Flashman and Robinson at Brentonville - a Confederate Victory!

"Steady the Lights! Watch those intervals Hobbs! Where are those Georgian Heavies dammit?"

This I found myself a-hollering to a bunch of wild-eyed Southern boys (who hadn't had much of a taste of war yet, but weren't bad horsemen by my own high standards) on a fine summers day in a devilish place called Brentonville, in the eastern side of the Shenandoah valley.

I had been given orders from that fool Digby-Chinless (an old Rugby enemy) to amble my way up this valley, and avoid battle at all costs. Never was quite sure what he expected me to do when I ran into a Yankee cavalry brigade of 1000 horse, and not a friendly infantry brigade for me to retreat safely behind for 10 miles. It was quite plainly clear what he wanted to happen of course.

I had been reading - with increasing alarm - as my "superiors" in this misadventure, sent me a stream of contradicting instructions, all gravitating towards my certain destruction. In the end of course, it matters not one jot who says what, when you find yourself on the back of a grey, staring a few hundred yards across a field at what amounted to your almost certain demise in the form of 1000 blue coats of the North's finest. Which is quite where I found myself on July 28, 1861.

We had been walking our merry band North along the main road from Rileysville to Front Royal, where the aforementioned town of Brentonville is to be found. I rode a short way ahead, and found myself greeted by the rather attractive self proclaimed...

“Leader, of the Brenownviylle Laydeez club sir, and may ah say what an absolute pleysha it is to have such a fine, strapping young mayn rahdin into our itty bitty town! Is theyre any way at awll ah could be of service to ya’ll?”

Now, we had been riding for quite a while, and the thought of a hot bath, some decent food, and a spot of galloping practise on this young hussy was most tempting, but before I could even tip my hat, the familiar (but always petrifying) “whizz” of a rifle shot flew somewhere nearby, and collided with one of the surrounding wooden shacks that pass as homes in these parts.

“Good God! Get inside madam! Eastwood! Where in the devil’s name did that come from! I’ve bloody well told you before about your boys and their bloody target practis...”

But before I could finish my curses to one of my squadron commanders, the impudent so-and-so answered me straight back...

“North of the Town sir - look there!”

My head turned and I could see the blue hats of Yankee soldiers just peeping over the top of some corn in a field, just North of the town, only perhaps 200 yards away. Fortunately, having realised that my best chance of survival was to surround myself with loyal, and half-decent soldiers, my subordinates were already forming an outstanding flanking maneuver of what turned out to be a single enemy cavalry squadron. The crackling sound of special issue shortened cavalry rifles, or “carbines”, made such a din that I found I could merrily sing “row your boat” and nobody batted an eyelid. The powder smoke filled the air, so that it was no surprise to find just 4 unhappy dead after the enemy had eventually scampered off.

During the course of this affair, I became most frightfully concerned with the possibility that we were about to be ambushed. On the east of the town, the hills roll up, and I could not see what was beyond the ridge line. If the enemy rolled down upon us here, we would have been in a very bad position. Fortunately, the other poor fellows were just as misguided as yours truly, and had become lost after reading a map upside down or somesuch.

After my men’s celebrations from seeing off the enemy squadron, several began dismounting and entering the town, looking for what they could in the way of reasons for putting themselves in the way of angry Northern folk - these reasons usually turning out to be drinking, gambling and whoring, which as you know, closely coincide with my own favourite pastimes. However, I was in such a funk at the possibility of a counter attack that when I barked at the brigade sergeant major to pull those chaps back onto their horses, he must have thought I was in a fit temper, for I never saw him move so fast, and bark so loudly, and lash at those chaps so cruelly as he did.

Minutes later, we were back in our saddles, heading up the hill towards that ridgeline, which I believed would give us a much better chance of knowing what to expect...

