Game of the Napoleonic Peninsular war, Spain 1806. .
Using Sharpe Practice in 28mm.
Organized, using terrain and models by David Maltman, Chris Caves and Jeremy Dowd and lightly umpired by David Maltman and Jeremy Dowd.
AAR by Jeremy Dowd, with some additions by the Editor.
Players
British : Chris Caves, David Brown, David Taylor and David Maltman.
French : Jeremy Dowd, Phil McGilton and David Smylie.
The background…
Catalonia, Northern Spain, 31 July 1806.
Mongat castle is a link in the French Telegraph service to Barcelona. Lord Cochrane and HMS Impérieuse have been sent to mount a combined attack with the local Guerrillas.
The Tower is the remaining tower of the old castle which has been patched up to a reasonable state. Some of the old castle walls have been left in a ramshackle condition as the locals have removed stones to use for their own building needs.
The ship has disembarked Royal Marines, armed sailors and a unit of Congreve rockets to the shore which signals the Guerrillas to begin their attack. It also provides limited artillery support, constrained as it is by distance, sea conditions, and the need for communication with the shore to avoid hitting friendly troops.
The British objective is to blow up the tower.
The French defenders are limited in numbers to begin with, though reinforcing Voltigeurs and Hussars are on their way…
The game table :
The British landing goes unopposed due to cannon fire from the ship keeping the French in their trenches and under cover in the castle grounds.
The Royal Marines, led by Captain Caves, currently having to ride on an ass due to his gout, hit the beach and were soon advancing at the run towards the walls in front of the Tower. Unfortunately for them, some accurate shooting by two groups of French line infantry caused great slaughter, including the Captain. At first their advance faltered, and eventually they broke and fell back to take shelter behind their boats.
The sailors commanded by Bosun Brown were more circumspect in their advance, some of them suffering from the effects of dehydration, perhaps due to over-consumption of rum.
Meanwhile, the Voltigeurs under Sous-Lieutenant Smylie had returned from patrol and moved up into the walled area, although some were slowed by extreme thirst under the blazing sun.
Bosun Brown’s sailors managed to get close enough to charge the French line infantry, routing the first group and forcing the second to fall back behind the cover of a wall. One group of Voltigeurs had taken up position in time to shoot at close range into the victorious, but disorganised, British. The surviving sailors decided that discretion was the better part of valour, and headed back to the safety of their ship.
Other sailors thought about assaulting the trenches, but the accurate fire of a group of Grenadiers made them think again.
The greatest threat to the defenders of the trenches, led by Capitain Philippe, appeared to be the Congreve rockets commanded by Lieutenant Maltman. Early in the day, these infernal devices inflicted some shock on Philippe’s line infantry. However, their wayward trajectories and the attentions of Gunner Jérémy’s cannon in the Tower rendered them fairly ineffective.
I’m a rocketman, burnin’ up his fuse up here alone…
Our rockets veered to the left then veered to the right and exploded as a wonderful sight, but contributed little to the fight, apart from giving some French men a fright...
... The safest place on the battle field seems to be the point at which the rocket is aimed.
From Lieutenant Maltmans report to Sir William Congreve.
As for the gunfire from the ship, it must have been a great disappointment to the British players. After a few turns of desultory and largely inaccurate fire, it seems the crewmen decided to call it a day before the battle was over. Perhaps again, an excess of rum was to blame!
Meanwhile, the Guerrillas and their leader El Sastre (the Tailor) also seemed to be somnolent, observing a prolonged siesta in the wood while the battle raged at the shore. However, at last the cries of their lookouts echoed around the trees, and the Guerrilla skirmishers roused themselves at the sound of approaching hooves.
Three groups of French Hussars came into view and started to advance towards the coast to rescue their compatriots, gradually increasing their speed. As the first group passed the edge of the wood they came under withering fire from the Guerrillas, which unhorsed several and piled shock onto the rest.
The other two groups of horsemen also came under fire; the thickness of the ancient wood meant that they couldn’t attack their tormentors. Their only hope was to press on and outrun the Guerrillas. Inspired by the marksmanship of the brothers Gonzales, however, the Spaniards kept up the rate and accuracy of their fire. First one leader fell, mortally wounded, and his Hussars turned tail and ran. Then a second was shot dead, and again his troopers broke and fled.
