ECW Campaign – Erm…? – a quick time-out

A detached look at running a solo campaign

This follows from an email that Martin S sent me - he is one of a few regular correspondents I have who comment by email since they refuse on principle to have Google accounts in any shape or form – I respect this, but choose not to have a view on it (of course). His email was, as always, friendly and amusing, but his main message was a large question mark in response to my ECW campaign – what the hell is this?

I do the blog and the campaign for my own amusement, of course, but it has been fairly apparent that reaction to the campaign thus far has been less than rapturous, shall we say, and I wondered if there were others who felt, like Martin, that it seems to be, in his words, “a vague sort of fairy tale with toy soldiers”.

This is not intended as a justificatory piece, but it might at least help me to get my own head straight about what I’m doing – and if no-one reads it, it doesn’t matter anyway!

I very much enjoyed the Peninsular War-type solo campaign I did a year or two ago (or whenever it was), but a few things cropped up which could have been better (as in “easier”, or “more fun”). First, the scale of the campaign was very ambitious for a solo effort – the book-keeping and the application of the very detailed intelligence and supply rules drove it, pretty much, and that took a lot of hard work. The bits I enjoyed most were when I was getting stuck, or bogged down, and I took some kind of sideways political swipe to change the game and keep it moving – thus the occasional sacking of generals, and having Napoleon overturn the French strategy from his armchair in Paris, produced some of the best moments. This is, after all, the greatest single advantage of a solo game. In essence, my Peninsular narrative was driven by the rules, but the most enjoyable bits were when the narrative took over for a while. Also, my attempts to isolate a bit of Spain so that I could ignore the off-map goings-on (to keep the scope finite) did not work too well. At best, some distortions arose; at worst, the game became a little silly at times – some of the events just would not have happened in the real history.

OK – that was Lesson One – let’s spend less time on the hospital returns, reduce the scale, put more emphasis on the narrative as the driver and – for the context of the ECW campaign – try to get away from the constraints imposed by real places and real people – they always push you towards real events. [I remember reading some of the paperwork that some friends were producing for yet another postal Peninsular campaign years ago, and I was struck by the fact that they used an overall map which (I think) came from one of Michael Glover’s books – which showed the principal towns that featured in the real war, the roads which featured in the real campaign, and even the battlefields. I made a jocular suggestion that one of the generals was going to have to get a move on, because otherwise he would be late for the Battle of Albuera (which was, of course, marked on their map), and the total humour failure which greeted this comment revealed that I might have hit a nerve. These chaps had not intended to do a botched-up re-enactment campaign, but they had accidentally forced themselves into something very similar.]

So my ECW campaign is narrative driven. The fake geography is the easy bit. It is also peopled by fake individuals – this is my first ever look at an imagi-nation style storyline, and I spent some time reading Tony Bath and others on how you define (and use) the personalities of made-up people. I also had a look at a booklet which I downloaded from the world of fantasy gaming – a field I thought might lend itself ideally to what I had in mind – but I confess that I got scared very quickly, so abandoned it, for fear that I might end up living in some kind of parallel universe, with people I had invented (and didn’t like).

I also backed off quite a way from the thorough treatment Tony Bath describes; thus I have stuffed my OOB lists with individuals whose rough, high level character is known to me, and the decision points in the narrative (the theory goes) are to be driven as required by roughly assessing some probabilities, and rolling the odd die. As an example, given Lord Porteous’ lack of confidence, the most likely scenario in Week 4 was that his army would sit tight until the reinforcement from Northumberland arrived to hold his hand – in the event, the dice threw up a bit of a shock, in that his self-obsession and his taste for intrigue (let us say) produced an unlikely decision to take the offensive, without waiting for them. The surprise adds to the fun, I find.

Porteous’ performance at Midlawton was also something of a long-shot. Having found himself on the battlefield, the most likely strategy was that he would dither around until he was forced to react to the enemy’s taking the initiative. In fact the dice said otherwise – improbable though it seemed, he would attack immediately. Since I felt that such an attack would ruin his army, and thus possibly wreck the campaign at an early stage, I considered giving the dice another chance(!), but decided to stick with the surprise strategy to see what happened.

