Yesterday I attended a wargame in the company of Stryker and Goya, at Stryker's house. We played an excellent Napoleonic game based on the Battle of Ligny, using Stryker's Muskets & Marshals rules.
I'll attempt to put together a proper mini-report later in the week, once I've sorted out my photos. By that time, with luck, Stryker himself will have done a blog post, featuring his own (much better) pictures. For the moment, suffice to say that a very good time was had by all, history was not overturned, and Stryker's cleverly-crafted scenario worked really well. Once again, many thanks to our host for his kind hospitality and a sumptuous luncheon - a lot of work, and much appreciated.
Completely separate from the main story, a couple of odd things happened to me yesterday.
Stock photo
(1) On a bright, clear morning, at about 08:30 on my way north, I suddenly drove into a bank of dense fog in the middle of the Queensferry Crossing, the new road bridge over the Firth of Forth. Not a problem, but definitely a strange feeling to suddenly be driving along with nothing visible further away than about 15 feet - the barriers and the bridge superstructure just vanished. Only lasted about 30 seconds, but I'm very glad there was only light traffic. From then on my trip was, as before, clear and sunny.
(2) Rather more spooky. While I was getting ready to go to bed, around midnight, I raised the roller blind on the skylight in the attic bedroom, and was surprised to find that someone had scrawled a cross on the window. It was completely dark outside, but the room light showed up the marking very clearly. It was on the outside, and it looked as though someone had drawn a very rough St George's cross with their finger, right across the window - it seemed to be a light grey colour. At first I thought someone was playing a joke on me - it was a definite cross - but since it was on the outside that's not possible. There's only the roof out there.
The vertical stroke was pretty firm - quite straight, about 1cm wide and bang in the centre, top to bottom. The horizontal was more uneven and wiggled a bit, but it still went right across. I was going to check out what it was, but the weather wasn't great, so opening the skylight was not a good idea. I should have taken a photo, but my camera was still packed away from the Ligny trip, so I decided that I would open up the window in the morning and have a good look.
Came the morning, of course, and it had gone. Not a trace. I had a moment of doubt whether I'd seen it at all, but I am certain that it had been definite enough to give me something of a shock the previous night. I am half crazed, of course, but not normally given to imagining visitations.
So - no photo, no evidence, no clues really. I really wish I'd taken a picture. I can only guess that recent wet weather has resulted in a snail or a slug taking a couple of strolls across our roof window, and last night's rain subsequently washed it away. But it was very clear, and looked almost deliberate.
I'm not going to lose much sleep over this, but the nervously imaginative might react badly to a sign appearing on their window at night. If something grisly happens to me, I promise to let you know. If it's grisly enough, you might read about it elsewhere.
On a visit to Edinburgh this week, I noticed this. On the 200th anniversary of the publication of Sir Walter Scott's novel Waverley (which was a couple of years ago, I think), the management of Edinburgh main railway station put up a selection of quotes from Scott around the station concourse - the station, you understand, was (and maybe still is) known as Edinburgh Waverley.
I know a number of Old Wally's quotations, but hadn't come upon this one before. It got me thinking - you don't think it's a message of some sort to self-indulgent bloggists, do you? Apparently it is from The Pirate, of which I have no knowledge.
I confess I am not a big fan - when my grandmother died, I was given a stack of her old books, which included a lot of Scott. I was very pleased to receive these, but was very disappointed with the stories. I guess they have not dated well, and I am also aware that many of them were published in serialised form in periodicals, which
(a) does something odd to the flow of the story (a cliff-edge every 30 pages), and
(b) encouraged Sir Walter to keep the story going forever, to maximise his income.
This is going to be a sacriligious thing to admit, but I gave up very quickly. If ever a man had the gift of taking an exciting story outline and turning it into a lengthy grind, it was Scott. If you are passionately fond of his stuff then you have my respect and admiration. You must drink a lot of whisky.
General view at commencement, from behind the French right flank. Quatre Bras itself is represented by the building in the distance, just below the purple cushion(!). No idea who that bloke by the fireplace is - he was there quite a lot
Very enjoyable game at Goya's estates yesterday. As always, we were sumptuously entertained and looked after. Thanks very much for everything, gentlemen!
