Colonial Campaigns Club (CCC)

Those of us with farms not yet burnt to the ground have to get the crops in the ground before the summer campaign season kicks off.

Now the mercenaries and ne'er do wells that make up the army fielded by the Hanoverian king, that is another story.

All winter long holed up in Canada, coming down with scurvy. Long periods of idleness puctuated by vicious bouts of drunkeness and cruelty among the Acadian population. (Sir Natta being exempt from this. It is well known that he winters in St. Bart's.) I am sure they were ready to roll at the first signs of an American spring.

The good Mssrs Burke and Malone were able to step forward and delay and feint a bit, but we are now ready to field a team for match play.

<center>Amos
Burke
Cox
McClellan</center>

Shall we play the 2002 tourney (using the Americans first file). It is <s>18</s> 21 turns, so turn around should be decent. (2002 MP is 16, so that is also an option.)

The Commander of the Centre Column put his telescope to his eye. "Is that a mirage I see on the horizon General Natta? I could have sworn I saw some blue uniforms over there."
The General, roused from the slumber which had long since overtaken him, shook his head. "Doubtful", he observed. "We've been waiting here for over a month and narry a sign of the colonials despite all our pleadings. It must have been a flight of swallows or some stray nuns."
Ensign Henderson took another look. "No", he cried in wonder. "We burned all the churches and religious establishments last week. And all the barns the week before that, so nowhere for swallows to roost. See! It is four American officers with their troops. There can be no doubt; as they draw nearer I can already see the patches in their breeches!"
And so it was. The Centre Column stood to arms, a blaze of scarlet glory in the morning sunshine. As soon as courriers were exchanged, battle would commence.
"Better late than never", mused General Natta, and went back to sleep...... [:)]