French Indian Wars Sharp Practice Event
Yes, it's the General's blog's first anniversary or at least it was at the weekend (it was also the anniversary of Mozart's birth; something to be even more grateful for and much more worthy of celebrating!). And I celebrated it in in fine style down at Bristol Independent Gaming where David Hunter, a noted fan-boy of Sharp Practice (and why not!) had concocted yet another fiendish weekend of French Indian Wars games for a group of fellow enthusiasts.
A few folk have already blogged about the weekend in more detail so I am not going to go into depth. I am going to say that as ever, the event was extremely well planned and executed. Set in 1757 in the woods of North America; it pitted the British against the old adversaries, the French and their allies, the various local Indian tribes.
There were some 25 folk in total who took part over the two days and they were, without exception, the nicest chuffing bunch I had come across in a long time. The venue, Bristol Independent Gaming, though a tad chilly, is great; really good shop, decent selection of snacks and drinks run by very nice people; Bristol wargamers have much to be grateful for in my opinion.
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| Setting up on Friday night. Rob and Dave do some scenic planning. Rob provided some fantastic trees for the event. |
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| Joe and Leigh work on their stuff, the slackers. Besides providing gaming space, B-I-G also has an area set aside for building and painting as well as for relaxing and reading or chewing the breeze |
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| Tables set up and gaming begun. This was actually two separate games on adjoining tables....no one knows why.......... |
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| Another well thought out table layout. I believe David works from historical accounts for the table layouts |
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| A beach landing, 18th century style. As you can see the terrain rises from the beach which certainly adds to the cinematic effect of the game |
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| One of the small townships in the British territory that was subjected to raids by the French and the Indians over the weekend. As you can imagine, house prices in this area have fallen dramatically due to recent events |
So anyway, that's the very general overview, now to my involvement or rather my forces involvement. I took along a force of British Redcoats from the 44th of Foot, the same regiment I had represented in my last visit to a Saindoux campaign. As I had sold that collection a while back I had to put together another and this I did using the most excellent figures available for this period from Galloping Major
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| the 44th of Foot forces for A Most Despicable Place (that's a bit of a tongue twister, isn't it). Three groups of regular Line Infantry led by Captain Campbell Menzies Kennedy and two groups of Rodgers Rangers led by Lieutenant Galbraith. This represents all that I had painted up to the campaign event. There are extra figures in this photo who didn't take part in the week ends games |
Captain Campbell Menzies Kennedy is a man on a mission. He is hell bent on avenging the cruel death of his younger brother, Lieutenant William Frederick George Kennedy, at the hands of the French allies, the Indians. He trusts none of them, not even the ones who are allied to the British.
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| Lieutenant William Frederick George Kennedy meets a grisly end |
Their first game involved them and a half company of Grenadiers (Ben Wallis' force. Ben was the overall British commander over the weekend) making their way up an eerily quiet vale on their way back from Fort Frontennac....
Ball deep in Hell and highwater
Deep in the primitive forest the column of red coated infantry made their cumbersome way along a little used track. Since the fall of Fort Frontennac and their subsequent escape from it the column had been making it's way back towards British territory and safety. They were now a days march from that safety. Ahead, 20 long miles ahead, lay the town of Big Bottom where the men could rest and be fed, a swift horse procured hopefully and a messenger sent on to the main British garrison where news of the their defeat and arrival could be passed onto the British commander. General Abercrombie.
But till then, mused Captain Campbell Menzies Kennedy, they still had to traverse this hostile territory. The stillness and the silence of the forest bothered him. The column was noisy enough though it was the muted noise of men grateful to have escaped death, wounding or imprisonment; focussed on making their way back to safety. No, the forest was too quiet. No wind disturbed the branches or the damp, oppressive air between the trees. Beyond the drone of innumerable mosquitoes, the occasionally soft spoken comment from one of the soldiers and the muted rush of a river up ahead the forest seemed devoid of life; where was the chatter of the birds.
The column slowed and word cam back down the line of men that the head of the column had reached the river.
Kennedy pushed his way to the front where the tall form of the grenadier major, Major Wallace stood with one of his officers and Lieutenant Abercrombie.
Lieutenant Abercrombie was an annoyance; a nephew of General Abercrombie; he had been attached to Kennedy's company to gain experience in the field and to get him out from under his uncle's feet. The young man new he was resented by the officers and men of the company but the latter he didn't give a fig for and the former he made no effort to endear himself too. As he had made plain from the start, this attachment was merely a stepping stone to purchasing his captaincy. And the good Lord knew there would be plenty of vacant captaincies before this war was through, thought Kennedy.
Lieutenant Abercrombie wasn't bad soldier though. He had shown himself steady enough under fire at the fort and appeared to be thoughtful and sensible, after a fashion, but it was his youth, position and conceit that rankled. That and his practice of putting forward his own opinion to his seniors without it being sought or requested. And he was now engaging in this practice once more.