The game was the Commands & Colors scenario #014, which is a standard-sized 13x9 hex set up. We used my Ramekin adaptation of the C&CN master game, with a few (inevitable) beta-test tweaks, of which I shall say a little more later (assuming I remember). I was Marshal Ney, in command of the French forces (most of which I brought with me across the bridge from sunny East Lothian), while Stryker was Wellington, in charge of the Allied army. Goya chose to umpire, which was a most generous thing to do, in the interests of keeping the sides balanced. Apart from my own troops, there were lots of lovely soldiers on view - I must apologise that my photographs may not do this justice - Stryker will undoubtedly produce something more satisfactory, so I look forward to that.
If a little French bias creeps into what follows, I trust you will believe that it is unconscious, and merely a result of my having spent a day looking at the game from a French viewpoint.
The scenario allows the French an extra Victory Point (VP) if they hold the actual crossroads at Quatre Bras - 9 VPs for a win.
The game started with most activity around the Bossu Wood, on my left. My intention was to use my light infantry battalions (I only had two) to try to flush out the Dutch-Belgian (henceforth D-B) and Hanoverian troops before the British got their terrifying (and large) Foot Guard units in there. We started well enough, eliminated a D-B foot battery which was set up on the edge of the wood, but thereafter things got bogged down - my light infantry did not do well - one unit managed to stray too far from Command and thus were unable to move into a promising-looking attack, and that whole flank got bogged down very quickly, which meant I was pretty slow getting my infantry and heavy cavalry over the (fordable) river and a little ridge and setting about the Allied centre. When we did get that going it went fairly well for a while, but a pattern emerged which was recognisable from what we saw at our Albuera game some weeks ago - the French managed to wear themselves out fighting the relatively "softer" non-British troops (who actually fought very well) so that by the time we got to confront the British reserve we were already running out of steam. One big lesson of the day was a reminder that heavy cavalry are badly handicapped without horse artillery - we didn't have any. The chances of breaking an infantry square with cavalry are not good (especially if the damned squares are on a hill), but using the cavalry to force the infantry into square and then having something else to hit them with (such as horse artillery!) would have been a much more useful strategy. Oh well.
The game was close. At one point, quite early on, I was 6-3 down on VPs, then I got it back to 6-6, then my attack in the Centre got it up to 7-6 in my favour, then it came back to 7-7, and the end, when it finally came, was quite sudden. One of my battalions was eliminated in melee, and General Bachelu was killed along with them, at which point the Allies won 9-7. It is a bit of a constant theme of these games to say that it could have gone either way, but it really could. Anyway, history won out, I guess, which is something of a compliment to the scenario designers.
Stryker made a very good job of moving his forces nimbly and effectively in the space available - the Prince of Orange and The Duke of Brunswick were especially successful at rallying their troops when they had suffered under fire. This is really an encounter battle - neither side has the mix of troops nor the starting positions they would ideally choose. The Brunswick artillery were effective, and there was a particularly troublesome RA battery which I chased off the ridge a couple of times, but each time they brushed themselves down and climbed back up to resume fire. Stand-out performances? Hard to say, really - the D-B boys did pretty well, the Foot Guards are unstoppable if they get going, the French artillery was unusually effective. As French commander, it felt from fairly early on that I was going to run very short of fresh troops eventually (since, historically, D'Erlon's boys were not present, spending their day marching around somewhere between Quatre Bras and Ligny) and, though the day swung backwards and forwards for a while, that is eventually what happened.
Good game - a fairly stodgy start by the French, but exciting stuff later on. Quatre Bras on Waterloo Day - that's not bad, is it?
Opening situation, from behind French left. Bossu Wood is most of the foreground - Perponcher's D-B boys are well established in there. In the middle distance the French cavalry await instructions, while Foy's infantry confront the Dutch-Belgians in the centre. At the far end, Bachelu's division glare across the river at the Brunswickers
The river was not an obstacle, though anyone trying to fight their way out of it might have been a little incommoded. Prince William's chaps on the ridge to the right of the river reconsidered their position when the French Grand Battery opposite opened up. Note the proper, Old School Bellona bridges...
Ah yes - the Bois de Bossu. Didn't go well for us. You see the Legere boys going in there to dispose of the Dutch-Belgians. Ha! We eliminated the battery on the edge of the wood, but that was as good as it got in this part of the field
Slender Billy (seen waving his hat in the distance) sensibly shifted his men behind the high ground to get them away from the Grand Battery in the foreground (he may have been studying the ridge, to see if it would be possible to dig it up later to create a monumental mound)
Wider view of the same stage of the battle. That battery on the end of the ridge was a very persistent nuisance
Back to the Bossu - 2/25e Leger manage to get themselves stuck too far from commanders, and thus, without orders, do not have the wit to fire on the exposed enemy unit opposing them - they do take heavy losses, though. Oh well
Still struggling, 2/25e Leger fall back. Top left you can see Coldstream Guards approaching. Hmmm. This is not going to plan at all. The Guards were supposed to arrive to find the woods packed with crack French marksmen...
