Dappol Grapple Part 2

The Silesian rifleman lining the hedgerows grimly selected their targets as the French mass advanced across the open fields.

Meanwhile, the 7th Lancers clattered forward unopposed. Murat, however, felt strangely uneasy. The fate of all Europe seemed to hang in the balance.

Murat: The eyes of the Emperor are upon us boys, so don't cock it up!

The Death Ride von Dörnberg

Dörnberg knew that unless he acted the French cavalry would be pouring onto his open flank within moments. It was time to do or die.

Dörnberg: Time for a bit of Warsaw Coleslaw lads! Charge!

With a cry of "Hurrah!", the Estorffs charged straight towards the Poles. Lowering their lances, the Poles immediately spurred their horses into a countercharge. Within an instant the two regiments were upon each other.

rumble, rumble, rumble...………….ting!

Murat: Go get 'em boys. Those damn Prussians 've got my Polish crown in a vault in Berlin, you know!

Meanwhile, pausing only to straighten his line, Soult marched his men straight towards the cottages. The Silesian  riflemen behind the hedgerows began picking off the voltigeurs, but could do nothing to halt the advance.

Soult: We must be dressed to impress!

 The French army opened its arms, preparing to embrace....

Napoleon: Let's let them feel the love then, shall we?

...only to receive a sharp rebuke from the defiant Germans as Murat's men were decimated by Dörnberg's Dandified Desperados.

Murat: Nooooooooooooooo!!!!

As their captain was cut down by the furious Teutonic onslaught, the shaken lancers fell back and then broke. The pursuing Estorffs then charged straight in to the Guard Dragoons who had been forming up in the rear.

Ornano: We've been Pole-vaulted!

The leading French battalion formed square, bringing the entire flanking column to a shuddering halt. Dörnberg's desperate gamble seemed to have paid off handsomely.

That far-off afternoon suddenly seem to flicker in and out of view. The atmosphere was electric.

Napoleon: Eugene!!!! Do something!

As the sound and pictures crackled and fizzed, JC and I thought we could hear the Emperor furiously shouting something. It took a couple of sharps thumps on the time machine to restore reception. As the picture resharpened, we could see that Ornano's men had made short work of the Estorffs and were chasing their shattered remnants far into the German rear. Dörnberg, alas, was dead.

Meanwhile, the inexorable French pincer movement was also beginning to have an effect.

Held up by the hedgerows to their rear, the Silesian riflemen were mercilessly shot down as they tried to retreat.

Castella de Berlans and the Swiss, however, had been made to pay dearly for their advance against the Silesians on the far left.

Swiss: We're getting more holes than our cheese!

Moments later, Alten and the Bremen Battalion, disordered by the hail of shot tearing through the cottage, were engulfed by flames as the thatch was set alight by a French cannon ball.

Alten: Now that is the flaming limit.

The Lützowers also started to take losses from the storm of French shot. Another French cannon ball tore through the walls, killing von Arentschildt. Lützow's men cried out: "Vhere are ze Prussians!"

Lützow: : It's Hanover for him!

With the fire taking hold in the ancient and tinder-dry timbers of the cottage, Alten's men were swiftly forced to evacuate. The French infantry surged forward, determined to follow up their advantage,

Napoleon: Ah, there's like coming home to a real fire!

Forced back into the narrow lane between the buildings, the Bremen Battalion started falling fast in the hail of French museketry. Alten could do little except continue the retreat.

Alten: It's getting a bit too hot for us, boys!

The only hope was for night and the Prussians. The prayers of the Lützowers seem to have been heard, however, for as the shadows lengthened in that late afternoon, the Prussian army burst onto the field.

Prussians: Dat Dat Daaaa!

Ornano had no option but to launch his blown dragoons into the Prussian masses.

Onano: Have we got to do everything round here!

It was now a race against time. The clockwork on our time machine was running out.

Napoleon: Drat! Those cursed Rosbeefs are going to get away!

Blucher reviewed the situation and realised that there was little he could do other than conduct an orderly retreat. All was far from lost. The French had been severely mauled and could be stopped another day.

Blucher: Ve're late Clausewitz! Zat ist ze last time I let you do ze navigating!

The French struggled to reorganise in the gathering darkness, but could not prevent the escape. In the confusion Ney was hit by a stray shot coming from the churchyard.....

French: Time to start frying the onions, lads.

...and Davout was felled by a Russo-German cannon ball as it raked through his beloved 67th.

It was a costly victory.
_____________________

…..And so it ended. Wellington Lad II declared a narrow French tactical victory, which just about salvaged the family honour. JC, however, claimed the moral victory, and I was forced to agree. The insane charge of the Estorffs had mucked up my plans completely! JC was chuckling all the way back down the hallway as he headed back to his car.

Those were the days.

WM