Literature by Wargamers #1 - The Forgotten Don Houghton

A real oddity - one of the things I stumbled across when compiling my Wargamer's Newsletter index - is this book by Don Houghton, of At the Colonel's Table fame. I had absolutely no recollection of seeing any of this before. The whole thing is given a slightly surreal air by the idea of a competition for those fighting the engagements in it as wargames and writing them up, plus Don Featherstone's review suggesting using Airfix 1/32 figures (including Airfix footballers as the female contingent...????). As far as I know no Battle Reports from this competition were ever published (though I may have missed them).

I bought a copy off Abebooks the other week for 64p - a whole 1p less than it cost when it first came out.

Reproduced below are the advert in Wargamer's Newsletter #172 from August 1976, together with the announcement of the competition, and DF's book review from the following month.

At the Colonel's Table, Part 5: by Don Houghton, Wargamer's Newsletter 92 November 1969

The ball and grape-shot tore great jagged lines through their ranks. But they did struggle on and joined up with the shattered Dragoon Guards, the latter now mustering less than a squadron ii strength.

The battle was all but over. Some Cuirassiers did try and give chase to my surviving infantry - but I had moved the R.H.A. batteries from Monte Petirrojo to a position near the northern ford, covering the remains of my Corps as it made for the Corunna road and safety.

It was a moral victory for the Colonel. I had managed to get some of my troops past his force - but at a terrible cost. Readers may be interested in the final muster of the respective Corps after the campaign.


BRITISH CORPS

1st Btn. 11nd Reg. of Foot: Casualties = 32% . 68% of the battalion got through
1st Btn. 55th Reg. of Foot: Casualties = 26% . 74% of the battalion got through
1st Btn. 92nd Highland Reg: Casualties = 41% . 59% of the battalion got through
1st Btn. Coldstream Guards: Entire battalion killed or captured
2 Coys. 95th (Rifle Regiment): Both companies killed or captured
3 Coys, the Royal Marines: All companies killed or captured
10th Hussars: Casualties = 24%. 76% of the regiment got through
13th Light Dragoons: Entire regiment killed or captured
The Royal Scots Greys: No casualties. Entire regiment got through
The 1st (Kings) Dragoon Guards: Casualties = 68%. 32% of the regiment got through
Royal Horse artillery: Three batteries lost. Three got through

British casualties killed, captured or seriously wounded: 54.1%


FRENCH CORPS

42nd Line Regt: Casualties = 11%
49th Line Regt: Casualties = 8%
2nd Imperial Guard: Casualties = 18%
2 Coys of Voltigeurs: Casualties = 21%
Polish Lancers: Casualties = 15%
Hussars: Casualties = 11%
Chasseurs a Cheval: Casualties = 17%
Empresses Dragoon Guards: Casualties = 24%
1st Cuirassiers: Casualties = 29%
2nd Cuirassiers: Casualties = 48%
Field Artillery: Casualties = 48%

French casualties, killed or seriously wounded: 18.3%

Strangely enough, the Colonel was rather subdued in victory and even went so far as to compliment me on getting even 43.9% of my troops through his forces. He had, he said, estimated that less than a third of my entire Corps would reach the Corunna road beyond Filomela. It was only when I saw him putting away his Heavy Cavalry that I fully understood. The Cuirassiers were the pride of his vast collection - and my Horse Artillery had wrought havoc amongst them. His Heavy Brigade had lost a third of its troopers.

We spoke of this in the Post Mortem, something which was to become a regular feature in our gaming. He snorted violently as he said: "Trouble with you is that you don't like to come to grips. Your artillery, f'r’instance, sitting up on that damn’ hill. No glory in lobbing shot from way off like that. Reduces the whole tiling to the meagreness of a damn' coconut shy!" I didn't argue. I had proved the effectiveness of those RH.A. batteries on Monte Petirrojo, at least, to my own satisfaction. It was fair enough if the Colonel tended to dismiss them and their marksmanship. He firmly maintained that the bright spark of my campaign was the Highlander's stand, just north west of the road. (GAME NOTE I had to dice for their morale no less than three times during the Heavy Brigade's onslaught. I was lucky enough to find them standing fast each throw). It was the staunchness of their square which enabled the 22nd and 55th to make their escape. As for the fighting on the eastern side, and the loss of my Coldstreamers, he had nothing but disdain. I had fallen quickly and easily into his trap - one, which he maintained, even the greenest subaltern should have foreseen - and he had been well satisfied with the results.

I was amazed to find that it was 8.30 p.m. and now that the battle was over I-felt totally exhausted! The Colonel's wife announced that dinner was almost ready and brought in decanters and glasses on a silver tray. It's been a long time since I enjoyed a scotch so much.

Over the meal we talked about the campaign and wargaming in general. His patient wife sat and smiled and said very little. It was after eleven when I finally took my leave. Although I had been well and truly thrashed in the battle, I felt strangely elated as I drove home. have many interests and some other hobbies, but I could think of none which absorbed me as completely as did wargaming. I suppose, like other aficionados, my involvement with battles and toy soldiers gave me cause to ponder. Did the hobby satisfy some deep down, subconscious lust for violence? Or, worse still, was it some vague, martial substitute for a fading masculinity? (Oh, how modern students of psychology, psychiatry and psycho-whatever would love to analyse that!) I didn't think so - and my wife assured me that she didn't think the latter was the case.

