British Sappers & Miners

For a while now, I have been looking for some fellows to do sapping and mining work for the British army in my Peninsular War siege games. I already have some nicely authentic French sapeurs armed with pickaxes and shovels, and garbed in cuirasses and helments – these are from the LW and Strelets sets, and were kindly donated by Clive when he came to do some siege testing a couple of years ago.

It might appear to be an obvious subject for a plastic set, but no-one has done a British equivalent to date, so I have been keeping an eye open for conversion possibilities to balance things up. I have a few odd figures – also left by Clive – from the HaT British Marines and Sailors set, and even a couple from the Orion English Pirates set, who can serve well enough as men stripped down for serious digging. To these I have now added some men from Art Miniaturen’s nice set of Austrian engineers, plus a couple from the Finescale Factory set of French pontonniers (which I believe is now back in production, and available from SHQ), and a pair of officers from Falcata.

It occurred to me that an undressed man of any nationality is pretty much the same, so the possibility of these becoming Spanish by simply substituting a couple of specifically Spanish officers into the line-up is already noted. There is one of the Austrians that I attempted to fudge into a pre-1812 Royal Artificer who would need to be hidden or replaced as well.

Ideally I would have used officers with spyglasses or something more obviously specialized (I had ideas of modifying a British ensign so that he was holding a pole, but gave up on that one), but ended up with a couple of chaps lining things up with their swords – presumably with the intention of guarding their men while work goes on, or at least of pre-empting any possibility of disagreement about the task in hand.

As with their French opposite numbers, the men are individually mounted on 20mm discs, backed with magnets so they may stay on their movement trays, and the bases themselves are painted in the official house shade of Siege Mud which is used for siege equipment and engineering.

I’m a little bothered that the man with the wheelbarrow is easily recognizable as Hamish, with whom I played in a band for many years, but he doesn’t seem to be bothered so I won’t consider the matter further.

Another ticked box for the siege games – the British may now dig holes and tunnels whenever they like. Next big gap is some decent trenches and earthworks. Don’t go holding your breath.

Hi-ho, hi-ho – plus Stephen and Buddy

…it's off to work we go

The prospect of getting back to some siege gaming (an activity which – strangely – was actually discouraged by my Peninsular War campaign) has got me sifting through the boxes of not-quite projects to get some more engineering and supply units finished off.

First hit was an easy one – a little group of British infantry pioneers, individually based. Right away, I have to admit that these are not really a siege-type unit – there will be proper sappers and miners for that later on, with the regulation brown bases. These fellows exist primarily because it seems like a good idea, and there is already in existence a French equivalent. Next admission is that I don’t actually have any rules to allow the pioneers to influence the game, but now that I have a unit for each side I am more likely to do something about that.

They are, as you will see, from Minifigs “interim” range – the one after the S-Range and before the current range of clinically obese chaps. There isn’t much available in metal in this scale. My French sapeurs are a mixture of Kennington and Falcata castings, which gives some variety of poses. I had intended to use S-Range Brits for the pioneers, but the S-Range pioneer is a disappointingly weedy looking sculpt, who looks as if he is struggling with his axe, and might have trouble sharpening a pencil. So it’s the intermediates – these are BN55, vintage circa 1974?

Since this is an informal collective (pool?) of bods from various regiments, they have mixed facings. If you want someone to lose that gate for you, or to help with building a bridge, these could be just the fellows. I regret that there are no beards on show, but the castings have no beards. I tried painting a beard on, but the effect was funnier than I had hoped.