Which brings us up to date. The Sir Henry Figge-Newton character (Parliamentarian C-in-C) is a political appointment, and my reading of the machinations of the Parliament leadership suggested it might be fun to make him a mystery figure – we don’t really know why he is there, we don’t really know what he is like. I thought it was amusing that he appeared on the battlefield at Midlawton in his carriage – where he stayed throughout. It is said that he was there with his military secretary, but we don’t really know if he was there at all. He appears happy to let Aspinall do all the work, and – potentially – take any blame that is going. He also seems content to live as well as possible, Puritan values or not, so he maybe feels he has a lot to lose – these appointments do not come along very often…

That’s really more than I wanted to say about this (but you would expect that). I might add that, from a wargame point of view, my return to the C&C-based tabletop rules for the big battle was a joy and a delight – like getting back into a warm bed on a cold morning. I was particularly pleased with the variants to cope with using the 10-foot table, and the “brigade move” tweak – the brigade structure of each army is denoted by attaching coloured counters; the units in a brigade, and their brigade commander, each have a distinctive colour attached. On “section” type Command Cards (those which refer to a flank, or the centre), this tweak allows an order to be given to a Leader who is attached to a unit in his own brigade, and he may issue additional orders to a concatenated group of units from the same brigade – no gaps – a daisy-chain system. It worked really well – for a big battle on a big table, it does away with the need to have bonus moves or double card-plays to keep things moving. Very pleased with that. The brigades stayed together, the brigadiers were proactive – and, as a result, they took a few wounds.

I’m also very pleased with a comment received from Michael, who has entered into the spirit of the thing sufficiently to suggest that Lord Sefton, the excitable cavalry commander on the Royalist side, could be played by Trevor Howard. Excellent – apart from the fact that this is great casting, I am heartened to consider that I might not be the only bloke around who is daft enough to think of this stuff. As a background project, I am now taking suggestions for who should play the various characters in the eventual movie of this campaign. Let us not worry that the movie might turn out to be very short – nor that such an idea is even more far-fetched than my fairy story. Let us not concern ourselves, either, with taking all our players from the same time – thus far I have Stephen Fry pencilled in as Lord Porteous, and I have Russell Crowe and Michael Redgrave on my short list for other roles.

It might be a weird way to run a campaign, but I’m really enjoying myself!

Once upon a time, long, long ago, there lived a king...

ECW Campaign – Battle of Midlawton – 28th March 1644

This battle took place, primarily, because Lord Porteous, the commander of the Royalist “Army of North Lonsdale”, overruled the objections and counsel of his senior officers, and precipitated an attack on the Parliamentarian force which opposed him. This attack is universally criticised by military historians, and the background to the action is of some interest (we hope…).

Both armies were expecting reinforcements at this time – a sizeable force sent to Porteous by the Marquis of Newcastle had arrived at Woodhouses, some 40 miles distant from Midlawton, but was resting – in accordance with agreed orders – following a remarkably rapid march from Northumberland. The intention was that these troops would be present with Porteous’s army and ready for action from around 5^th April.

Meanwhile, the Parliamentarian army was about to be strengthened by the addition of a contingent of the Scottish Covenanter army, which had, also, had a long and trying march to reach the area.

Porteous, not normally noted as a decisive general, surprised his subordinates by insisting on an early march from Lowther (his chief administrative centre and garrison town) to Midlawton, some 15 miles to the south-west – his stated plan being to put that town into a decent state of defensive order before the Roundheads arrived, and place a strong garrison there.

His officers urged that such a move should be delayed until the Newcastle troops joined the army – at which point they could expect to be strong enough to defeat the Parliamentarians in open battle, which would give far better options than holding Midlawton, which was a market town, without military walls and not easily defended. Porteous had an alternative agenda here – he was concerned that the commander of the Newcastle force, Sir John Darracott, was regarded as a more able general (especially by Prince Rupert, it was said), and that a joining of the forces might result in his being demoted. His information indicated that the Scots were not yet with Aspinall’s army, and he believed that the (fairly minor) action at Hobden’s Mill the week before had caused a great deal of upset and demoralisation among the commanders of the Roundhead horse. He saw a chance to strike a decisive blow quickly (before Darracott was present to take any credit for the success…). He stuck to his argument with such vigour that his officers backed down and agreed to his plan, though Lord Sefton was said to be furious about the whole matter, and had to be persuaded by his friends not to resign his position as General of Horse.

The Parliament army reached Furnace Hill, some 20 miles from Midlawton, on 26^th March, and a column brought from the south east by General Sir Henry Figge-Newton was added to the main force, under Sir Nathaniel Aspinall. Figge-Newton was the overall commander, but he placed Aspinall in command of the foot, and Lord Alwyn (discomfited by his experience at Hobden’s Mill) in command of the horse.

