Good Things In The Mail

Like most wargamers I suspect, I like to receive stuff in the mail. Each morning I'm faced with the delicious question of, "Will ........arrive today?!". If yes, I feel like I've won the lottery. (And the odds are a LOT better!) If not, then the sense of anticipation resets and rebuilds till the next day. (And the odds are STILL A LOT better!)

Recently, I've had some outstanding deliveries. First, on page 96 of Wargaming In History: The Seven Years War, there is a picture of a Prussian Frei Battalion Le Noble jager. The caption describes his headwear as "a black leather cap with a high front". It looked familiar. After a quick reconnaissance at www.plasticsoldierreview.com, I came across Italeri Set Number 6073, Austrian Infantry 1798 - 1805. I know. I know! They're early Napoleonic and not SYW, but... Hey! They've got leggings, casquet caps, and turnbacks on their long coats. If Brigadier Young could use RHA, then I can use these guys for my Frei Corps.

So...a quick order to the boys at Squadron Mail Order, down in Texas, resulted in four boxes (192 figures) showing up. This will enable the Markgraaf to field:

2 Frei Corps of 48 men, 1 Standard, and 1 Drummer each. (I still need 1 Mounted Colonel and 2 foot officers to finish them off.)

2 Companies of Light Infantry of 6 men each. (Still need 2 foot officers.)

1 Battalion of Grenadiers of 24 men. (They look remarkably like the picture of the Hanoverian Scheither's Corps Grenadier on page 110 of Grant & Olley's book! Will still need 1 Mounted Colonel and 2 foot officers.)

1 Battalion of Engineers of 24 men, and 2 foot officers. (I'm going to use the Fusiliers in the "Roman" Helmet. Will still need a Mounted Colonel to lead them.)

Any leftovers will be employed at the Army Staff level, or will be the basis for some of my "Frankenstein-like" conversions. (Eyegor! Bring me another head!)

Secondly, my Minifig "sample" order from GFI, out in Colorado, has arrived. (Thanks Jeff for putting them in your Websites Of Interest list!) Woe to the Treasury! They fit in with all the Revell, Italeri, Scruby, and Airfix guys I've accumulated over the years. I ordered a Prussian Mounted Colonel and Horse, a Prussian Musketeer marching, a Austrian Mounted Colonel and Horse, and a Austrian Fusilier advancing. These are classy looking figures! There wasn't much flash to trim off, and I bet they are a breeze to paint up. Impressive!

I ordered a further 3 Prussian Mounted Dragoon Officers and Horses, 2 Prussian foot officers, and 1 Prussian Dragoon Trumpeter and Horse to help fill in some of the holes in my collection. I like the look of these little fellas so much, I may have to break down and get some Grant style 48 men, 5 officer regiments and hang the cost. I also might have to put in an order with the Minifig U.K. lads for their SYW and AWI "Personality" figures as well!

Last, but not least, my copy of "The Annexation Of Chiraz" has come from On Military Matters. Mr. Grant and Mr. Olley have taken a giant step forward from their "Raid On St. Michel". I am a big fan of minicampaigns, and "Annexation" gives us a "peek behind the curtain" as to how Messrs. Grant and Olley went about it. It's a good read, and I'll be referring to it often.

So! On to the next item on the Neverending List Of Wargaming Stuff, as soon as time, chance, circumstance, and finance allow. I wonder how those Garrison figures would fit in...

A Moment With The Markgrafin

After a morning inspection and saber drill with his squadron of Saddlesore Lifeguard Lancers, Colonel Somerussian Guyovich casually wandered through the palace grounds, looking every inch the "Beau Sabreur" he was, while searching for his sister, Sharon Elaine, the Markgrafin of Raubenstadt. He eventually found her having a light lunch in a "Repose Temple" in the formal gardens. A squad of his brother David's Guard Musketeers was discretely scattered about nearby to insure that no one approached unchallenged.

"Ah! Colonel Guyovich! There you are. You certainly are a dashing figure in your Cossack uniform. Do you have to use that sword to fend off all the ladies that throw themselves at you?!", she teased. "Will you join me?", she said gesturing to a seat across from her.

"Thank you, Milady.", he said as he claimed a chair, keeping up the pretense that they were not closely related. "What's on the bill of fare? I'm frightfully sharp set and hunger is indeed the best sauce."

"The potato salad goes remarkably well with the bratwurst and a bit of mustard. I also recommend the iced strawberry cordial. It's very spritely."

"And this is...?", Guyovich inquired.