“Alors, mes amis, you’re heading the wrong way!!”
By the time the third group of Hussars was broken, word of the carnage had spread to the rest of the defending force. With their reinforcements routed, French morale plummeted and the infantry quietly withdrew as quickly as they could, surrendering the Tower to Lord Cochrane’s men.
The tyrannical French brought their instrument of terror to cow the Spanish people. Only for it to to be the fate in store for the French leaders.
After the end of the leaders it was set on fire along with the castle.
The British forces returned to their ship to celebrate.
The Spanish melted back into the countryside.
Credit to David Maltman for the imaginative scenario and terrain, and to Chris Caves, who supplied most of the figures and the magnificent ship.
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Editorial comments.
When the sailors returned to their ship and the Rum ration had been distributed, they composed a new sea shanty. They mocked both the French and the Royal artillery rocket battery.
What will we do with the dead Frenchman?
What will we do with the dead Frenchman?
What will we do with the dead Frenchman?
Early in the evening
Impale him on the castle flagpole
Impale him on the castle flagpole
Impale him on the castle flagpole
Just like Vlad would do
What will we do with the dead Frenchman?
What will we do with the dead Frenchman?
What will we do with the dead Frenchman?
Early in the evening
Place him on a lit gunpowder barrel
Place him on a lit gunpowder barrel
Place him on a lit gunpowder barrel
An blow him onto the flagpole
Way hay and up he flies
Way hay and up he flies
Way hay and up he flies
Early in the evening
What will we do with the dead Frenchman?
What will we do with the dead Frenchman?
What will we do with the dead Frenchman?
Early in the evening
Put him on the end of a Congreve rocket
Put him on the end of a Congreve rocket
Put him on the end of a Congreve rocket
And fire him at the flag pole
Way hay and up he flies, off to the left
Way hay and up he flies, off to the right
Way hay and up he flies, coming back at us
No chance of hitting the flag pole
What will we do with the dead Frenchmen?
What will we do with the dead Frenchmen?
What will we do with the dead Frenchmen?
Early in the evening
Put them up on the flagpole
Put them up on the flagpole
Put them up on the flagpole
Like a shish kebab
That's what we do with the dead Frenchman
That's what we do with the dead Frenchman
That's what we do with the dead Frenchman
Early in the evening
In his quest to find copy for you our fine readers, your editor approached the pre-eminent military poet of the time. Lord Byron was asked to pen a suitable poem to celebrate the victory and as he was three sheets to the wind and a mediocre bottle of wine was provided as incentive, he agreed.
The Demise of Mongat Castle, by Lord George Gordon Byron, 6th Baron Byron.
So what became of Mongat castle,
Its floors so combustible.
The loss caused Bony much hassle,
Having to replace the telegraph with a horse and vassal.
By the rockets red delight,
Veering to the left then veering to the right.
Some Frenchies got a fright,
But were still in the fight.
Our ships cannon balls were landward bound,
But their mark was not to be found.
The French they did not pound,
but fell unbloodied upon the ground.
The Marines were led by a man with his ass on an ass,
who got killed early, so command did pass
to the lowly Sergeant, fighting above his class.
Got them firing, the Frenchies to harass.
As for our jolly jack tars,
They got tore in with swords and crowbars.
Bashing French heads to make them see stars,
Giving them a multitude of scars.
The Spaniards give good accounts,
When the cavalry arrived on their fine mounts.
Their steady shooting reduced their counts
and caused so many routs.
When the French did finally break,
Their leaders were seen to quake.
As madame le guillotine their heads did take,
causing their bodies to violently shake.
Finally, the castle was put out of action,
with gunpowder stored without protection.
All the tars had to do was set the powder alight to their satisfaction.
And then perform a damn quick extraction.
Castle Mongat is no more.
The telegraph lies broken and burnt upon the floor.
Destroyed the Guillotine which we so abhor,
to be used by the French nevermore.
The scenario was based on a scenario from Wargames, Soldiers and Strategy #43, March 2009.
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Photos curtesy of Chris and the Editor.