Subject 2: Stephen Fry

Of late, I have given up trying to paint soldiers with the TV on. Wearing my painting glasses, I cannot see the TV, never mind work out what is on the screen, so these days I listen to music while painting. This weekend it has been the usual mixed bag – Mississippi John Hurt (brilliant, but after 20 minutes it all sounds the same, and is always in the same key, which doesn’t help), Buffalo Springfield (disappointingly dated, and not as good as I remembered), Herbie Hancock (excellent – I played River, which is an album of Joni Mitchell’s music, with guest vocals provided by numerous worthies, including Leonard Cohen and – erm – Joni Mitchell), Cassandra Wilson (terrific, and sexy in a slightly weird way), and a boxed set of Mendelssohn’s symphonies. Intuitively, it seems odd that Buffalo Springfield seemed more dated than Mendelssohn, but hey.

One of the things I did not watch on the TV was Stephen Fry’s QI show, which makes me decidedly uncomfortable. If you haven’t seen it, it consists of a sort of bogus panel game, which is entirely designed to perpetuate the legend that SF is the cleverest fellow on the planet. The panel members do not always sit easily in their role as stooges, but the show can be very amusing nonetheless.

It’s hard to put my finger on why Stephen’s public image grates with me. I actually quite like him – he is unpredictable and witty and frequently endearing. I just get very fed up with the constant force-feeding of his TV packaging as a National Treasure – fed up in the same way that I became fed up with the constant overexposure of David Jason and the late John Thaw (great talents, both) on British TV in past years.

No amount of TV is going to make me accept that Mr Fry is an intellectual, or a great scholar, or Oscar Wilde, or Dr Johnson. My attention is limited – I will find it more convenient if he remains a comedian, an occasional writer and – to be brutal – a TV personality. I am happy with him in that more digestible role.

I hasten to add that I have huge affection for the old Jeeves & Wooster series he did with Hugh Lawrie, which remains one of the very brightest gems of British television in my humble opinion. In fact, now I come to remember that I have an Amazon gift voucher which someone very kindly sent me for Christmas, I must have a look to see what boxed sets of DVDs are available for that series. While I’m at it, I should check out what there is of the old black-and-white Tony Hancock shows. You have to be careful with this – it would be awful to be confronted with the fact that – like Buffalo Springfield on Saturday – these shows are not as good as I think they were. Tricky stuff, nostalgia.

One of the very strangest bits of Stephen Fry was when they sent him on a trip to America – touring in a London cab. His visit to Chicago included an interview – in the cab, naturally – with Buddy Guy, the great urban blues legend. The idea of Fry empathizing with Buddy’s recollection of what life was like for an impoverished black musician in 1950s Chicago is bizarre. I suspect that they could have achieved a comparable amount of empathy by getting Stephen to travel round Chicago in his taxi with a grizzly bear – he is affable and enthusiastic and correct, but these worlds never quite collided, did they?

Napoleonic Heavy Hardware – British 10-inch Howitzers

Once painted, these will be British 10 inch iron howitzers

Yesterday I finally got around to one of those open-ended refurb projects that seem to hang about for years. There’s always higher-priority stuff to be getting on with – you know the sort of thing.

This follows from a sort of minor-league New Year resolution I made, to get back to some Napoleonic siege games. There are a number of things I need to do for this – one is to arrange for some more satisfactory representation of trenches than my current unpainted wooden blocks. The Really Good Excuse for not doing anything about this at present is that I want to be sure the game is working properly before I commit to a mass of specialized terrain equipment. OK – can’t do anything with that one – put a sort of half-tick in the box.

Next thing I wanted was a hex-free table for sieges (and other things) – well I’ve done that one – the reverse side of my main warboards is now plain green, and sufficiently free of geometric cells of any type to satisfy even the most contemptuous of my correspondents. Tick in box – good.

The third, and most fiddly, thing is to make some sense of the pile of artillery equipment I’ve picked up from eBay and charitable donations, and either make it into proper batteries or get rid of it. Yesterday’s target was a small stock of Hinchliffe 20mm scale British 10” howitzers which I have managed to collect. Some were in poor shape as the result of many years of lying around in someone’s spares boxes, some needed attention because they were acquired from a well-known British eBay seller of whom I haven’t seen any trace for a while, who used to be famous for offering some real gun and wagon rarities, but always with the axles untrimmed (which gives something of the appearance of a pre-war Morgan 3-wheeler), always buried hub-deep in a bed of Evil Tetrion, and always finished in some astonishing industrial varnish which could withstand nuclear attack.