"Personally I think we should make a bridge of some sort; either that or stop here and send the Rangers to look for a shallower crossing place either up or down river" Lieutenant Abercrombie was saying "The baggage train will struggle to cross here". The tall major of grenadiers smiled indulgently at the lieutenant "You're opinion is noted, Mr Abercrombie, however we haven't the time for such niceties as indulging in bridge building nor to send scouting parties out for the benefit of our mules. No, we cross here and we start now" so saying he turned to Captain Kennedy.
"Captain Kennedy, since we are pushed for time we shall get our men across first with one party of Rangers whilst the remainder of Rangers and our Light Bobs cover us and we shall establish a bridgehead " he smiled wryly at Lieutenant Abercrombie "then, we are on terra firma, we'll get the baggage train across then the Rangers can cross; okay?" Kennedy nodded his assent and, speaking to the lieutenant "Come, Mr Abercrombie, let's get the lads across. Mind and keep your pistol out of the water, you might have need of it soon" Abercrombie looked narrowly at Kennedy "Ah mean yer flintlock, Mr Abercrombie, As you ken, Ah'm not given to bawdy" Abercrombie nodded stiffly and followed Kennedy.
Leading the way down the river bank to the waters edge. Though not very wide, the river looked deep and ran fast. Quickly scanning the trees line beyond the far bank, Kennedy lifted his pistol and haversack above his head, muttered a short prayer under his breath and stepped into the fast flowing water.
A few minutes later Kennedy was standing on the far bank. By now the first of the men had crossed and the remainder, mimicking their captain and holding their weapons and powder horns out of the water were forging their way across the river. The water was only waist deep but the current was strong. Kennedy began chivvying the men on the bank forward into some sort of formation and away from the river bank. It was important they didn't linger and slow up the column as they emerged from the river. And equally important that they didn't bunch together like a gaggle of old women.
As Kennedy formed the first eight men into a group a ragged volley of musket fire erupted from the woods around them. The man Kennedy had just shoved into formation fell as a musket ball struck him. Around him the air was alive with the whizz of musket balls, the sharp crack of musket fire and the cries of the Indians who were firing on them.
Stepping back from the cowering men in front of him, Kennedy roared "Stand up, you rascals; stand up!! Form a line there! Face your front!" Responding automatically, the small group of redcoats stood up. Kennedy then shouted "Shoulder arms!" The men muskets flew up to their left arms. "Open order" at this the men spread apart slightly. "Open your pans!" The soldiers inclined to their left as the muskets swung down into their left hand and Kennedy led them through the loading procedure whilst behind them the remainder of the column struggled to get through the river. Behind him he heard a group of rangers returning fire at the Indians.
But till then, mused Captain Campbell Menzies Kennedy, they still had to traverse this hostile territory. The stillness and the silence of the forest bothered him. The column was noisy enough though it was the muted noise of men grateful to have escaped death, wounding or imprisonment; focussed on making their way back to safety. No, the forest was too quiet. No wind disturbed the branches or the damp, oppressive air between the trees. Beyond the drone of innumerable mosquitoes, the occasionally soft spoken comment from one of the soldiers and the muted rush of a river up ahead the forest seemed devoid of life; where was the chatter of the birds.
The column slowed and word cam back down the line of men that the head of the column had reached the river.
Kennedy pushed his way to the front where the tall form of the grenadier major, Major Wallace stood with one of his officers and Lieutenant Abercrombie.
Lieutenant Abercrombie was an annoyance; a nephew of General Abercrombie; he had been attached to Kennedy's company to gain experience in the field and to get him out from under his uncle's feet. The young man new he was resented by the officers and men of the company but the latter he didn't give a fig for and the former he made no effort to endear himself too. As he had made plain from the start, this attachment was merely a stepping stone to purchasing his captaincy. And the good Lord knew there would be plenty of vacant captaincies before this war was through, thought Kennedy.
Lieutenant Abercrombie wasn't bad soldier though. He had shown himself steady enough under fire at the fort and appeared to be thoughtful and sensible, after a fashion, but it was his youth, position and conceit that rankled. That and his practice of putting forward his own opinion to his seniors without it being sought or requested. And he was now engaging in this practice once more.
"Personally I think we should make a bridge of some sort; either that or stop here and send the Rangers to look for a shallower crossing place either up or down river" Lieutenant Abercrombie was saying "The baggage train will struggle to cross here". The tall major of grenadiers smiled indulgently at the lieutenant "You're opinion is noted, Mr Abercrombie, however we haven't the time for such niceties as indulging in bridge building nor to send scouting parties out for the benefit of our mules. No, we cross here and we start now" so saying he turned to Captain Kennedy.
"Captain Kennedy, since we are pushed for time we shall get our men across first with one party of Rangers whilst the remainder of Rangers and our Light Bobs cover us and we shall establish a bridgehead " he smiled wryly at Lieutenant Abercrombie "then, we are on terra firma, we'll get the baggage train across then the Rangers can cross; okay?" Kennedy nodded his assent and, speaking to the lieutenant "Come, Mr Abercrombie, let's get the lads across. Mind and keep your pistol out of the water, you might have need of it soon" Abercrombie looked narrowly at Kennedy "Ah mean yer flintlock, Mr Abercrombie, As you ken, Ah'm not given to bawdy" Abercrombie nodded stiffly and followed Kennedy.
