Napoleonic Wargame Club (NWC)

Sept. 2, 1812 - 0600 Hrs.

The red coat of a Hanoverian Guardsman stands out among the sea of green, Russian uniforms. Calmly perched on his magnificent steed, the veteran warrior peers through his spyglass at the scuttling blue hordes of French invaders. Hmmm, he thinks to himself.

Lowering his spyglass, he takes a pen in hand and scribbles a brief message on a piece of parchment. Calling for a dispatch rider, he hands the folded parchment to the Russian officer, sending him on his way to deliver the post to the venerable British Field Marshall who is in command of the Russian operations this day.

Raising his spyglass once again, he continues to survey the fields in front of him, patiently waiting for the storm to crash upon the rocks.

Sept 2nd, 1812, Gzhatsk – 0615 Hrs - Russian Position

“No you can’t ride out there and hurry them along!” says the British Field Marshall to his impatient steed. Fortunately for the rider, his redoubtable mount has decided that the number of Frenchman, forty thousand or so, are a few too many for him to take down alone. The magnificent animal turns his head to the left and right to look over the stationary lines of Russian soldiers. With a snort of disdain at such a decidedly defensive posture, he begins to paw the ground in mounting frustration. So many Frenchmen to kill and the whole army is just standing stock still!

Sept 2nd, 1812, Gzhatsk – 0630 Hrs - Russian Position

Dispatching two elite Frenchmen for every one they lose, the Russian Jagers withdraw into the woods, and then swing back into a blocking position along the wooded path. Reloading their muskets, they prepare to once again trade the accuracy of their bullets for the lives of the Ogre’s Minions.

The Hanoverian Brigadier observes the impact of Russian cannon balls into two French battalions that had rashly advanced across open ground. A grin spreads across his face as he watches one of the battalions break and run for the protection afforded at the rear of the French lines. Lowering his spy glass, he turns to his left and speaks to his Russian ADC. Still grinning he says, “If I tell you something in English, will you translate it to the men?”

“Da, Comrade General”, replies the Russian officer.

Taking a page from the book of one of his most trusted subordinates, the Hanoverian Brigadier begins to sing…

“Alouette, gentle Alouette , Alouette, you’ll be featherless today!”

A sly grin now crosses the face of the Russian officer as he translates the lyrics into Russian and adds his deep baritone voice to that of his Hanoverian ally. The stoic Russian soldiers standing nearby also start to grin as the lyrics of the song are interpreted for their understanding. In small groups, they too begin to sing adding an ever increasing number of voices and volume to the tune that was started by their commanding officer. In a very short amount of time, rank upon serried rank of the Russian soldiers project their song across the intervening valley where it can clearly be understood by their advancing French foes.

“Alouette, gentle Alouette , Alouette, you’ll be featherless today!”

Many miles away, in command of his own contingent of Russian troops, Der Hannoversche Wurger begins to smile, although he is not entirely sure why.

Sept 2nd, 1812, Gzhatsk – 0715 Hrs - Russian Position

The Hanoverian Brigadier listens intently to the increasing exchange of musket fire in the woods to his front. Each volley occurs further away, meaning that the Jagers continue to advance and take ground. The casualty reports indicate that nearly two Frenchmen continue to fall for every Russian soldier that is lost. A good start to the opening round. The experienced veteran knows that the enemy casualties will increase dramatically once they begin their assault on the Russian defences. If we don’t kill them all first, he thinks to himself.

Boom! A Russian battery on the far right fells three more French Dragoons. Boom! A second battery comes into action and another three French horsemen topple to the ground, never to rise again.

Scanning the open field to his right, he sees a group of French skirmishers closely pursued by a second group of Russian Jagers. The fleeing Frenchmen are quickly overtaken and immediately throw their weapons to the ground while raising their hands in the air to surrender. The Brigadier grins at the sight, but as he moves his observation a bit further to the right, he spies something that makes him laugh out loud. There, perched at the top on an embankment, are three squadrons of Cossacks capering and dancing while taunting a much larger group of French cavalry which is located on the far side of the stream. One of the Cossacks leaps into a standing position on his saddle, turns about, and exposes his bare bum in the direction of the French horsemen. The French horsemen are obviously stunned.