Figge-Newton’s sources of information in this area were not of the highest quality – the local population were traditionally loyal to the King – and his best guess was that there were Royalist troops at Midlawton, but that the main force was still at Lowther – further north.

Porteous arrived at Midlawton, also on 26^th, at the head of the largest army he had yet commanded in the field, but his entry into the town was greeted with open hostility, and he and Lord Sefton were required to attend a meeting with the mayor and the Town Committee, at which Porteous was very firmly told what he could do with his army. The mayor made it very clear that a five-fold increase in the size of the town garrison, which was already causing great hardship to the citizens, was not welcome. Further, if he thought that they could fortify the place and hold out under any kind of formal siege then he could think again. Apart from the violence and suffering inflicted on the gentle townspeople by bombardment and starvation, it was general knowledge that Aspinall had a large force of savage Scottish highlanders with him, and what would happen if the place was taken by storm did not bear thinking about.

To Sefton’s horror, Porteous was obliged to sign a document agreeing that the works and walls of the town would be left alone, that it would remain an open town, and that his army would camp – and, if necessary, engage the enemy – in open country, outside the town. Sefton could not believe that a military governor could be treated like this.

Horror or not, poor Porteous did as he was told, and on the morning of the 28^th he duly lined his army up to the south of Midlawton, facing west, to oppose the Army of Parliament. The old Roman road from Pacefield to Midlawton bisected the field, parallel to the lines of battle. The shallow Manning Water, which runs into the Arith near Lowther, passes by the western edge of the town, where it is crossed by an ancient stone bridge. Manning Water, however, was easily fordable at that time, and offered the Parliamentary troops little difficulty, though it did mean that the foot regiments of Lord Lambton’s brigade were a little damp and chilly as they arrived on the field.

Porteous placed some dragoons and some medium guns on the edge of the town, facing the river, and the Town Guard (the “Untrained Band”, who had received no firearms) were stationed at the bridge to help protect their nearest and dearest from the enemy. The Firelock unit of Captain Groves was placed in the gardens of a house a short distance outside the town’s Stockgate, beside the road. The rest of the army were deployed conventionally, horse on the flanks, foot in the middle, with guns between the foot brigades.

The action began with a determined artillery barrage from both sides. Concerned that his horse were outnumbered, and by the losses his foot were suffering to cannon fire, Porteous appears to have acted in something close to panic. He sent his two leading brigades of foot in to attack, across the road, completely in the open and with no support – the only cover they gained was from the powder smoke, which lay thick in the calm morning.

Predictably, this assault was driven back with very heavy loss, and the attack was badly compromised by the loss of all the infantry brigade commanders within the first 30 minutes of the action. Porteous himself took command of Col Rice’s brigade after Rice had been carried, wounded, from the field, but they took little further part in the combat. On the Royalist left, Col Broadhurst (the hero of Hobden’s Mill) led a brave attack by his brigade of horse, but found to his cost that the hills to his front concealed a greatly superior force of enemy cavalry – his brigade fought gallantly, but were routed and pursued from the field.

Around this time [as the result of a “Chaunce” card] the contractor who had supplied the draught horses for the Royalist artillery decided that it would be safest to take his animals home, thus leaving the artillery train with no means of  recovering their guns. Visibly shaking with fury, Lord Sefton performed one last, wild charge with his cavalry on the Royalist right flank, and succeeded in fighting his way through to a battery of sakers, which were captured, but there was no way of moving them, so they had to be abandoned again. This was the end of the Royalist effort – Porteous’ army was streaming back up the road to Lowther, leaving all their artillery behind, and dragging their wounded as best they could.

The final indignity to the King’s cause was inflicted by the Midlawton Town Guard. Seeing that the best interests of the town might best be served by co-operating with the victors, these fine fellows seized part of Porteous’ baggage train, including a weighty treasury chest and most of the correspondence of the army, and presented the lot to General Aspinall as he entered the town, along with their request to swear loyalty to the Parliament and change sides to serve with his army. [The campaign rules include a commitment check for all militia-class troops in times of stress.]