I spent an amusing evening levering things out of Tetrion, snipping and sawing axles to the right length, scraping grunge off wheels, and replacing a few wheels from the spares box if they couldn’t be rescued. A bit of superglue and we are making progress. Now they just need to be painted correctly (iron barrels, please), but there’s no immediate rush for that since I have to paint gun crews for them. Good so far, though – that’s pretty much a tick as well.

The M1800 Bromefield 10” iron howitzer is a bit of a shadowy fellow. If Frank Hinchliffe hadn’t included one in his celebrated 20mm horse-&-musket period artillery equipment (you know – the range that famously vanished – not only did they disappear, but some would have us believe they had never existed) then we might all be happily unaware of the things. Some years ago, with a bit of poking around, I learned that these guns were used at the British siege of Flushing, and then went into store and never saw the light of day until the Crimean War.

A shame for the 20mm Peninsular War enthusiast who would like some for his siege train; it’s an interesting model, with the gun mounted on what is obviously a garrison-type carriage with large wheels mounted at the muzzle end for road travel. Apart from the 18pdr gun available from Finescale Factory (now, heaven be praised, available from SHQ as part of the Kennington range) and also as part of the current Hinchliffe 25mm catalogue (explain the presence of an exact 1/72 model in this range, in your own words…), there is not a lot available for people like me who are weird enough to  wish to try tabletop sieges, so a model of a 10” howitzer – albeit rarer than hen’s teeth – would be a real help.

Well, as a result of further poking about, I have some good news on this front. They were used in the Peninsular. So there. Only a bit, but they were there.

My sources are Major-General John T Jones’ Journal of Sieges (Vol.1) and the appropriate volume of the Dickson Manuscript – both of these gentlemen were present when the Allied siege train at the (unsuccessful) first British siege of Badajoz in May 1811 included, I believe, 4 of these howitzers.

They were not very successful. Their lack of success was rather overshadowed by the failure of the vintage heavy brass guns provided from Lisbon, which drooped badly when they were required to provide continuous bombardment, but they failed nonetheless. Jones notes that two of the howitzers were included in the batteries attacking the fort of San Christobal, and two were in Battery no.5 (I think) attacking Badajoz Castle. He explains that they were removed from the transport carriages when mounted in battery, and were to be used at a maximum elevation of 30 degrees. He also observes that the Portuguese officer in charge of the battery confronting the castle failed to observe the maximum elevation instruction, as a result of which the guns broke their carriages. They are recorded as “damaged by own fire”.

Portuguese officer or not, they did not make any further appearance during the Peninsular War as far as I can tell, so presumably were stored away for 40 years until the Crimean War.

As you will see, I seem to have more of these howitzers than did the Allied army in 1811, but that’s near enough for me. If I am going to enact sieges which did not actually happen, it does not constitute much more of an offence against authenticity if the besiegers have equipment which they could have used if only they had chosen to do so.

You’ll see more of these once I have painted them and recruited gunners.

Pictures from Dawson, Dawson & Summerfield's excellent "Napoleonic
Artillery" (Crowood, 2007) of a 19th Century model of the 10-inch howitzer.
The photos are used without permission - please buy the book!

The Chester Trip

Evidence - there's not a lot of contemporary stuff left, but here the repair to the main
breach in the wall is clearly visible

On Sunday, I went down to Chester for a few days looking at the ECW sites. I went with an old friend, whose name – as it happens – is Chester. Merely a happy coincidence, but I shall take care to make it clear to which Chester I am referring, as necessary.

Our preparation for the trip was mostly in reading John Barratt’s fine The Great Siege of Chester, and booking ourselves on to a couple of guided tours.