Yes, this is shaping up to be a good battle indeed, chuckles the Hanoverian to himself and he pulls out a quill and begins to write out a new order.

0730 hrs: French Position:

The Right Wing of La Grande Armee advances against the extended left flank of the Russian forces.

The fantassins celebrate the occupation of the villages of Verobi and Felisovo, the latter of which includes an important objective hex...

"Huzzah!" the shouts erupt and carry over to the hills upon which the stolid peasant soldiers of the Tsar await the further storm of French assault.

Regards,

Posting snapshots of an Allied turn on the Coalition Arms is perfectly acceptable.

No Frenchies allowed so it gives us all a vantage point on the action.

I have done that with a couple of my games in the past and our fellow Allied members appreciated it.

_________________


Generalfeldmarschall Wilhelm Prinz Peters von Dennewitz

3. Husaren-Regiment, Reserve-Kavallerie, Preußischen Armee-Korps

Honarary CO of Garde-Ulanen Regiment, Garde-Grenadier Kavallerie

NWC Founding Member

For Club Games: I prefer the Single Phase mode of play. I prefer to play with the following options OFF:

MDF, VP4LC, NRO, MTD, CMR, PR, MIM, NDM, OMR (ver 4.07)

I thought you advocated a 10 turn delay between the post and the actual game when placing an image of the battle in the Coalition Arms. We only just completed Turn 10, so there is really not a lot to see yet using your 10 turn delay method. I used to put together Powerpoint presentations of my battles, so that you could easily watch the movements turn by turn. Of course, I would only release those after the battle was completed, but they could well have been used for training purposes, although every battle plays differently depending on your opponent. I really made them for my own benefit so I could look back and study the engagement from an after action perspective. I sent them to Marco each time one was concluded, but he never really seemed all that interested in them so I just finally quit doing it.

Do you still have any of them? I'd love to see them, especially the areas where you put good cutlery to use.

_________________
Field Marshal Mark Nelms

Absolutely, sir! I will dispatch a courier to your headquarters at once. [Salute!]

Sept 2nd, 1812, Gzhatsk – 0730 Hrs - Russian Position

The British Field Marshall smiles at the rousing cries of “Huzzah!” that eminates from the French right. Apparently it takes very little to make his French enemies happy, as the capture of an uncontested village seems to demonstrate. Turning to his Russian Liaison Officer he says, “What do you think Georgi? Should we just go ahead and surrender now?”

“Da, Comrade Field Marshall, that would probably be wise” replies the senior Russian officer, “but I am afraid that if we do, we are both going to have to answer to your horse.”

Sir Muddy’s fine steed bobs his head up and down, snorting loudly for emphasis.

Meanwhile, in the woods near the center of the field, one hundred elite Wurtemburg skirmishers throw down their muskets in panic and surrender to the Russian Jagers who have expertly surrounded them.

Sept 2nd, 1812, Gzhatsk – 0745 Hrs - Russian Position

The exposed, bare bums of the Russian peasant horsemen prove too much for the discipline of the French Chassuers. Enraged, the French cavalry plunges across the intervening stream, ascends the steep embankment and crashes into the lone squadron of Cossacks. Although heavily outnumbering their Russian opponents, the casualties are not really very disparate. Undaunted, the Cossacks withdraw to a position of defense from which they continue to taunt the exhausted, French horsemen. As the Cossacks withdraw, the French cavalry grow wide eyed at the sight of a Russian battery in a fortified position that has casually turned its guns on the hapless Chassuers.

Boom!! The cannons roar, and still more French horsemen fall eternally silent.

Semaphore dispatch from Gzhatsk, Sept 2nd, 1812

0800 hrs: The French Right Wing advances through the villages of Felisovo and Vorobi, and towards the twin hills beyond.

Co's of Volitgeurs moving rapidly up the hillsides, seize the critical objective points.

Elsewhere, in the dense woods further to the north, bitter skirmishes continue, with the bayonet drinking it's awful fill.

Regards,

Sept 2nd, 1812, Gzhatsk – 0800 Hrs - Russian Position

The French Chasseurs hastily turn about and retreat back down the slope they had just ascended with such great effort, abandoning their dead and dying comrades still lying in the deadly firing arc of the Russian battery.