"A salad made with three kinds of beans as the main ingredients.", she replied. "There are rumors that the Frankfurters are working on a salad with five beans!", she confided.

"Remarkable.", he responded, as his plate and glass were filled.

As soon as the servants were out of earshot, the conversation took a more serious turn.

I'm surprised that you have enough of a saber left to carry, Paul. Is it true you hone it everyday?", the Markgrafin inquired.

"Sargent Malik looks at me every morning and says, 'Hetman, a dull sword is of no use to anyone.', then he puts an edge on it that would do credit to a razor. Father always thought I was an indifferent 'hack and slash' man, and Uncle Mack spent many a long hour drilling with me, but I've come a long way since then. I have done my best to pass on those skills to your own sons."

Sharon nodded and changed the subject.

"All of my requests for an audience have been courteously rejected, but rejected none the less."

"They're obviously stalling for time, but why and to what purpose? Who gains from the delay?", her brother pondered. "Uncle Mack is very concerned about the reliability of his sources.", he continued,"Even the Badmann network may have been compromised. He says he feels like...how did he put it? Ah yes! 'A one legged man in an ass kicking contest.'. He always had a gift for a colorful turn of phrase.", he laughed.

"Poor Uncle Mack.", she said as she joined in the laughter. "Well...he knew the job was dangerous when he took it. It's a very tangled web, and there is no easy way to unravel it. We tug on a few threads here and there to no avail. Legend says that Alexander used his sword to cut through the Gordian Knot. We may have to use similar means. We need friends in high places and leverage. I believe I can supply both!".

"Oh?!", her brother injected. "How?"

"Let me demonstrate." She pointed her closed fan at a dish that had been set upon a nearby stand. The dish suddenly shattered and the pieces fell to the ground. Both Von Kerns turned to see their brother David wave from a palace balcony and start to reload his air rifle.

"Friends in high places indeed! And the leverage?", Paul asked.

"It will be interesting to see how the Court reacts when I mention that the cabbage and Saurkraut contracts between Frankzonia and Raubenstadt are due to expire soon."

"Well that shall certainly set a cat among the pigeons", Paul laughed at his sister's audacity.

"I hope so!", she replied. "It's a good thing David is an excellent wing shot, when the pigeon we want takes flight."

Their glasses clinked as they toasted their plans.

"Death to Stagonia!", the Cossack Colonel said in a soft tone.

"Confusion to our foes!", the Markgrafin replied.

In the shadows of the carefully clipped and trimmed hedges and shrubs, von Mack slipped his spyglass back into a pocket. It looked like it was going to be another long day.

Looking For The High Command

Except for three regiments of HistoriFig Scruby infantry (two of them Lights) and one lonely Minifig casting of Lafaytte on his horse that I purchased lo these many years ago in my youth, the rest of my forces are plastic. Zvezda, Italeri, Revell, and some really long service Airfix American Revolution George Washington's Army compose the bulk of my forces. Much to my delight HaT Industrie will be releasing a SYW line soon that will rival their Napoleonic offerings, and I plan to purchase a boatload of 'em as soon as they're available. (Insert creepy organ music here.)

However...I'm really at a loss for mounted officers above the rank of Colonel that really look the part and fit in with the rest of the guys. You know Generals pointing, contemplating their next move, squinting through a spyglass, or looking at a map. I long to have Staff and Aides-de-Camp galloping about, etc. carrying out the directions of their superiors. HistoriFig currently offers only one mounted officer in their SYW range and he makes a great colonel. Sometime ago I ordered the Prussian General Set from the excellent fellows at DPC. They are great castings with next to no flash to clean up, and they looked good to me once they were painted up. Now normally, a millimeter or two of height difference doesn't bother me, but they are pretty beefy and tower over the rest of the troops. On the other hand, who would disobey a general that looks like he can pick you up and break you like a twig over his knee.

Old Glory might be a better fit, and I do like their Fred the Great casting...there's just something about the cane he's carrying. Their Brunswick figure is pretty impressive as well. I suppose that since a tricorne is a tricorne, their American Revoluion line may also provide some volunteers as well.

Push comes to shove, I may just have to bite the bullet and order from Minifig UK. Lafayette will be glad to see 'em.

Shop Talk With Von Mack

A few moments after Small Paul and his companions had left the inn, Badmann came sauntering in off the street and saw Mack sitting at a table looking at something in his hand. Noticing the splattered blood trail on the floor, he asked, "What happened here?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle.", Mack replied blandly, as he slipped a coin into his vest pocket. "Come follow me. I've got a private room in the back."