As we crested the hill, the full weight of our predicament hit me. An entire Union cavalry regiment (the 2nd, of I Corps, it turned out) was sauntering its way up the next set of hills to the North, and was starting to take up defensive positions. Through my binoculars I could see the men dismounting, and taking up strong positions, using fences for cover, with others taking the horses to the rear. My heart was in my mouth dear reader, and when a courier came a galloping up to me at full tilt and called out my name, I nearly fell out of my saddle.

"Message from corps command sir!"

He held out the note, his ridiculous cheerful face beaming as his hand was thrust towards me with the slip of paper. I took it off him, and scanned it. More preposterous orders from Forty, attempting to explain why he was trying to scupper my chances of survival out here. The last paragraph read:

"To you however I would most definitely say, do not attack the enemy cavalry without infantry support! Why fight the enemy on equal terms when should you wait but a day or two, you will easily crush him with Col Weathers brigade also? At the very least the enemy has now contacted you and will no doubt send back north some infantry from New Market. This in itself will weaken his push south towards Harrisonburg."

If I was in a funk before, this time fury really did get the better of me. I could imagine old Fortescue, lounging back in his leather recliner, puffing away at his pipe, dictating notes to some lackey about why, under all circumstances, I should not be put in charge, and so on and so forth, sipping Brandy, and smirking to himself, while burying his nose in some book about Roman elephant tactics. You see, it's this type of fellow that will cost an army dearly, unless they're dispatched at once, or sent packing to somewhere far away. And here he was, again setting me up: "Forward Flashy! But don't attack, and don't run away old boy, or ye shall be stripped of yer commission! There's a good fellow!"

I had to do what I could to undermine his command at all costs - since otherwise he would surely end up seeing me cut in half by grape-shot, or something equally delightful.

Since I had the order to "not attack", it was clear that I must. I arranged my four squadrons in a square around myself, maximising my personal chance of survival. I thought back to my Crimean experiences, and the hideous mistakes made there. If there's one thing I've learnt, its not to take an entrenched enemy head-on. A bit of feigning, and some bodged commands later, and we were in a position to begin our attack, on the enemy's left flank.

The 3rd Continental Cavalry under Major N May, made up of British expatriates dismounted and began to fire their carbines into a regiment of dismounted Union men not 100 yards further up the heights. Meanwhile, the 4th Continental Hussars (more expatriates) under Major A Eastwood resplendent in rather dazzling uniforms, moved further round to attempt to flank the union regiment. But the move was spotted, and a fresh union regiment moved across to hold off the Hussars. But the Hussars had not spotted the new threat, and I galloped as fast as I could to warn them. Unfortunately for me, those keen gentlemen took my galloping flustering gesticulations as a signal to begin a terrible charge, which I found unable to escape from, my steed becoming over-excited, and completely unresponsive to my kicking and tugging. I screamed at the others to stop, but now they spotted the new enemy unit, and redirected their charge, dragging my into the awful, bloody fray of cavalry melee. Sabres clashed, men screamed as they were cut down, and horses fell and broke their legs and necks. I cannot remember how I managed to escape from that awful mess, but, afte what seemed like an eternity, the enemy fled before us. The Hussars dismounted, and took up firing positions behind a fence. They had managed to reach the summit, and held a commanding position. A good commander would have stayed, and sent couriers for reinforcements, so naturally I galloped back down the hill to find reinforcements for myself.

The 3rd Continental cavalry had just decided it was time to fall back, which provided a perfect cover for me to ride directly away from the enemy, and appear to "rally" these men. As I looked behind me, I could see the Hussars had become confused, and were moving back and forth, possibly triggered by my own withdrawal.

After muttering a few confused words to the Continentals, I realised that I had abandoned the 1st and 2nd Georgian Dragoons (I believe the self-designations of Lights and Heavies can only have been a reference to their drinking habits only - all carried carbines and sabres to battle, not a lance to be seen!) Rode over to them to find out what was happening, only to find them exhausted after they had engaged themselves in a protracted ranged uphill shooting match.

Things suddenly looked dire. All of my squadrons were exhausted, three were still at the bottom of this hill, and the one at the top could not be seen.