Leading the way down the river bank to the waters edge. Though not very wide, the river looked deep and ran fast. Quickly scanning the trees line beyond the far bank, Kennedy lifted his pistol and haversack above his head, muttered a short prayer under his breath and stepped into the fast flowing water.
A few minutes later Kennedy was standing on the far bank. By now the first of the men had crossed and the remainder, mimicking their captain and holding their weapons and powder horns out of the water were forging their way across the river. The water was only waist deep but the current was strong. Kennedy began chivvying the men on the bank forward into some sort of formation and away from the river bank. It was important they didn't linger and slow up the column as they emerged from the river. And equally important that they didn't bunch together like a gaggle of old women.
As Kennedy formed the first eight men into a group a ragged volley of musket fire erupted from the woods around them. The man Kennedy had just shoved into formation fell as a musket ball struck him. Around him the air was alive with the whizz of musket balls, the sharp crack of musket fire and the cries of the Indians who were firing on them.
Stepping back from the cowering men in front of him, Kennedy roared "Stand up, you rascals; stand up!! Form a line there! Face your front!" Responding automatically, the small group of redcoats stood up. Kennedy then shouted "Shoulder arms!" The men muskets flew up to their left arms. "Open order" at this the men spread apart slightly. "Open your pans!" The soldiers inclined to their left as the muskets swung down into their left hand and Kennedy led them through the loading procedure whilst behind them the remainder of the column struggled to get through the river. Behind him he heard a group of rangers returning fire at the Indians.
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| The grenadiers and rangers begin the crossing |
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| Kennedy begins forming up his foremost group of his company as the Rangers, under Lt Galbraith, scramble up the river bank and start returning fire |
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| The Indians made good use of the cover to spring their ambush; the river slowing down the column and the terrain offering good fields of fire and concealment from view. The smoke of their muskets gave their firing positions away, allowing the British the chance top return fire |
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| "Fire!" Kennedy's small group joins the fray. |
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| As the men of the 44th attempt to ford the river, Major Wallace gets his grenadiers into line and pours fire into the Indians |
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| Engaged as they are with the enemy to their front; Kennedy's group are in their turn targeted by a group of Indians to their flank.Though they lose only one man, this fire is decidedly hot and Kennedy orders them to pull back to the river bank |
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| As Kennedy's group reaches the riverbank, Lieutenant Farquar Finbar Saunders, his second in command, manages to get the remainder of their men forward in line with the first group but it's too little too late as these first men have lost their nerve, despite Kennedy's threats and the liberal application of the flat of his sword blade, they begin to waiver. |
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| The British line is holding but only just.. |
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| Emboldened, the Indians begin to move in on their prey. |
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| ...who prepare to sell their lives dearly |
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| The threat grows as Indian appear behind the British |
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| But just as all appears lost, the Indians withdraw into the woods, leaving the British column battered and bruised |
The firing had stopped; the war cries had faded away and the only sound to be heard was the sounds of the wounded and dying, the NCOs and officers accounting for their men and the occasional scream as the Rangers finished off the wounded Indians in the woods.
Mopping the sweat from his brow with a rather tattered cambric handkerchief, Kennedy called to Lieutenant Saunders. "Mr Saunders, be so good as to check what ammunition we have left and make sure it gets redistributed equally. Those savages may be back soon. Oh, and let me know the butcher's bill when I return. I am off to confer with Major Wallace" Saunders nodded and replied "Certainly sir; right away". Kennedy paused "And well done, Mr Saunders, you did very well there; very creditable performance" Lieutenant Saunders nodded slightly "Thank you, sir; sir, your wounded!" Saunders had noticed the tear in the sleeve of Kennedy's jacket, and the darker red stain around it. "It'll wait, Mr Saunders, see that those more seriously wounded are tended to first" replied Kennedy, walking off towards the grenadiers.
"I can't make head nor tale of it, Campbell; they had us like pigs in a poke and off they go. Damned strange but there you are, that's the savage for you; no rhyme nor reason to him" said Major Wallace to Kennedy. They sat on a fallen log whilst the a bandage was placed on Kennedy's wound. "We must carry on though; now. he continued " Even now, those savages may be off collecting the rest of the tribes. If we sit here we'll be dead ducks". Kennedy nodded "We'll make start as soon as the men have dry powder and ball issued" so saying he stood up and wincing as he shrugged on his jacket "Shall we say within the hour" Wallace nodded "Yes, within the hour"
That was the first scenario. The British had four free moves and made it as far as the river before, unsurprisingly, the ambush was sprung. It was touch and go for the British but they gave as good as they got and it only because we ran out of time that we had to stop.
Thanks to Beth, James, Rodge and Ben for such a spiffing game. I really enjoyed it.
There's a few more batreps to come but that's enough for the moment; there's a glass of Glenlivet calling, despite the lateness of the hour.
pip pip,
Jimbob
