Wednesday, thanks to open schedules and open roads, the Mad Padre was able to come down for a a day of gaming. We decided upon some Sharp Practice to start, since we both like the game and he wanted a 28mm Napoleonics fix. My Russian church being ready made me settle upon a game in 1812 and Bavarians vs Russians. If my German church had been ready we might have gone with southern Germany in 1813 and Bavarians vs Prussians.
The Russians had a 2x group formation of Jaegers, 2x three group formations of Grenadiers and a 3x group formation of Musketeers, plus a group of Uhlans and a medium gun. The Bavarians had a 3x group formation of Grenadiers, 2x three group formations of Fusiliers and a 2x group formation of Schutzen, plus a medium gun and a group of Chevauxleger. The objective was to capture the village for the food and shelter. We randomly rolled for placement of Deployment Points and ended up coming on opposite corners to each other.
Der Harfner was shouting at them. "Schnell! Die Grunen will beat us to the cabbages if you don't hurry!"
Hans was hungry. Everyone was hungry. The foraging was getting thin around Polotsk and with Cossacks hitting their bread wagons they had to go further afield and in greater strength to bring in supplies. This village promised food and fuel. If they could get it before the Russians did.
"I hope we find a nice pig" Hans panted as he caught up with Franz. "Or maybe a larder stuffed with sausages!" Franz smiled ruefully at his optimistic friend. "I'll be happy for a sack of potatoes."
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| Fusiliers marching on |
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| Cheveuxleger pass the church |
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| Russian uhlans approach! |
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| Schutzen move up |
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| Grenadiers threaten Bavarian right |
Hauptmann Scharf pointed with his sword. "First section into that cottage! Schnell!"
Hans kicked the door in and they dashed inside, green coated Schutzen taking cover at windows, beside the wood pile, behind the garden fence. A musket ball splintered the window sash as Franz peered outside. "Scheiss!" He took aim with his rifle and fired. "Got him!"
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| Schutzen contest the village with Jaegers |
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| Action Front! Gun gets into action |
From a cottage window Hans could see the Grenadiers form line outside the village and advance past the old weathered church. The artillery attached to their expedition unlimbered quickly beside the church yard.
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| Bavarian infantry deploying |
The battle built in intensity. Hans heard bugle calls from the cavalry and saw horsemen in a swirling melee in the field. It seemed that a lot of their troopers fell and the rest galloped away! Franz, busy reloading, yelled at him "Hans! get that one!" He turned to the fight at hand and drew a bead on a green jaeger firing at them from the barnyard across the street. Bang! He was rewarded by the figure falling back and his shako rolling out into the dust.
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| Uhlans unseat many Bavarian cavalry |
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| "You like The Duellists?! Me too!" |
The regular crashing drum roll of section volleys told them that the Grenadiers were getting into the fight now too. Hans ducked back as a Russian musket ball smacked into the window frame.
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| Grenadiers begin sending controlled volleys into the approaching Russians |
A thunderous boom rolled across the village. Hans saw the church disappear behind a cloud of smoke as the cannon opened fire on the Uhlans.
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| Bavarian artillery destroys remaining uhlans. The Mad Padre is smiling any way |
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| The action is general, lots of musketry in the village and surrounding fields |
Gerhardt staggered back, blood flowing from his shoulder. Hans pulled a cloth from his haversack to wrap around the wound. Feldwebel Harfner came along, pointing out targets, steadying the line, his own head bandaged from a glancing wound. "I'll take care of this lame duck, you get back to potting Russians!"
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| One of Mike's grenadier formations cracks under the accumulated shock |
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| Fusiliers lock down the Bavarian left and help themselves to the Communion wine |
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| Russian grenadiers get a final volley off |
Slowly the firing from the jaegers across the road dribbled away and Hans could see individuals starting to run away across the fields behind the cottages. Then suddenly it was quiet. The artillery wasn't booming. The volleys from the Grenadiers and Fusiliers weren't rolling across the fields like a drum line.
Cautiously Franz stood up. "They've gone." He patted his haversack looking for his pipe. "I hope this farmer has some tobacco to go with your sausages, Hans!"
With Russian Force Morale at 0, and Bavarian Force Morale still at 9, we stopped for a tea break.
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