Orders of Battle

Royalist “Army of North Lonsdale” – Lord Porteous

Horse – Lord Sefton – (Lord Sefton commanded the horse on the right flank):

Right flank (Sefton): Regts of Jenkinson, Sefton & Cressington

Left flank – Bde of Col Broadhurst: Regts of Clevedon & Broadhurst

Foot:

Bde of Col Rice: Regts of Monkton, Galliard & Rice

Bde of Sir Jas Parkfield: Regts of Ullet, Maxwell & Parkfield

Bde of Col Fulwood: Regts of Davies & Fulwood

Unattached: Dingle’s Dragoons, Groves’ Firelocks & Midlawton TB  

Artillery: 6 pieces

Parliament – Sir Henry Figge-Newton

Horse – Lord Alwyn:

Bde of Sir Beardsley Heron: Regts of Heron, Winstanley & Chetwynd

Bde of Sir Rowland Barkhill: Regts of Dundonald, South & Barkhill

Bde of Col Allington: Regts of Sudley & Eastham

Foot – Sir Nathaniel Aspinall:

Bde of Col Buckland: Regts of Buckland, Mossley & Grafton

Bde of Col Bryanston: Regts of Bryanston & Hawkstone

Bde of Lord Lambton: Regts of Burdett, Lambton & Nielson

Unattached: Ancaster’s Dragoons

Artillery: 6 field pieces + 1 heavy mortar

Porteous had about 6400 foot, 2400 horse and 6 guns – his loss in killed, wounded and missing appears to have been about 3300, and he was forced to abandon his entire artillery train. Of his senior officers, Sir James Parkfield and Col Fulwood both received mortal wounds and Col Rice was struck in the arm by a musket ball, from which he is expected to recover.

Figge-Newton had about 5400 foot, 3500 horse and 7 guns – his total loss was officially recorded as 1400. Casualties among the brigade commanders were light - Col Buckland had his ear removed by a sword cut, but is expected to recover.

The action took place toward the end of Week 4 of the campaign. Reports and returns for the end of that week will appear in due course.

[Some further details of the combat can be seen in the photographs – I am delighted to welcome Nick back to the camera role for this episode!]

General view, looking south - Royalists on the left

Lord Alwyn, keen to make amends, with the Parliament horse on the right flank

View along the Roman road - not much traffic today...

Troops placed on the edge of the town, despite the Mayor's instruction 

Tourist shots of Midlawton

The cottage with Firelocks in the garden...

 

The Town Guard all ready to deal with invaders, or clean up the flower beds 

Sir Julius Mossley's RoF [P]

The coloured counters indicate the brigade structure - they may look a bit cheesey,
but they were far easier to see (and handle) than the dumb little beads I used previously

Lord Lambton's brigade chase the Firelocks out of the garden

Suddenly, the Parliament right flank found they had no-one facing them
- note the gallant Col Broadhurst waving his sword in solitary defiance...

Another Chaunce card - believe it or not, one of the Puritan units of
horse were hung-over!

Brave, but too late - Sefton tries to save a little face

This is how confusing it looks to the poor guys in the ranks

ECW Campaign - Week 3

The Lowther Town Guard practising the Stand of Pikes manoeuvre - needs work

Royalist

Having received word of the Parliamentarian troops at Ringrose, heading north, Lord Porteous sent word to Col Broadhurst, at Dransfield House, to bring his cavalry garrison back to Midlawton. This force had a brief skirmish with some Parliamentary horse at Hobden’s Mill [Boot Mills on the map] on 19^th March, in which Broadhurst’s troops (first time in the field against organised troops) performed tolerably well, and got the better of the clash, continuing their march towards Midlawton via the old drover road over Penitent Way and thence Erneford.

The reinforcement from Northumberland, commanded by Sir John Darracott, has now reached Woodhouses, on the northern edge of the area map. Porteous is still very fearful that Darracott will replace him as overall commander of the (newly named) Royalist Army of North Lonsdale, and has stated his intention of keeping their two forces separate, which has produced a violent disagreement among the Royalist command. Lord Sefton is said to have stormed out of a meeting at Lowther, which did, at least, produce sufficiently complete orders to result in a general advance to Midlawton.

Force A (Lord Porteous with the brigades of Fulwood & Parkfield) march from Lowther to Midlawton, leaving the Lowther Town Guard behind – the Town Guard become new Force G at Lowther

Force B (Lord Sefton with a brigade of horse and the Midlawton Town Guard) to hold position at Midlawton, doing what is possible to place defensive obstructions at street ends in the town.

Force C (Capt Grove’s Firelocks) to march from Cark Ferry to Midlawton.

Force D (Col Broadhurst, with a brigade of horse and dragoons, the former garrison at Dransfield House) to march to Midlawton without delay. On the way, this force was involved in a skirmish with Parliamentarian horse at Boot Mills, and have resumed their line of march along the more northerly route – the so-called Penitent’s Way.

Force E (Col Rice’s brigade of foot) to march from Erneford to Midlawton.