In some disbelief, General Kellerman came to help out, ensuring there at least was a General Officer near enough for the French left flank to be able to think straight, but things went from bad to worse. Those Guards are getting nearer, and - yes - that is a very large unit
Since the battle was obviously not going to be won over in the woods, Foy made a belated attack in the centre - that's him with the white border. The Grand Battery now being masked, Prince William, still waving his hat like the hero he is, got his boys to pop back up onto their ridge. The blue discs with "Tesco" embossed on them are, of course, order counters. Wellington and his staff are somewhere behind the building in the background
Foy's Division actually did pretty well here, and the French started to level up the VP score. The French cavalry started to come forward, too
Things suddenly look more promising for the French Centre, but those reserves on the right are a bit worrying
Since Foy doesn't have any reserves, so as you would notice, Bachelu makes a very late attack on the French right flank
Very welcome break for rations - grateful appreciation to our host. We decided against any selfies of the generals eating. We may not fight with skill, but we have elegance in abundance
Suitably refreshed, Ney sends forward his cuirassiers - no horse artillery, precious little support of any kind
Here he is - a little out of focus, but enthusiastic
All on their own-io, the cuirassiers get up onto the ridge - WHAT IS HE DOING?? WHAT IS NEY DOING??
Whatever he's doing, there's an awful lot of empty space on the French side of the river now
Inevitably, the battered cuirassiers are pulled back, while Bachelu (unseen by the camera) has just been eliminated at this end of the table - that's about game over...
On the Allied side of the field, it is evident that some of their units are just about hanging in there, but it doesn't matter now. You can see Wellington and his entourage just this side of Quatre Bras itself (complete with his trademark Travelling Tree), and you can also see the requisite nine Victory Banners. Job done
Game end, Allies on the left. It could, as I say, have gone either way, but a French win would have been a bit of a surprise - overall, I think we were beaten fairly thoroughly. Very enjoyable defeat, I have to say, and - as ever - educational!Sincere congratulations to that bloke by the fireplace
Rules? Not much to say - Ramekin system worked well enough - we had a rule tweak to allow units which had suffered loss to rally - this was a bit generous as drafted, but is worth refining - and we also re-introduced the Tactician Cards from C&CN Expansion #5, which put some surprises and a bit of welcome colour back into the game. We'll keep that as a useful option for the future. The revised balance between ranged combat and melee combat in Ramekin continues to work well - we did some tinkering with the abilities of various troop categories. All worked nicely enough.
Another Hooptedoodle - three on the bounce is normally a sign of something or other. On this occasion, it's because life is a little upside-down at the moment with my son's school exams - not a great deal of upheaval for me, since the Contesse is doing the organising and transport, but I have had a few days on my own at home. I've taken the opportunity to make decent progress with prepping more soldiers for the French Refurb, but I am reluctant to post yet more photos of bare-metal Les Higgins figures and the pervading mess. I could, of course, just keep quiet for a few days, but that could set a very dangerous precedent.
Yesterday I was reading about an incident I saw - or at which I was present, I suppose - when I was a small boy. On Whit Monday, May 21st 1956, I was taken by "Uncle" Duggie - a family friend - to the air show at Speke. Duggie was a Liverpool police officer, he was ex-RAF (he had been a middleweight boxing champion in the RAF) and he had more brass neck than you would believe, so he was an ideal man for taking you around - he seemed to know just about everybody, and he was quite happy to walk into areas which were supposed to be off-limits to the public.
Valentin demonstrating some of his later wings, suspended from a scaffold. If anyone thinks this looks like a bad idea, please put up your hand. [This set-up was a pose for photos, one of which subsequently appeared on the cover of his book]
It was a lovely, hot day. The place was packed. One big attraction was the scheduled appearance of the French Bird Man, Leo Valentin, who was to fly with strapped-on wings for our entertainment. Not much happened in those days - not like this. The events of that day, I learn, were also remembered by other, eventually more famous Liverpool kids than me - George Harrison and Paul McCartney were there (at that time they both lived in the new council housing estate at Speke, close to the airport), as was Clive Barker, the sci-fi writer and film-maker. Of course they were. There were 100,000 people there - anyone who could get there was bound to have been there - a big family holiday-out for the whole city. I was a very timid child, and was very worried about the Bird Man, and some of the planes were a tad noisy, and I didn't care for big crowds - so it wasn't such a perfect day for me, maybe!