Monday we walked around the walls – there is a very good set of visitor information boards for the ECW period, featuring excellent artists’ impressions of how the various locations looked in the 17^th Century. As far as we can tell, these painted views are not available in any publication or online – I am still checking, but they probably should be.

In the afternoon we went for a guided walk around the battlefield at Rowton Moor (about 4 miles outside Chester’s walls) with Ed Abrams, who offers a fine blend of enthusiasm and expertise – his Civil War Tours enterprise is heartily recommended.

In the evening, we had arranged to have dinner at The Brewery Tap, in Bridge Street, which was the home of Francis Gamul during the siege, and is where Charles I spent the nights before and after Rowton Moor. I was very pleased with this little bit of historical tie-in (and the food was great). I guess our meal was rather more cheerful than Charles Stuart’s must have been the night after the battle. In passing, I was also delighted to learn that Gamul’s daughter was christened Lettuce, a name which appears to have drifted out of fashion lately.

Original, with new bits - the Water Tower, near the old port

A tax called murage was collected to pay for maintenance of the walls. The
officials in charge of this were called Murringers - here's a list of some of them 

Captain Morgan's cannon - OK, it's a monument - certainly, an iron gun
carriage would take a bit of shifting

Gone but not forgotten

Chester (the person) at the Phoenix Tower. Legend has it that King
Charles watched the battle of Rowton Moor from the top. He
must have had remarkable eyesight - you can't see Rowton from here.

Looking down Foregate Street from the Eastgate - much of this part of the city
was destroyed in the siege, and most of what you can see in this picture is Victorian

Eastgate Clock

Near the South-East corner of the old city - this area saw some of the most fierce bombardment

The rear portion of this pub was the house of Francis Gamul, who was Charles' host
at the time of Rowton Moor

The scene of the first stages of Rowton Moor - there are three modern villages
built on the old battlefield

Ed Abrams, the expert guide (left), discusses the role of dragoons at Rowton with Chester

There are very few contemporary buildings still visible at Rowton - this one, by
local tradition, may have been a dressing station for the Royalist wounded.
The farmer has refused permission to survey the field.

This is almost the only official recognition of the fact that an important
battle was fought here. The monument is close to what is thought to be a mass
burial in an old lime pit.

Tuesday morning we joined Ed’s colleague Viv (who was in costume) for a tour of the Civil War sites within the city, so we were back on the walls again. Informative and very entertaining – again, recommended.

Behind many of the shops in The Rows, in the old city of Chester, are these vaulted
medieval cellars, which were used as storehouses and also as bomb shelters during the bombardment

The Bear and Billet - this pub was originally the house of the keeper of the old
bridge over the Dee, and the copious windows were originally access to a warehouse,
to store goods coming over from Wales

Different time, different approach. As roads improved and commercial transport
became larger, gates changed from  being a means of keeping enemies out to a way
of letting friends in. The Wolf Gate on the right is one of the original gates, the
much larger New Gate next to it is clearly intended to give a prestigious welcome to
the city.

On the Wednesday, we set out on the trail of King Charles. We had intended to move on to the battlefield at Montgomery, south of Welshpool, but the weather warnings for the following day were a bit alarming, and we decided, since Montgomery is not far from the same latitude as Birmingham, that we should not stray so far south. In the event, we went to have a quick look at Denbigh Castle, which is where Charles stayed after his visit to Chester. We stayed overnight at Maeshafn, near Mold, and the next day we had a rather stressful drive home through howling gales and very serious rain. No real problems for us, but we saw a number of large trucks which had blown over, or blown off the road.

This is fine - what has become a standard approach - but I have some misgivings.
Jolly signboards give bilingual information so that Miss Williams' class from the
primary school can identify with life in a medieval castle, and it's great that kids
have such a resource available, but you won't find very much about the actual
history of the place. I checked in Denbigh town library, and there wasn't much there,
either. Is there a tacit assumption that primary schools are the only people who visit such sites?