The Russian staff officer pours over his maps, continuously muttering to himself, “Where are they? Where are they?”

The Hanoverian Brigadier lowers his spyglass, leans sideways in his saddle and points to a concealed location on the Russian’s map. “They are right here”, he says with absolute confidence.

The Russian looks up at the foreign officer who is temporarily serving as the second in command of the mighty, Russian army. His brow furrows as he replies, “How can you know that, Comrade General?”

The Hanoverian grins at the inquisitive Russian officer and says, “I just do. Instinct I suppose.” Turning back to the field, he raises his spyglass and continues, “And when the Old Grumblers emerge from hiding, we will kill them just like all of the rest.”

Meanwhile, in the center woods, several hundred more elite Wurtemburg skirmishers throw down their arms and surrender to the relentless assault of the Russian Jagers.

Sept 2nd, 1812, Gzhatsk – 0800 Hrs - Russian Position

Ten Cossacks ride up the hill to the headquarters of the Russian Army. In the center of the formation, rides a French officer who does not look too pleased at the nature of his escort. The riders approach to within twenty feet of the red coated, British Field Marshall that is in overall charge of the army’s operations this day.

“Comrade Field Marshal Muddy, sir”, says the Russian officer in charge of the escort, “Comrade General Jones instructed us to deliver our latest French ‘guest’ to you, sir.”

The muddy Marshal raises an eyebrow at the fancy uniform worn by the Frenchmen who sits before him. “And just exactly who might you be, sir” asks the British officer of his petulant opponent.

“I am General de Division Jean Gabriel Marchand, 1st Count Marchand, and I have been sent here as an emissary of our benevolent Empereur Bonaparte to accept your immediate and unconditional surrender.”

The Cossack commander grins at the Frenchman’s tale. “Our Jagers captured him in the central woods, Comrade Field Marshal, where the French puppets of Wurttemberg are being shown a rather rough time. If he is indeed an emissary of The Ogre, he is most certainly not a willing one.”

“I see”, says the British Marshal as he meets the gaze of the French General. “For simplicity’s sake, how about we just refer to you as ‘The Prisoner’ for now.”

“You cannot make me talk, messier. I will not divulge any information to you. I am loyal to Le Tondu!”

“Well, I don’t intend to try to make you talk General Marchand. No real need for that, as Old Boney himself is skulking about this field somewhere. Once we throw the Corsican Runt into a Russian sack, we will find out everything we need to know from him. The man actually talks more than even you do.”

General Marchand scowls at his British adversary, but does not reply as he is escorted away, the Cossack commander remaining behind for a moment.

“Comrade Field Marshall, sir , General Jones also said to inform you that the French have committed the Old Guard in the center woods. He said to tell you that he may have been a bit overzealous in the aggressive manner in which he directed the Russian Jager battalions. His tactics seem to have evoked a rather strong response, but not to worry as he is still holding the Opolchenie in reserve to deal with the Arrogant Grumblers of France.”

Sir Muddy grins at this remark. “Well please instruct the good Brigadier to be careful. Those French veterans are a most dangerous lot. If he can stop them with the Opolchenie, I will personally pin a medal on him myself.”

Sept 2nd, 1812
0830 hrs:

Hearing the last comment from his captors regarding sending militia to fight the French Guard, GD Marchand cannot restrain himself, but turns and declares to them, "My good sir's, I must remind you, that members of our Guard were once militia too. They were common men who answered the call of Lady Liberty, and rallied to the cause of saving the newly founded republic.

"These same militia learned the skills of warfare in the Po river valley, beneath the shadows of the Pyramids, in their passage of the Alps and courage during the darkest moments of Marengo.

"They have surely earned the respect of their foes in the glorious victories of Austerlitz, Jena, and Wagram."

The count paused, and then continued, "And I assure you, the Guards do not demean the enemy they meet upon the field, for they know, better than all else, that the warriors they face, may well themselves some day, earn the honor of membership in the Guard formations of their own armies."

Having finished, the General de Division allows himself to be led away.

Regards,