Force’s A, B, C and E to re-organise as revised Force A.

Lord Porteous has had some rough sketches produced for a portrait of him in his new blue suit.

Parliament

The Scots have arrived – General Geddes’ Covenanters are now at Briskhill, recovering from their lengthy march. They should be ready to join the main field army in a week or so.

Following the disappointing performance of Lord Alwyn’s brigade of horse at Hobden’s Mill, Alwyn has had the acting commander of Chetwynd’s Horse, Major Trimbell Chetwynd (son of the colonel, Thomas Chetwynd) arrested on charges of treason. This is a result of the failure of that regiment to advance against the Royalist horse, and is seen as a blame-shifting manoeuvre on the part of Alwyn. Since the inaction of Chetwynd’s Horse had little bearing on the outcome of the skirmish, it is generally felt that the arrest is inappropriate, and the morale of Alwyn’s brigade has suffered as a result. They have marched back to Old Claiffe. There are rumours of a threatened duel between Lord Alwyn and Col Thomas Chetwynd, but since Chetwynd is currently sick, at home in Fylde, it is hoped that nothing will come of it.

Force A (Genl Figge-Newton, at Fernbeck House with a regiment of foot and the siege train), Force B (a regt of horse, at Bradshaigh) and Force C (another regt of horse, at High Haddon)to march to Hatrigg, on the Pacefield road. The intention was to meet up with Geddes’ Scots, but Geddes has arrived further south than expected. Forces A, B and C will merge to form a new force A, which is intended to join with Geddes at Hatrigg as soon as the Scots are able to reach that place.

Force D (Alwyn’s force, as described above) were ordered to advance to Patondale, but after their skirmish of the 19^th they have retreated to Old Claiffe to recover.

Force E (Col Allington’s brigade of horse, at Frinckus Abbey) are ordered north to Patonfield, to hold the vital river crossing at the fords there.

Force F (Col Bryanston’s brigade of foot, at Hoskett Castle) and Force G (Genl Aspinall, with two brigades of foot at Thorkeld) to march to Duke’s View Hill, south-west of Pacefield, and form new Force F.

Force I (Geddes, with the Covenanter force, to rest one week at Briskhill.

Morale – Now I Remember

I thought I should write this while I still feel the need to do so. It’s amazing how you forget. Yesterday, I blithely set about playing out a small cavalry skirmish for the ECW campaign (previous post, if you can be bothered), and felt that, since the game was too small and fiddly for my usual Commands & Colors style rules, I should get back to some proper, old-fashioned wargaming, and use more traditional rules, such as I knew and loved when I was young and enthusiastic. I was rather looking forward to it.

I didn’t go into this completely blind – I decided to use a derivative of Victory without Quarter, which I have used before for larger ECW actions – including a very large one at Old John’s HQ two years ago. Fine. As I recall, apart from a couple of gaps in the rules (which the derivative is intended to fix), the games went OK.

Well…

I got a bit of a shock yesterday – I mean, the game was OK, but the very small scale of the action threw up an effect which I didn’t expect – or, at least, if I should have expected it then I’d forgotten what wargames used to be like.

The rules I used were a wholehearted effort to do things the old way – put the boards with the non-hex side up, dig out the measuring tape, have the QRS tables taped up on the dresser to keep things grooving along. I didn’t have a bounce stick for roundshot, but it would have felt even better if I had. The action involved a grand total of seven units, with two generals, and I was very happy to measure out march distances, divide the last three inches by two because that was a rough patch of ground, take a full move to deploy from march column into line, measure the outer-edge travel of a line wheeling, all that good stuff. There was a lot of manoeuvring and measuring and moving about, which was fun, and there were two cavalry melees, in quick succession. Then, it seemed, there were about thirty morale tests, which must have taken 80% of the total brain effort and about half the elapsed time.

Holy smoke. The tests in this game require 2D6 to be supplemented by various plus and minus factors, and you pass by totalling 7 or more. You fail by getting 4 to 6. You fail disastrously (and have to go away, quickly) if you get less than 4. Some of the plus/minus factors are constant givens for a unit (level of training, quality etc) some change slowly as the action progresses (increasing losses, past upsets) and some are transients based on current situation (proximity of friends, command, cover, enemy etc). It is a pretty standard, traditional approach to morale. Though it is not complicated, and you can remember a lot of it without reference to the sheet, there is a fair sized list to check against. Every time.

EVERY TIME.

