Dust Up at Dapol. Part One

With four new regiments to play with, it was time for another battle. Last Sunday was the selected date, and so the two armies assembled that afternoon to fight it out.

Two guest generals took command. They were my very good friend, DM, aka the Baron Friedrich Wilhelm von Driberg, a Hanoverian general lately returned from Ceylon; and Wellington Lad II, aka the Chevalier D'Essex. My role was to act as umpire and to take the photographs.

Stepping into our time machine, we dialed back to the summer of 1969. While Neil Armstrong was taking one small step for man, back in Wellington a giant leap for Hintonkind was in the making.

As we stepped out of the machine, blinking in the strong sunlight of that soft and sleepy Sunday afternoon, the sepia tones of the 60s gradually resolved themselves into glorious, Humbrol-enhanced technicolour.

The situation was as follows: it is late spring, 1813, and Napoleon's forces have pursued the beaten Prussians onto the North German plain. As the French approach the Elbe, seeking union with Davout's Corps in Hamburg, they are surprised by a much-reinforced Prusso-Hanoverian army near the small village of...er...Dapol.

The mighty (and surprisingly colourful) North German Horde prepares to advance!

Chevalier d'Essex: Sire, there are thousands of them!

Napoleon: Paff! We'll make short work of that menagerie! Or, at least..Buelp...you shall, Essex. I'm afraid I had a little too much Leibfraumilch at dinner last night.

Uncertain about what to do, Essex deployed his forces en cordon, with the cavalry massed on the left. He was strong everywhere and nowhere.

Ney (leading the 45th): It's an outrage! I should be in command!

Soult (commanding the 3rd Swiss) : Be careful what you wish for, Old Boy!

The wily old Driberg responded likewise, massing his elite Prussian guard cavalry on his right.

Driberg: Zey von't know vot iz hitting zem! Heh heh heh!

Meanwhile, on the far left, Dörnberg's Lüneburg Dandies hovered in isolation. What on earth was Driberg planning?

Dörnberg: We're not to attract any attention, Gentlemen, so try to look inconspicuous!

The Prussian Steam Roller Advances

Driberg immediately ordered the advance. The massed columns lurched into motion, drums beating and trumpets blaring.

Driberg: Now remember, lads, no deviations. Straight up ze guts!

At a loss to know what else to do, Essex responded with a general advance towards the heights. The Combined Voltigeurs swarmed into the woods.

Essex: Er....Go forwards, er, sort of thing!

In no time at all, the rival cavalries were facing off against each other. The Prussian cavalry superiority looked ominous.

Driberg: Heh, heh, heh. Hook, line und zinker!

Ney and Soult looked on, appalled. Go forwards? They should be manoeuvring towards the centre! Soult sensed impending catastrophe.

Soult: *Sigh*. Come on , Chaps. At least we can try to look our best, eh Lads?

The Bavarians behind the French left also sensed that discretion was the better part of valour and bolted for the village.

Marbot: Follow me, Bavarians! It's as safe as houses in here!

Charge and Counter Charge

Driberg seized the initiative and ordered the cavalry to charge, but in the centre and left things started to go awry almost immediately. Perturbed by the movement of the French right, parts of the massive central column began veering off course, while the Estorff Hussars, contrary to orders, impetuously started forward.

Driberg: Not zat vay,! Up Ze Guts, I said!

As the Pride of Potsdam thundered towards his line, Murat ordered a counter charge. The two cavalry masses met with an almighty clash of lances and sabres. The Empress's Dragoons held their own, but things started to go very badly indeed for the Vistula Lancers. Murat cursed his luck.

Murat: Not again! They're only hussars, Dammit! 

Someone had Blundered...

The Empress Dragoons battled on against the Prussian Garde du Corps, trading casualty for casualty.

Ornano: Have at them, men, they're only DKs!

But the Vistula Lancers were outmatched  and forced to retreat, losing heavily all the way.

Murat: I'm never going to be King of Poland at this rate!

Meanwhile, in the centre, the French and Prussian skirmish lines traded potshots, albeit to little effect. As the French massed on the heights, Driberg narrowed and deepened his assault formation in preparation for the decisive push.

Driberg: Aaach, it's only vun battalion of Imperial Guardsmen! It's nutzing, boys, nutzing!

Dörnberg was worried, however, by the advance of the Swiss, who might burst onto the Prussian flank at any moment. Reluctantly, he sounded the charge. The Estorffs leapt into action...

Soult: I sometimes wonder why I bother! Is this really the best they can do?

....only to be stopped dead in their tracks by the measured vollies of the Swiss, who had calmly formed into square. Soult remained unruffled. For the idealistic young Lützowers, however, the  carnage was horrifying.

Lützowers: !!!!!!! Perhaps ve are missing too many of ze university lectures, nicht wahr ?

To be continued......

WM