Bronze Age Alashiya, Campaign Summer 2019

Since I am off to be an exile in Cyprus (Alashiya) over the Autumn and am only back for five weeks in December I have floated the proposal for a Bronze Age Campaign using the Dux Bellorum rules next Summer.  4 players who each take a Sea Peoples army/tribe and a Cypriot city state.  We will use Trojan war figures as our Sea raiders.  (although if I may assume an air of superiority please note that my own figures are the real deal, however shockingly painted they are!)  

I will do a lot more reading into the known history behind this project, as well as visiting some of the archaeological sites, especially Kiteon, although the citadel of Paleopaphos and the Tombs of the Kings are almost literally on my doorstep at home.

Also important will be the rules, and I will create some amendments as well as playtest them before we start.  The first game will be an introductory for the players to revisit the rules.  

As in the Dark Ages Dux Bellorum the Campaign will be simple enough that there is no need for an umpire, and as the Great and Overweight Pharaoh I intend to play.  I`m sourcing a Crown of the Two Lands to wear during games...

https://www.dropbox.com/s/sp4dtv1s37fzofg/Bronze%20Age%20Anax%20Draft.docx?dl=0

Burning down the Signal Station: Invasion 1805

For the third game in our invasion of Sussex, 1805, the French had now regrouped at the Signal Station.  "Burn it down Tout Suite" we ordered... "No, no it will take a day," we are told.  Before long then the British were upon us... again...

We suspected that this might be the Force that had driven Pommesfrittes out of the village yesterday, following him up, and so it proved to be.  This time however they faced the whole of the French Expeditionary Force under the command of Major Finguin, a portly and devious cheese eating Frenchman.

The French deploy their main body from a forward secondary deployment point.  It is risky and aggressive as a strategy, but if it had worked it would have given us enough time to torch the Signal Station. 

The British deploy, and volley.  Controlled British fire was almost to be our undoing. 

The French column tries to close.  It's still aggressive,  but at this sort of range very risky.  What could go wrong...?

Lt. Pommesfrittes deploys in a mistaken attempt to burn the station during the game itself.  "What do you mean we can't do that?"  Ah well, devious these Frenchmen. 

Les Picnics... Cidre brut du Normandie and pain du raisin.  Turns out that the Cidre was a real brut... 

But what is this?   Cavalry, on my flank no less.  A brown trouser moment for a man who has just had a glass of the Cidre brut du Normandie.  Our Voltiguers suffer as they screen the square from the British line.

But the British cavalry don't like the look of those grognards in square.  They file past and seem to want to charge Pommesfrittes.  

The Voltiguers screen breaks.  

But I leave square and reform the line.  Even so I stagger back under the fire of those British.  Pommesfrittes meanwhile volleys the cavalry until they retreat. Things look tense, and this could very well go either way.  Our aggression may have cost us the campaign in an afternoon here.  Still it was pub o'clock and time to pause...

Finguin puts his whole focus, and repeated flags into reducing shock.  The Formation is still a mess but the British are mercifully inactive and he succeeds.

The British cavalry vanish over the hill, loaded down with shock from the fire of Pommesfrittes Ligne troops.  Once again "Bananas" Farthingdale let those Infantry down.

Pommesfrittes comes into line beside the now ragged French main body.  The jig is very much up for the British, but this was a phyrric victory.  As the redcoats left the table we were left with the casualty rolls, and they were grim.  Still Pommesfrittes found the matches and burned down the damned signal station.

Gallant sportsman that he is, the British Captain treats us to port and cheese.  I do have to report a certain fractious denouement as an over merry Major Finguin "took the nose of the cheese!"  Damned fellow, but what can you expect from a man who served up that Cidre!  A great game!

Pommesfritte cashes in his chips. 1805 Game 2

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             
Bonjour mes amis, it is I, Sergeante Baguette of the 27th. Major Finguin, my Commander, had ordered me to stand by young Pommesfrite, in his first independent command.  We are the first ashore in an invasion of England, somewhere in Southsex.

First we had repelled the defender's of Newport, and then Pommesfrite took the road across country to another wet God forsaken English town.  The Major took the main force to Oakshampton,  or some such important Southsex place, whilst we were to burn down the rest of the county.

Pommesfritte quickly ran into trouble.  Approaching the town he sent me off to the right flank with my Voltiguers, to burn down a manor house, and abduct a milkmaid,  whilst he attempted to manoeuvre through the town backsides.

The British Deployment point

The French main body arrives whilst baguette and his men skulk towards the manor

Deep cover skulking!

The French reach the hedge and provoke a British reaction

Pommesfritte has brought along his great coat expecting rain

The British line appears to block our advance

Baguette and his 9 Voltiguers head for the manor

The British advance

Pommefrite sends Camenbert to outflank the British.

Camenbert's view up the lane.  Not liking this!

Half time.  The British treat both sides to beef and ham, mustard and beer.  Its a winning combination...

The light dragoons charge.  Bananas jumps his horse over the square.

The casualties are horrendous and Bananas rues the day as he bursts clear.

But Captain Dundarse plies the French with pale ale, and there is more than an air of squiffyness around Citizen Baguette! (and Citizen Quilp too!)

The British Sharpe Practice, and really damage the French groups.

The British cavalry swing away onto the road.  The French Sergeant splutters an apoplectic "Merde!"  Our Deployment point is threatened.

Camenbert aggressively targets the Cavalry, chasing them in a closed column.  When his blood is up our "cheese balls" will not let go.  See how he pursues that urchin child across the meadow...