I decided to let the men rest while I cantered back up the hill to find the Hussars. I found them in a good position, and overlooking the enemy, who, through some miracle, had fallen back. I sent couriers at once to the other three squadrons to bolster our position, and no sooner had I done this then I spotted a lone figure calmly walking his horse up to me. It turned out to be the somewhat eccentric Col J T Robinson, who appeared to be of the belief that he was in no danger at all.

"Good day to you sir!"

he called out to me. All I could think to blurt out was a "You're a brave man, coming so far forward of your lines sir!". I was thinking to myself, why are my men not taking a crack at this madman, while they have the chance, and we shall all be better off. I realised that of course this is the infamous "gentleman's agreement", that we shall hurl everything we have at each-other for several hours, sacrifice the lives of our men quite freely, and then amble off to one side to discuss the latest cricket scores.

"Oh, I believe I'm quite safe!"

said the fellow, and sat there, bolt upright, admiring the scenery. Well, you know that here is one fellow who's ne'er the Gentleman when it comes to a chance to save his skin, and I was attempting to signal furiously behind my back the tell the Hussars to do away with this fellow. Instead, they decided to slowly walk forwards. At this point, Robinson shot me a sideways look, winked, and cantered off back to his lines. Quite mad, and I daresay, I'll come across him again, and he'll finish me off.

Shortly after this, the rest of my mixed cavalry regiment came trotting up the hill, and deployed along a long, straight fence-line, facing the enemy around 300 yards opposite us, similarly poised. Out of rifle range, a union squadron trotted out into the green field between us, that would end up known as "Bloody Field".

It was the 1st Georgian Light Dragoons, as I recall, having had a little rest, and a large drink, who decided to charge the Union men as I sat on my mount, wondering what to do next. They swept me along into the fray, and I tried to maintin some sort of order.

"Steady the Lights! Watch those intervals Hobbs! Where are those Georgian Heavies dammit?"

The heavies of course, were still drinking, and not yet ready to join this charge, and an instant later the screams and slashing and death whirled around me once more. Once the enemy retreated, the Georgians charged once more into the next Union squadron, and again the slaughter commenced. Once thing I can advise against, is crossing swords with a tight Georgian, as their skill with the sabre is unmatched, but when driven by moonshine their animal instincts are released, and nothing but their own kind could halt them. They saw the second squadron off, and as the rest of my command rode up, the enemy started a mass withdrawal, signalling the end of the whole horrific affair.

We returned to the town of Brentonville, where the tarts of the "ladies club" proved most capable of attending to our saddle sore selves, and demonstrating their own equestrian skills during the rest of the night.

Obviously, a candidate for the next Brad Pitt flick. Awaiting the follow-up installment.

Well written, sir!

-Ron

WJPalmer wrote:Obviously, a candidate for the next Brad Pitt flick. Awaiting the follow-up installment.

Well written, sir!

-Ron

Many thanks Ron, I enjoyed reading yours too.

I have completed the story, but appended it to the end of the original, so it's all there in one place now.

Replay is available on request.

Bravo 'brave' Flashman. That was well done sir! Or at least it is written as if it was (which is half the battle).

No scurvy mounted northern factory fodder can face souther cavaliers on moonshine!

Martin (J)

Might be an idea to not include quite so much information for the enemy next time, particularly regarding other CSA forces?

Excellent report! Keep 'em coming ...

Anyone want to secede from the Confederacy?

Mr. Digby wrote:Might be an idea to not include quite so much information for the enemy next time, particularly regarding other CSA forces?

Yes, that was an accident, sorry - I meant to go in and edit that out, but then forgot. Also, I'm confused about Col Weathers anyway - I read about him playing on the Union side at Harrisonburg? I thought he was on our side?

Also, I do hope you understand all this mud-slinging is strictly "in-character"

This was an excellent report. Your dalliance with drink and women makes you the kind of man that Gen Georgia can always use. The pay would be much better too.