Liverpool airport is at Speke, which then was outside the south end of the city. I remember being parched with thirst - no-one carried water in those days, for some reason, and queuing for a cup of industrial tea didn't seem such a great idea. I also remember that it was very hard to see much. If you were a small person, it wasn't a straightforward matter to see the sky between the adults. Valentin's flight was delayed - when he eventually made an attempt it was in a period when the crowd had started to wander around the airfield, and the events, which certainly did not last long, almost appeared incidental - many of those present must actually have been unaware of it. Valentin's approach run (with a new, larger style of wing, ferried up in a DC3) was pretty much unnoticeable (we couldn't hear the commentator anyway), his exit from the plane went wrong, he damaged one of his wings in the doorway, and I got a very brief glimpse (between adults) of Valentin, wrapped in his parachute, falling to the ground, maybe a mile away. There was a bit of a collective gasp, but a great many people around me never noticed.
A strange atmosphere fell over the place. It was one of those "nothing to see here, move along please" moments - the organisers obviously had to allow a slight gap for emergency reaction, but the show must go on. It was only when I got home (via the 82 bus) that I realised what had happened. I had simply assumed that Valentin wasn't flying today. In fact his emergency chute had failed, and he'd fallen 9000 feet into a cornfield, at Halewood. He was, of course, as dead as a door-nail. For some reason the local paper made a big fuss about the fact that his watch was still working. Someone missed an advertising opportunity there. Here's a nice little, rather homespun, video clip, to which I link with humble thanks and no permission.
Valentin had been a war hero, and was given a fancy military funeral in France - none of this reached the UK press. As far as I was concerned, he was really just another example of a common phenomenon of the times - you queued for hours to see something, and then nothing happened. Well, not for me - obviously things must have been a bit intense for him.
I believe this is the actual Beverley, at actual Speke, on the actual day [actually]. I am not on board - not bloody likely.
At some point in the afternoon Uncle Duggie got us past a rope barrier to look at a Blackburn Beverley and chat with its pilot - a friend of his from the RAF. Although the official record of the show says that the Beverley was a "no-show", I can confirm that it was very much there, and it did perform a fly-past later, with Duggie's pal at the controls. Duggie had managed to negotiate a look inside the thing, and asked me did I want to have a look around it - not flying in it, you understand, just having a peek, which wasn't allowed either. Since my timidity would not allow me to do anything which was not permitted, and since claustrophobia was another problem to add to my aforementioned list, I declined. I am ashamed to say that I turned down the opportunity to look around a newly-commissioned RAF Beverley, in 1956. Sorry, gentlemen. Sometimes I wonder how I ever survived this big, tough world. Sometimes I think that if I had a time machine I would go back and give myself a kick up the backside.
When there was no airshow, the spectator gallery on the roof at Speke was quite a popular attraction. I went a couple of times - it was very windy up there, and there weren't many planes to look at, I can tell you. What a miserable beggar I was!
Speke airport is now known as Liverpool John Lennon Airport. It always strikes me as ironic that Lennon himself only had a very brief involvement with the airport as a youth, when he was (I think) fired from temporary employment as a gopher in the cafe, for having a generally unhelpful attitude and making a deliberately unsavoury job of the sandwiches. That's how you go about getting an airport named after you. Charles de Gaulle had to work a bit harder for his airport, maybe.
Yesterday I made the trip up to the part of Scotland which is known as Perth & Kinross - a title which is not exactly concise, and which probably isn't very traditional either, but at least it's unambiguous. The occasion was a visit to Schloss Goya, the home of the famed Count. I had a splendid trip on the bus, and arrived in time for coffee and a quick viewing of the regiment of Bavarian Chevauxlegers which the Count is very kindly painting for me. Great stuff - I am confident these chaps will be ready to show here very soon. The advantages of getting Goya to help me with painting work are twofold: (1) I don't have to paint them myself, and (2) the quality of the painting is definitely superior!