No real surprises here – those of us who learned our wargaming from Messrs Featherstone, Wesencraft, Tunstill and Co would expect a wargame to be like this. It was, if I remember correctly, a point of pride amongst us that this particular clever bit of the game made it more scientific than (for example) Snakes & Ladders. I can remember explaining to my mother that the game wasn’t just bang-bang (such a game would be childish, of course), but the morale mechanisms actually gave the little men a say in what happened, and the challenge for the general was coping with the frustrations which the rules and the dice (and therefore Fate, of course – we were in distinguished company here) handed out. Well, I’m sorry, Mum, but I’m not so enthusiastic now – perhaps I should have cut my teeth on Young and Lawford instead – it might well have given me a more pragmatic education in these matters.

Here’s an example from yesterday. Two cavalry units – both rather shaky – face up to each other on a hillside in Northern England in 1644. Let us call them A and B.

A get within charge range of B, and declare a charge – good for them.

First have to check their morale, to see if they are up for it. Yes, they pass. Charge.

Unit B wish to countercharge – have to check morale. They pass, but in the event the chargers are too close, so B receive the charge at the halt.

The first round of melee takes place, in addition to everything else, A are uphill of B, so the melee is a bit one-sided. B take heavier loss, are shaken and pushed two inches down the slope. They have to have their morale tested  to see if they rout – no, they hold their ground, albeit shaken.

In the next turn, the general in charge of B is lucky enough to get the initiative, so his first order is to rally the shaken unit B. This obviously requires a morale test. They pass, rather surprisingly, so they straighten out their line and wait to be charged again.

A’s turn. A are ordered to charge again – since unit B are now rallied and steady again, A need a morale test – they pass, and charge.

There is no question of a countercharge, the newly-rallied B receive the charge at the halt, and take many casualties – they lose the melee, so – that’s right – they must test morale. They fail – they collapse, and rout 3D6 inches immediately.

Right. A’s commander does not wish them to pursue, so he attempts to hold them by means of – you guessed it – a morale test. They fail, so they pursue, out of control, a distance of 3D6 (which, as it happens, is less than the other lot’s 3D6, so they do not catch them).

From this point, the respective commanders can each look forward to a morale test for A and B every turn until they rally. In yesterday’s action, the routers (B) passed very close to a friendly unit (C), who thus required a morale test to see how they reacted to this. They failed – they were shaken, and thus not able to take orders from the commander.

Round about the same moment, the uncontrolled pursuit brought A face to face with C (who couldn’t have attacked them anyway, but A did not know this), and A had to take a morale test to see how they reacted. They got double 1, which is a bit extreme, and thus they not only stopped their wild pursuit but did an about-face and routed back the way they had come. There were now 3 units who would require a morale test each turn to try to rally them.

Enough of this – you get the idea. Whatever else happened was almost incidental compared with this relentless industry of morale. Obviously I survived the experience, but the tiny action had served to highlight the disproportionate effort which goes into these tests in this style of game.

I had forgotten. I remember now. I don’t really want to do this again – not like this. Commands and Colors just hands out retreats as part of the loose change on the Battle Dice – easy peasy. It’s surprising how quickly you get used to that, though it might not suit everyone. I had a think about what else I used to do – there was life before C&C, and it wasn’t all as wretched as yesterday, so what else was there?

Well, 4 years ago I was using in-house Napoleonic rules which owed a lot to many sources, but particularly to Doc Monaghan’s The Big Battalions – I especially liked his inclusion of musketry volley fire into melees, which made a lot of sense and simplified a lot of things, and I liked the approach to melees themselves, which virtually eliminated all the morale testing around that area.

In TBB, each side has an effectiveness score based on type, nationality and formation, with additions/subtractions for context; add 1D6 for each side, and subtract the defender’s total from the attacker’s. The table of results takes care of all the morale testing at a stroke. You can just get on with your charge…

I quote from TBB – this table gives net results and what they mean:

+5        Defender routed before contact

+3,+4  Defender routed

+1,+2  Defender retreats

0          Violent Struggle takes place

-1,-2    Attacker retreats

-3,-4    Attacker routed

-5         Attacker routed before contact

-6         Attacker refused to advance

Then there are instructions for how many casualties apply to victorious, defeated and routing units, and how to conduct the retreats. Oh yes, a Violent Struggle means that both sides suffer heavy casualties, as though they had been defeated.

So?

Well, the game still contains a lot of detailed rules, but – to me – that seems a more sensible – not to say humane – way to cope with the morale implications of a melee. For future detailed, tactical games, I shall try to find rules which are more like The Big Battalions.

That is, of course, provided I have not forgotten again.