With that Mack picked up a bottle of schnapps and a couple of glasses from the bar, and lead the way to a backroom that was little more than a large closet, a table, and a couple of chairs. "It's cramped. I know, but it's not going to take us that long."

Mack sat down in a chair and opened the bottle. Badmann filled the two glasses and was about to sit down, when he noticed Mack had one hand under the table.

"What?!" Mack said at his friend's hesitation. "Oh...". He slowly raised his hand and reached for one of the glasses, as a relieved Badmann took his seat. "An old trick, but a good trick, none the less. Well...the bottle is opened, it must be drunk, and only truth spoken while we drink. Salute."

The glasses clinked, and soon the table was covered with an astonishing wide array of pistols, knives, daggars, garrottes, brass knuckles, and blackjacks, while the two inspected, sharpened, and cleaned their personal arsenals.

"So...what's the latest from St. Maurice? Any more of that 'zombie plague' business going around?", Mack asked.

"It's been pretty quiet for the last few months. There's been no new 'outbreaks' at any rate. Say, that reminds me. Whatever happened to that Rottenbrat fellow that escaped in the aftermath of our last collaberation? The Herzog was most put out, and I had to do some fancy tap dancing about him. There were no traces. It was like he dug a hole and pulled it in after him."

"How odd that you should say that.", Mack harumphed. "I came across his track just outside the city, and invited him to accompany me to the Felsigburg. I've never seen anybody with such a high tolerance for pain. He kept claiming that he was dead. So after a week of interrogation with no results, I agreed with him. In Raubenstadt we have a law that if a body is unclaimed by relatives after seven days, it can be given to the University's Medical College. I understand that the Professors and medical students were most anxious to examine this rare case. There must have been some spark of vitality left, because he kept screaming, 'No! No!!', when they were carting hime away. Who would have thought that someone like Rottenbrat would have had enough civic pride in him to donate his body to science?" Mack mused.

Badmann shuddered at the mental image, and downed another shot. "Steiner is recruiting at the Black Pelican in Tradgarland.", he said.

Mack was surprised. "I thought I burned that place down years ago."

"They rebuilt it after your fire, and twice after ones I set.", Badmann offered. "Syldavians are a stubborn bunch. So why have three Kerns' come to town?"

"Her Serene Highness, The Markgrafin of Raubenstadt is very annoyed that during the Reichduke's visit, her son Andrew was endangered by the Stagonian plot that was disrupted."

"But young von Meltzer is in charge of the Leib Squadron of the Reichduke, and a personal friend of Prince Wilhelm. There's danger enough in either of those positions!" Badmann exclaimed.

"I know. I know. I tried to explain this, but she wouldn't hear of it." Mack held up his hands in protest. "She's come to give the Old Duchess an earful about endangering her boy and settle some other matters that have long rankled her. Her brothers David and Paul, oh excuse me! Somerussian Guyovich are escorting her to make sure nothing happens to their sister, but I think Guyovich is hiding something. I've known them all since they were little, and as terrible as you think they are; they're not a patch on their father the Old Baron Kerns. I used to work for him when I was younger, you know. He gave me my first job. I still go to his grave every now and then. The children think that it's out of respect, but I really go to make sure that the cold bastard hasn't found a way out!"

Mack drew his hanger to sharpen it. Badmann noticed that even though the hilt, knucklebow, and handle were plain blackened iron in a mass produced Dutch style, and that the scabbard was positively shabby, the blade itself was of the finest Cologne steel, with the "Running Fox" watermark. "I have sworn an oath to protect them, and I don't care who I have to kill to do so. So what is the latest information the Frankzonian Intelligence Service has on Stagonian Agents in the area?!"

Badmann pondered, as he drank his drink, just how much he should tell this very, very dangerous man.

A Conversation with Herr Von Mack

It had become something of a tradition between Mack and Badmann that when each of them was in the other's area of operation, they would meet, clean their weapons, and trade bits of information and other "shop talk", before carrying out whatever mission they had been assigned. It was a mark of trust between the two professional agents. So it was that Mack was waiting for his friend at a disreputable inn that catered mostly to the bargemen and others who made their living off of the river traffic that had tied up to the docks of Frankfurt.

Mack spoke to the tapster behind the bar, ordered a beer and sat down at a nearby table to enjoy it, while he waited for Badmann to show. He was just about halfway through it, when a large, unkempt fellow sat down in the other chair at the table and said, "How much money do you have on you, Grandfather?"

Mack put his stein on the table, circled the lip of the mug with a forefinger, and replied, "Why do you want to know?"

