantry I believe I am in for a world of hurt. He must have recruited some Irish Rifles as they are very accurate. Damn these false values of equality!!! If only I could get a frigate up one of these rivers....

_________________
Major General Richard Bradshaw, 1st Viscount of Manchester

Lloyd's Battery, Royal Artillery
Royal Regiment of Artillery
Reserve Artillery & Engineers

A frigate indeed!