German force advance out of the low sun of morning - my two Panthers are on the left flank, advancing as slow as necessary to allow the accompanying infantry company to keep up
He was kind enough to lay on a very fine lunch, and in the afternoon we had a bash at a WW2 game he had set up - a small encounter action between German and Russian forces, racing to seize a crossroads. It was the very first WW2 miniatures game I have ever taken part in, and the rules we used were Rapid Fire for Rookies, the two-page babies' version of RF, as befits my experience level. I was the German commander; I'll not attempt to give a coherent narrative, since I had very little idea what was going on most of the time, and I must apologise for the very poor photos, taken with my iPhone. I took a great many more pictures, but most were blurred and horrible. I must also emphasise that the game did look rather better than this sketchy post might suggest! I wasted a lot of time in admiring the 20mm figures - this is all new to me.
Overall view of my "left hook" with the Panthers - heavy weapons group heading into the woods in the middle
I regret to say that this is the only photo of the Russians which was clear enough to make out - this taken from a spotter plane early on. I suspect that it was fear which caused the camera-shake. As you see, the old Russkis are very keen on straight lines
I was pleased to get my tanks into this position so quickly...
...but instantly one of them was knocked out...
...and immediately afterwards my only gun was also kaput - my full repertoire of German swear words proved inadequate (obviously something I'll have to work on)
So my surviving Panther went off on a tour of the battlefield which eventually put paid to all the opposition's armour, and also eliminated a lot of his infantry
My infantry trying to keep up with the advance
Mostly because I wondered what would happen, I sent a single soldier with a Panzerfaust to take on a Russian self-propelled gun which was causing problems. He missed, and you only get one shot with a Panzerfaust. That's what happened...
The unstoppable Panther continued on its tour, mopping up resistance...
Though I suffered almost as many infantry casualties as the enemy, I won on points, as they say in boxing, and I was definitely in control of the crossroads. Very interesting little game - I enjoyed it, but I sincerely hope I don't get promoted on the strength of it
I had a lot to think about on the bus back to Edinburgh. Another grand day out!
Wargaming yesterday - early start to get to Schloss Goya for 10am kick-off. My idea that it would be amusing to arrive with fresh custard tarts was stillborn, since I couldn't obtain any. No matter, in fact, since our host laid on the customary excellent food and refreshments.
View over the battlefield, early on, from behind the Austrian left flank
Our game was the Commands & Colors: Napoleonics official scenario for Day 1 of the Battle of Aspern-Essling, which I guess is just the Battle of Aspern, when Massena attempted to hang on to the town, waiting for the bulk of Napoleon's army to hurry up and cross the Danube; thus the French have IV Corps plus some of the reserve cavalry. Lannes and all that stuff belongs to the second day. One big advantage of Day 1 is that it is small enough to make a good-sized game, though the number of built-up areas promised to give the beta-test Ramekin rules [I'm up to version 1.7] a decent workout and sanity-check.
I was Massena, while Goya and Stryker shared the Austrian forces, their overall commander being Archduke Charles. I took along my own French troops, and the Austrian forces were Goya's. We followed the published scenario very closely - the only (insignificant) amendment was that we replaced the mystery French "Guard Heavy Cavalry" unit with a third Cuirassier regiment - it has been suggested to me that whoever designed the scenario identified the Carabiniers as a guard unit - no matter.
Because we stuck to the published set-up, my artillery was mostly stuck in the wrong places. What I should have done was get busy right away with the double-moves which Ramekin allows, to get my artillery better placed. Didn't happen, of course, because I was immediately up to my neck in muck and bullets as the Kaiserliks set about the village.
The big Austrian line units have a scary amount of firepower, and they performed well - their only disadvantages are that they are slow, and are not allowed double moves, though they can certainly get a shift on when they are retiring, since they get double retreats for the C&CN flag symbol rolls. Their distinctive battaillon-masse tactic also proved to be a major discouragement to my late cavalry attack - without horse artillery (or aerial support) there was not much I could do against them.
The Austrians made excellent use, throughout, of the Combined Arms Attack rule, using artillery (including one particularly effective Grand Battery on the little hill north of the village) very effectively to support infantry attacks on the various bits of the town. I took heavy casualties very quickly, and was steadily pushed out of the town - I hung on to the extreme east end of the place, and I held the church for a while, until, again, the Austrians brought up a foot battery and blew me out of there.
So the French were very quickly well behind on Victory Points, including extra ones for possession of the majority of the town, and I only made the margin of defeat anything like respectable with a grand charge of cavalry (historically authentic, by the way) which took out the pesky Grand Battery and wrecked the Austrian cavalry. With everyone beginning to show signs of fatigue, Bellegarde's troops eventually claimed the necessary 12th VP, and the French were beaten [but only until the following day!].