"If it's enough for my thirsty friends and me to wet our throats, you might just be able to walk out of here in one piece.", the large fellow said, while cracking his knuckles and showing a yellowed tooth smile. "We've worked up a powerful thirst; rowing upriver all day!"

Mack smiled back and said, "I can see that you are a big fellow; and no doubt used to getting your way. Let me school you on why you should never sit down at a table with a man who has one hand under it."

The large man yelped and his confidence quickly leaked out of him as Mack continued in a pleasant conversational tone, "What you're feeling at your right kneecap is a very long, very sharp, and very slender knife. So keep your hands where they are. With only the slightest effort on my part, the blade will slide off the knee-cap and go into the joint, severing all kinds of ligaments, tendons, cartillage, muscle, veins, and perhaps an artery. It will be excruciatingly painful when it scrapes the bone as I twist it to pull it out."

"P-P-Please Sir! Don't!", the large man blubbered.

"What's your name?"

"Paul Peiper! They call me 'Small Paul'. Don't lame me!"

"You know Paul, it would be a terrible time to be out of work. You don't see very many one legged people working the docks. Well...except for beggers, of course. Now a stout fellow like yourself would probably survive the amputation, if this isn't the knife I used to dice an onion last night. Blood poisoning is a terrible way to die. I've seen men scream for days and days while their bodies rotted before their eyes; before the lockjaw granted them the sweet release of death. Good doctors who know how to properly saw off a leg are very expensive. They always want to be paid in advance. It would be months before you could even hope to stand again. Who sent you?"

"He never said. We were supposed to kill you and make it look like a robbery. The brass he paid was good.", Paul grimmaced.

"I'd wager that you wished that you'd asked for more right now. I'll see the color of his money. Now!"

A golden coin reluctantly fell onto the table. "All of them!", Mack insisted, giving a slight prod of the dagger. Two more coins joined the first.

"A pox upon the ragged man! And a curse upon his money!" Paul growled.

Mack drew a double barreled pistol from underneath his coat, cocked both the hammers back, and motioned to Small Paul's two companions to come over. He said, "Paul is going to need you to take him to a doctor." He then pinked him in the calf with the dagger. Small Paul yelled in pain and stood up. His two friends each grabbed an arm and supported him as they staggered from the inn. Small Paul cursed a coarse oath with every step. "Be sure to tell the surgeon to soak the bandages in vinegar, if you want to save the leg!", Mack called after them.

Mack put the pistol back on half-cock and slipped it under his coat. The daggar went back into it's boot sheath; two of the coins were dropped into a vest pocket. Mack looked down at the third coin. The profile of King Maurice of Stagonia stared back.

The Joys Of Winter

Last Wednesday evening I was taking out the trash to the curb, when I slipped on some glare ice in the driveway and landed like a ton of bricks on my left knee. I hobbled back inside the house and spent the next day and a half watching the joint swell to elephantine proportions.

Having been down this road before, I applied the R.I.C.E. technique of Rest - this was easy, since I could put very little weight on the leg. Ice packs helped reduce the pain and swelling. Compression (Thank you, Ace Bandage!), and last but not least Elevation above the heart level to keep the throbbing down as much as possible.

So the crutches have been put away, and I now look like a proper curmugeon limping along with a cane. I remember ice and snow being a lot more fun when I was younger! Perhaps it was because the ground wasn't so far away! Ha, ha, ouch! ha!

So how did I pass the tedious days and hours of recovery? Well...like any good wargamer would; painting figures and reading. When I'd get tired of one I would switch to the other, and before I knew it, I was a lot more mobile. My latest addition to the Wargame Library is "Wargaming In History,Vol. 1, The Seven Years War", by Charles Grant and Phil Olley. What a read it was! Each chapter and page held me spellbound. I haven't been so enchanted by the printed word since I first stumbled across "The Wargame" for the first time. I highly recommend it!

Actually, Messrs. Grant, Olley, Asquith, and Hyde have much to answer for making my annual wargame budget resemble a piece of Swiss cheese. Their constant barrage of publications keep blowing large holes right through it.
Well...that's enough of sitting at the computer for now. Where did I put that ice pack?!

Huzzah! The Light Cavalry!

I was trolling through the Michigan Toy Soldier And Figure Company's website, and I noticed that Revell has reissued their excellent set of Seven Year's War Prussian Hussars. They're going for $11.75 a box. So if you're in the mood to recruit batches of those dashingly uniformed rascals that we love to see "en masse" on the tabletop, now is the time to plead your case to Santa!