The Iberian Peninsular, 180-.
The infamous Spanish guerrilla
El Fontanero is chained up in a solid stone house in the small town of San Theodoras. From his darkened room he can hear the daily cycle of bells from the church next door, and the sounds of the peasants as they move up and down the dusty streets outside. Occasionally a plate of thin vegetable gruel is shoved under his door by the French guards who watch the temporary prison in which he has been held for weeks.
In the noon heat of a scorching day, the streets are hushed and shutters closed. Not even a chicken scratches at the earth. Suddenly, there are shouts from the guards and a commotion outside…could this be the long-awaited rescue?
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Spanish Grenadieros, resplendent in their white uniforms and bearing the regimental colours, marched through the fields, shook out into line, and offered a terrifying volley on the French guards who had hurriedly lined the courtyard of the prison villa. One man spun away, dead. Before the smoke had cleared, there was a terrifying cry, and three groups of guerrillas erupted from a nearby vineyard, swinging ancient but vicious swords, billhooks and musket butts. There is the odd discharge of archaic pistol, and soon the entire guard lays dead. Moving swiftly forward, the French leader, a hapless
Serjent wounded in the fight, is dispatched and hurled from the balcony. The guerrillas start smashing at the stout door.
Meanwhile, from the south there is the rumble of hooves. Trailed by a plume of dust, a large formation of dragoons in green and pink trample through a cemetery toward the grenadiers, violating the sacred precinct and smashing headstones as they gather pace. A group of Fusileros march up behind the Grenadieros as they wheel to face this threat. The guerrillas keep smashing at the door, close now to freeing their prized leader!
The dragoons accelerate to a gallop, barely slowing as they leap the low tumbledown cemetery wall, and thunder forward, a splendid wall of flashing steel and horseflesh. In moments they crash into the Spanish left and there are cries as men go down. A vicious fisticuffs ensues, surging back and forth. The dragoon leader is knocked from his horse, and bludgeoned to death by the furious Grenadieros. The dragoons wheel and slash, but the Spanish resolve is hardened by the presence of the colours - no quarter is asked, and none given.
A ragged cheer goes up as more French arrive, Colonel Reblochon, using the beat of his drummer, urging the dragoons to move forward finish off the survivors. Eventually, the Spanish line gives way, and collapses, the remaining Grenadieros, including their leader, run down and fleeing before the dragoons pull up, exhausted and their horses blown, but triumphantly shaking the captured colours.
The Fusileros formation on the Spanish right wheels to follow the horsemen moving across their left flank, and fired a volley. So too do some guerrillas, turning to crossfire the cavalry as their team-mates finally break down the villa door, and, smashing his chains, carry
El Fontanero on their shoulders into the blinding sun.
The French line - battered conscripts who have raced back from a foraging mission - followed the cavalry through the cemetery and formed on the wall. They unleash a volley on the Spanish Fusileros to little effect. The dragoons are dangerously exposed now, milling around as musket balls strike from left and right. Can they retreat before they are decimated, their task of destroying the Spanish centre complete? French morale wavers and sags low, the magnificent cavalry charge and capture of the flag meeting strengthening Spanish resolve as their beloved leader is seen alive at last!
Then, arriving long the road near the church, figures can be seen in the dust. Whose side are they on? There is a momentary hesitation, and, before any can react, a small group of panting Voltiguers can be discerned drinking from canteens, wiping their mouths with the back of their sleeves and raising muskets. With expert drill, they unleash their fire, enfilading the rescue party, shattering one group and sending the Spanish reeling from the field. In the chaos
El Fontanero himself, too weak to run on his own legs, is left behind - the sweet taste of freedom, deliciously gulped only moments before, turns to bitter ashes in his mouth…
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A very close Sharp Practice game with my compadre Ben at
Perth Miniatures Gamers Group last night, the third in a series involving the cad Colonel Jean-Louis Reblochon and his nemesis the infamous Spanish Guerrilla Leader known as
El Fontanero (‘The Plumber’). The previous adventures saw El Fontanero defeated in a battlefield duel, escorted through bandit country to San Theodoras, where for tonight’s chapter he was imprisoned, awaiting transfer elsewhere. This then was the Rescue Mission, for which the French has assigned a column of 3 Groups of line infantry, one of Voltiguers, and two of Dragoons, along with sundry leaders and Reblochon’s musician, the famous American drummer Davide Gruel. Opposing them were a Spanish force consisting of two group of Grenaderios, two of Fusileros, and three of Guerilleros, helped to sneak up by an exploring officer. The Grenadieros took with them their colours, hoping to demonstrate their honour to the hard-pressed citizenry of San Theodoras.
After stunning the French guard it seemed the Spanish would finally spring their leader. But the arrival of the dragoons and the ensuing fight swung the fight back to the French, buying them time to bring up their relief force. But in seizing the Spanish colours, the dragoons appeared to overreach, and, caught in a horrendous crossfire, were only a bad roll away from fleeing, taking their comrades with them (French Force Morale by this time down to 1).
However, the timely arrival of the Voltiguers, hitherto unseen on the field, spooked the rescuers in their moment of triumph (we let the Spanish morale rise again from 1 to 2 as El Fontanero was freed) and sent them packing with their single volley. The result more or less came down to who got in that last action.
The game was a hoot, and the result so close that it deserves another chapter!
While the guerillas smash their way into El Fontaenro's prison, the French Dragoons thunder into view, oblivious to the cemetery they're desecrating: 
The dragoons cry Tally-ho! and surge forward...
...smashing into the Spanish left
After a vicious, swirling fight, the Dragoons seize the enemy colours and send the Spanish leader fleeing...
But their pursuit has taken them into a murderous crossfire. The French line arrives to try to dig them out of their hole:
And the day is saved by the timely arrival of some Voltiguers, who coolly despatch El Fontanero's rescuers and drive them from the field, without their prize:
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April 20, 2024, 03:53:34 PM