Baguette meanwhile scarpers from the British Light Infantry who appear behind the manor.  he gets a single shot at the British cavalry, but fails to hit any of them. 

The British cavalry turns away and Baguette is once again put under the fire of the British skirmishers.  He withdraws and is last to leave the field

And with that mes amis, the Lieutenant Pomfrittes decides that he really needs to save a collapsing situation.  Our Infantry has come off poorly against the British Line, but we have the measure of those cavalry.  

We lost only one man, making this a skirmish of little regard.  The sour note was that Camenbert had captured boy in the village, and this urchin subsequently ran off with Pommefrite's orders which the Sergeant had "borrowed."  Figuin may yet courts martial our little cheese balls...

The Impetuous Hoplite: Sword and Spear

Ah Sword and Spear.  Last played by me using the Petain President`s 20mm Hundred Years War figures, and they were a glorious sight to behold!  I seem to remember a great French Victory over pernicious Albion and her longbowmen, but I could be mistaken.  

This time it was to be a grudge match with an overweight Gerard Butler the Hittite against the Persian Phil of Phils.

Peter Laing Hoplites circa 1979.  These little gits have steel pins as spears.  They stuck me at age 17, and stuck me again today, nearly 40 years later.  I have it on good authority they will be waiting for me in 40 years time when/if I`m in my nineties!

Not sure about this one, particularly since I didn`t see the end, but in  the interests of completeness, and the hope that the Gentlemen`s Club President will complete the post, I shall record it...

The deployment.  I tried to be clever with the angled line.  Nah!   A mistake.

Trundle trundle punch!  Not subtle these Spartans.

Did he just shoot at me?

My light skirmish dudes kill off his mighty Thracians in one shot.

 

And the punching goes on.  A real bloodfest this one.   And at that point I had to go!   Frustrating!

The Landing in Newport. Invasion 1805 Game 1

The Emperor, in his wisdom, has decided to send a full invasion Force to quell the English.  As a Chef du Battalion I, Major Finguin of the Gascon 27th Du Ligne, have been sent ahead to secure the landing place.  

With my ever optimistic sidekick Lt Pommefritte I lead our men ashore.   Actually Pommefritte lead our men ashore whilst I finished my repast aboad, a nice Brie de Meaux with a Boulogne Sur Mer baguette, and a cheeky Anjou rosé.

We landed at Newport, a wind swept sodden place, which resembled a St Etienne midden.  I say we, but I mean Pommefritte.  The naval forces which have been lent to me for the entire campaign included four groups of Elite Marines, who I landed with a gun on the south beach.  

Pommefritte took the remainder of our force to land on the North beach.  He was to secure the Church, whilst I was to drive off any troops in that area and secure a Mistress from the general populace.

The sleepy town of Newport, its gentle river flowing majestically into the bay, and smelling ever so slightly of ... dead fish...

Zut Alors, it is the Navy.  Let's be honest here, looking for an Inn rather than a fight.

Pommefritte Lands with the main body.  The rather snazzy looking boats are from the Waldridge shipyards, made by a certain Uriah the Hittite, model boat builder to the gentry.

The British respond with two groups.  The Sailors were patently outflanking them...

The Voltiguers' fire drives the British Skirmishers back towards the bridge...

But to secure the flank the French land two elite groups from their Marine force, with a gun.  The gun is unloaded since it landed from the boat.

The French halt for lunch.  A nice Boursin, a strong Camenbert and a fresh baguette from Les Morrison...

The British Skirmishers turn on the Marines, but these are elite Marines, supported by an Army Artillery piece, and there seems little chance of those skirmishers avoiding a dose of cannister.

The British Skirmishers run for it.  Their flanks are now exposed on both sides

The Marines and artillery advance
driving the British back

 

Pretty much end game for the British as they withdraw back for their deployment point.  The British had played a clever but limited defence, however the way to Oakhampton and inland was now clear.
Oakhampton?  Bighampton, Oldhapmton?  

These damn English maps...

 

Dick Wellard's day out in Balham

Today's game centred around the fighting for the British town of Balham.

Balham! Gateway to the South!

We enter Balham through the verdant grasslands of Battersea Park, and at once we are aware that here is a land of happy, contented people who go about their daily tasks in truly democratic spirit.

Unfortunately the French have come ashore to spoil the day...

Balham bridge and the British Deployment  point.  Pity nobody told the British where it was.

French sailors skip merrily over the bridge

The British freeze in place as the French trundle a huge column behind the sailors.

The British Light Dragoons arrive and also freeze in place.  We're the British counters even in that bag.  (The answer being no, at one point they weren't.)

As the British movement fails to happen the French saunter over the bridge and deploy.   The British units moved once.  The French seven times!

In extreme frustration the Light Dragoons charge but surprise!   They fail to reach their targets, and then get shot to pieces as the French fire not one, but two full volleys into them whilst the entire British force stands still.  At this point Lt. Dick Wellard took a ball to the chest and mercifully fell to escape the battle for the safety of Dr Hook's Sanatorium
The British moved twice in the whole game and as a result got a mullering.  Enough said really,  

And so the long night draws on. The last stragglers make their way home and the lights go out one by one as dawn approaches and the bell of Saint Quilp's' Parish Church tolls ten o'clock. Balham sleeps. And so we say farewell to this historic borough, with many pleasant memories – and the words of  Jeramiah Quillp, Balham's own bard, burning in our ears...


"And from the bag he drew forth blue, 
and did not draw forth red,
And from the fourth turn of the game
The Brit's were good as dead..."

Or at least they wished they were...