Yes, it was pretty decisive. Once again, my sincere thanks to my colleagues/opponents for their company and good humour, and to Goya for all his hard work organising and setting up, and for slaving in the galley.
Austrian High Command caught in the act of setting up the Grand Battery on the ridge. On the left edge of the photo is visible Massena [that's me] in a rather snazzy little [S-Range] carriage - yes, that's only correct for Wagram, but the thing would never get a run out at all if it weren't for a little historical licence...
Already some casualties, but the Archduke isn't hanging about here
The French left was protected by the church and some woods, and some impassable marshes. I put some crack light infantry in there - the boys in the church seem to have lit enough candles to hold out for a while, but the fellows in the wood were shot to bits very quickly
Grenzer troops and Jaegers - good shooting...
Discouraged French troops falling back after being routed from the first bit of the town; the strange circular base is my version of one of C&CN's new-fangled "Garrison Counters" which we re-named "Detachments" since it seemed more appropriate. These are a useful little addition to the game, and I might say some more about these some time. Yesterday we used unpainted MDF, with the soldiers attached with BluTack, but they are to be smartened up a bit. They are a most excellent way of finding a job for some of your substandard figures - give me your battle-worn, your bayonetless, your OOP misfits, your oddments from the Spares Box, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free...
Austrians well-established in Aspern
French cavalry getting moving on the right flank
General Legrand brings up some fresh troops from his division (not easy to find) to try to take back part of the village; they failed, and he himself became a casualty in the attempt
Massena still hasn't moved, but he can see that the village is a lost cause - he gets the cavalry advancing on his right flank (far right of the table)
Looking from the Austrian right, round about the same stage of the battle
D'Espagne mops up the rest of the Grand Battery (half of it has already gone) with the 2nd Cuirassiers. Archduke Charles looks a bit close to the action in the background. Note the impressive row of white VP counters...
But the heavy cavalry had no answer to the battaillon-masse tactics of the Austrian line infantry, so concentrated their attention on the cavalry - this went far better...
As D'Espagne's French cuirassiers attack the mounted Austrians, Marulaz brings up the French light cavalry to attack the uhlans on the hill
Some things can just be relied on - like death and taxes, the 15eme Chasseurs are always around somewhere
The battle is more or less lost, but Molitor attempts to take back part of the village - borrowing the successful Austrian tactic of supporting the infantry with artillery in a Combined Arms attack
Situation at the end - the French cavalry have pulled back to avoid the fire of the Austrian infantry. Massena is running out of friends, but he knows Lannes is coming to sort things out tomorrow!
Special mention - Goya's new Landwehr unit are plastic (gasp) - very nice too - they did well. Goya is reluctant to spend too much on figures for the Landwehr or militia, since he is uneasy about making much of an effort to arm the masses.
***** Late Edit *****
Since the only reaction to this
post thus far today has been a couple of emails which indicated that at
least two of my readers are confused, I must offer my apologies for a
very poor bit of editorial work here. Having thought further about the
matter, I confess that I am now a bit confused myself.
To
clarify: this is not a description of the first day of a 2-day wargame
(I wish it was!), it is a description of a wargame based on the first
day of Aspern-Essling, which was a real battle which lasted two days,
and my suggestion here that the French might go on to win after two days
is not based on history, it merely expresses the French commander's
expectation after wargaming the first day's action. After all, the
French would probably not have chosen to fight on if they had expected
to lose, I guess.
Which brings me to the second point. Was
Essling actually a French defeat? I have always believed it to be so -
famously so, in fact. Yet Prof De Vries points out (correctly) that
Essling was a battle-honour on French Napoleonic battle flags - the 1812
issue of flags showed this honour for a great many regiments. The
Professor reckons that the French (like everyone else, he says) only
awarded battle honours for victories - the later example of La Moskowa
(Borodino) being explained since the French regard it as a victory.
Thus, says he, Essling must be another disputed result.
I
confess I have always been sort of aware of this apparent paradox, but
had managed to avoid thinking it through. I did a quick bit of reading today,
and it seems that battle honours were awarded to regiments which
performed well at battles commanded by Napoleon himself (which is why
you will not find Tarragona, for example). The small matter of whether
or not he won was not normally an issue, as we know. All
fine - looks like I learned something I should already have known, and
if it turns out that the Professor is mistaken (an event rarer than a
Napoleonic defeat) then that is indeed icing on the cake. *******************