Uncle Billy wrote:This was an excellent report. Your dalliance with drink and women makes you the kind of man that Gen Georgia can always use. The pay would be much better too.

Real money too. But could his apparent reluctance to throw mud at Digby-Chinless be a problem? Maybe a character flaw........

A well-wisher

Thanks Flash

Great report. You are making me want to delve into the Flashman novels again.

I would like a copy of the replay, if that's not to much trouble, old chap.

It might be a while before I can view it but I definitely will some time in the not too distant future.

Mike

Grog wrote:Thanks Flash

Great report. You are making me want to delve into the Flashman novels again.

I would like a copy of the replay, if that's not to much trouble, old chap.

It might be a while before I can view it but I definitely will some time in the not too distant future.

Mike

Aye, cheers chaps. It was fun to write - but it's been years since I read any of the Flashman books. I also found myself worrying about historical accuracy of some bits and pieces, you set out to write a fun report and end up trawling the internet about information pertaining to tiny detail!

Mike - and anyone else who's interested, the replay can be gotten here:
[You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]

I think it's interesting because of the cavalry-only nature. As someone pointed out - "ride over two fences and your men are exhausted!"

FlashmanKBE wrote:

Aye, cheers chaps. It was fun to write - but it's been years since I read any of the Flashman books. I also found myself worrying about historical accuracy of some bits and pieces, you set out to write a fun report and end up trawling the internet about information pertaining to tiny detail!

Mike - and anyone else who's interested, the replay can be gotten here:
[You must be registered and logged in to see this link.]

I think it's interesting because of the cavalry-only nature. As someone pointed out - "ride over two fences and your men are exhausted!"

I think the 'two fence fatigue' issue is with the antietam maps, and not the horses' fault. Had we fought on a different map, I think the troops would have had more energy.

FlashmanKBE wrote:Also, I do hope you understand all this mud-slinging is strictly "in-character"

Oh, absolutely!

Flashy old chap, when I click your link I get the .rep file opened. The screen is a mass of text. Not sure if its useable in that format.

EDIT: It is, though you have to copy/select all and paste into a notepad document and save it as a .rep file.

Mr. Digby wrote:
Flashy old chap, when I click your link I get the .rep file opened. The screen is a mass of text. Not sure if its useable in that format.

EDIT: It is, though you have to copy/select all and paste into a notepad document and save it as a .rep file.

The alternative is to right-click the link, and Save As...

I am still playing as a Confederate brigade commander, one whose position was unknown until the dispatches in this thread
and yes, I did play as Union brigade commander who had the highest infantry score at the end of the battle of Harrisonburg. Perhaps it is the summer heat which is affecting the "brain-trust" of Confederate command.

Two battles fought, two times with the Union and with the new influx of manpower on the CS side I'd advocate you switch to the Union permanently. You'd surely be welcome since we lack players anyways.

Weathers would be needed to command his own CSA brigade when it sees action, since its on special duties.

Let's not have switching sides at this point.

Little Mac is an exception, as he never participated Union. They still have his brigade in action (Eden) and he has not yet formed a CS brigade. Now's not a good time. The next campaign will allow adjustments in side loyalties before it starts. :-)

-Neal

SWeathers wrote:I am still playing as a Confederate brigade commander, one whose position was unknown until the dispatches in this thread
and yes, I did play as Union brigade commander who had the highest infantry score at the end of the battle of Harrisonburg. Perhaps it is the summer heat which is affecting the "brain-trust" of Confederate command.

I don't know which is more damaging:

1) Me giving away your position.
2) Your clearly unmatched skills being used to defeat your own team!

But I rather suspect the latter, what?

It's hard to build a sense of team-spirit when the guy watching your back is also wiping out your comrades wholesale.

Perhaps we could consider imposing some rules against this in future campaigns?

Going forward, only designated "floaters" should galvanize as needed.

Although I wish in no way to diminish the appreciation I have for those who have "taken one for the team" and worn the blue coat to keep the campaign moving forward.

-Neal

Flashy makes a fair point. In the past I've used 2 teams of map commanders and then when the first battle occurs, players are given commands as needed but then after that, they retain those sides thereafter.

The alternative is good game design where you do not need more players than you can supply!

This subject aside though we really must be careful about these wonderfully written in-character battle reports giving away far too much.

In fact since no-one in the entire campaign should know the result apart from the umpire and the commanders who are actually there, I don't agree with any AARs at all. People are forgetting that they completely kill the kriegspiel aspect of fog of war and limited information.

AARs should be written but kept private until the umpire allows them to be publically reported (say a few days later in game time) in the guise of a newspaper report that all commanders could read. This way we enjoy the well-written AARs but we also retain the kriegspiel aspect of limited knowledge.

Mr. Digby wrote:Flashy makes a fair point. In the past I've used 2 teams of map commanders and then when the first battle occurs, players are given commands as needed but then after that, they retain those sides thereafter.

The alternative is good game design where you do not need more players than you can supply!

This subject aside though we really must be careful about these wonderfully written in-character battle reports giving away far too much.

In fact since no-one in the entire campaign should know the result apart from the umpire and the commanders who are actually there, I don't agree with any AARs at all. People are forgetting that they completely kill the kriegspiel aspect of fog of war and limited information.

AARs should be written but kept private until the umpire allows them to be publically reported (say a few days later in game time) in the guise of a newspaper report that all commanders could read. This way we enjoy the well-written AARs but we also retain the kriegspiel aspect of limited knowledge.

This is another good idea we will implement.

-Neal

Mr. Digby wrote:
In fact since no-one in the entire campaign should know the result apart from the umpire and the commanders who are actually there, I don't agree with any AARs at all. People are forgetting that they completely kill the kriegspiel aspect of fog of war and limited information.

AARs should be written but kept private until the umpire allows them to be publically reported (say a few days later in game time) in the guise of a newspaper report that all commanders could read. This way we enjoy the well-written AARs but we also retain the kriegspiel aspect of limited knowledge.

I agree with this, despite being guilty of not respecting it. Actually, the fact that there was a battle should not be known I suppose, as that reveals information about the position of units that would not have previously been known.

It's actually pretty tough to maintain radio silence to the level needed to do all this properly. The other aspect is the lightning fast couriers that we receive sometimes. I heard about the result of New Market before submitting orders for a turn in which I should not have known this result. But it would have been hard for me not to have heard about this result I think. If lots of people play a battle, can we really expect them to maintain radio silence for several weeks about it?

I shaln't write any more reports. Or rather, all future reports should be sent by courier, and then the courier system determines who gets to hear about what. Other than that, I suppose we just have to try and be honest, and not inform eachother of stuff we shouldn't be!

OTOH, I really like reading the AARs of battles I've taken part in, asap after the battle. It's fun to read about it while the battle's fresh in the memory.

I see the argument for radio silence but it reduces the fun of the post-game threads. Knowing nothing about what is going on may be more historically accurate but it's dull.

If we are going to go the 'radio silence' route, perhaps the players in the battle could circulate any AARs they write to their comrades present at the battle as soon as they're published, on a 'For Your Eyes Only' basis.

-Jeff

Unfortunately its one of those things where there's no two ways about it. If we don't keep up the fullest fog of war that we can, we aren't playing Kriegspiels and so shouldn't even run campaigns on this site!

The lack of knowing what is going on is key to the way the game should be played. Think of the AARs as being like a 200m high free roving camera in a HITS game. It completely destroys what we are trying to achieve.

AARs can still be written; you'll just have to put up with reading them much later. Or as you say, those present can write them as though they are reports to their C-in-C at the battle and he can distribute them back down the line to the players who were there.

The C-in-C could then I suppose attach them to courier messages as well. It would probably be only 2 to 3 days at the most before people hear aabout a battle but as you say that could be a couple of weeks in real time.