It was the Colonel who gave me the only answers that have ever really satisfied me on the subject. True, he is an old reactionary - but he still makes a lot of sense - between snorts and guffaws. "It's the era we live in," he said. "The 20th Century has gained too much momentum. No one knows how to put on the brakes. There's nothing left to discover, nothing to satisfy inherent instincts for survival, every¬thing is fabricated and we don't look for truth or beauty or naturalness anymore. No one appreciated wars that were nothing short of damn' blood-baths - but wars are getting worse all the time! There never has been an era more violent than this. And there never has been so many people getting so violent about the need for peace! You find snips of lads rioting and demonstrating all over the place, citizens rebelling against regimes, people smashing things and killing things - and everyone looking for some answer in violence. I've been a soldier most of my life - but I loathe and detest today's savagery. It scares the living daylights out of me!”

He paused for a moment to assemble his thoughts and bring the subject back to wargaming. "Wargaming isn't really a substitute for anything - not the sort of substitute the psycho-wallahs talk about. But, for a few hours each week, it does help, just a little, with some of the question marks that plague us. You'll always find an answer on the wargame table. Someone will win, someone will lose, some decision will be reached. The urge to create is satisfied, be it in the painting of a single soldier, the forming of a regiment or some pleasing feature of terrain. You've built something where nothing existed before. The colours of the uniforms and banners are aesthetically satisfying to the eye. That is, if you have an eye for form - yes, and beauty. There is a rhythm and pattern in the movement of the troops. There is a basic truth in the actual combat. If you don't depend too much on the dice, the better man will win, all things being equal. There is the absorption of delving into history - and this nearly always means discovering things - at least, discovering things that will interest you, personally. As for the fighting when your troops join battle - is it really fighting in the violent sense? Or isn't it a bit more than that? Isn't it a question of exercising your wits - mentally, rather than physically, pitting yourself against an enemy? Your senses, too. I'll wager there's not a true Wargamer who doesn't feel some twinge of sadness or remorse when he witnesses a favourite regiment suffering." I agreed with him, remembering his attitude when his Cuirassiers started' to fall. "Then there's the exhilaration that comes hard on the heels of a successful cavalry charge, or the elation when an infantry square stands fast and steady. Yes, a lot of emotions are aired at the wargame table - and most of them good ones. I don't believe that there's anything bloodthirsty in the hobby. After all, chess has been played for umpteen years - I doubt whether its enthusiasts could be accused of indulging in sadism. Most serious wargamers I've come across have invariably been gentle, thoughtful people. You see, I don't think there is anything wrong with com-petition or the competitive spirit. But then, I'm old fashioned. I subscribe to the old fashioned idea of patriotism. So many seem to think that it's a dirty word to describe a weakness these days. I love my country and I appreciate all the :good things it stands for. Yes, still stands for. I am hurt and angered by the things seem to be losing. I dislike intolerance, indifference and national laziness. On a wargame table I find a certain degree of perfection. ll my troops are valiant, all my commanders adventurous and vigorous - and all my horses thoroughbreds! It's not reality - but, by God, it's not a bad goal to strive for!"

What an enigmatical character he is! An illustrious soldier (he holds the MC and has been Mentioned in Despatches on more than a couple of occasions) who, beneath a steely crust abhors and detests mankind's perpetual need to kill, maim and destroy. A bluff, gruff, hearty man who has obviously lived his life to the brim - yet who possesses, deep, deep down, the soul of the poet and the appreciation of a lover of beautiful things.

And if he ever discovers I've written these thing about him - he'll slaughter me!



This was the last article in the series

At the Colonel's Table, Part 4: by Don Houghton, Wargamer's Newsletter 91 October 1969

The Colonel's Heavy Cavalry continued its advance southwards, down towards the western approaches of the village - and only my totally inadequate Light Dragoon Regiment, commanding the south western approaches to the bridge, could stop them from getting in amongst the main bulk of my infantry which was still in column on the Corunna road. As for his Light Cavalry Brigade, over on the east heights, they were, quite obviously, preparing to charge my Rifle and Marine skirmishers at the fords south of Filomela. And the full weight of his infantry continued its ominous, slow advance between El Gavilan and the river, north of the village. I had the feeling of being squeezed in a vice.

As it happened, it was my gunners who fired the opening salvoes of the campaign. I had eased forward my batteries on Monte Petirrojo as the Cuirassiers and Empresses Dragoon Guards advanced slowly into range. To this day I still believe this was an oversight on the Colonel's part, although afterwards he staunchly maintained that it was a chance he had to take. The gunners sighted up on his second and closest regiment of Cuirassiers and opened fire. God bless the battery commander (I made a mental note to mention his name in my next despatch to the Commander in Chief) and the sure eyes of his gunners. The fire from the three batteries cut deep holes into the Cuirassiers neatly formed ranks, even though the range wasn't all that close. Amongst the first of the casualties was the Regiment's Colonel and, for a minute, his troopers wavered (GAME NOTE: dice for Morale here when C.O. be¬comes a casualty: usual Featherstone rules apply) but the Second in Command checked them and the Regiment quickly recuperated. I was seized by an awful temptation to send my Scots Greys, guarding the batteries, charging down into that valley to finish off that particular Regiment, but I fought back the impulse. His Heavy Brigade still had a regiment of Cuirassiers and the Empresses Dragoon Guards completely untouched. No matter how valiant my Scots Greys - they could not have stood up to odds of nearly three to one, regardless of the impetus they may have gained from a downhill charge. From my R.H.A. Batteries on Monte Petirrojo the Colonel's third Cuirassier Regiment had suffered some 20% casualties.

But things weren't going at all well to the east. His guns (two batteries) had opened fire on my Marines and Riflemen skirmishing by the fords. It pinned them down, making any further northward advance impossible. And just beyond the guns his Light Cavalry Brigade was easing itself into its final position before a charge down onto the river. I brought up another gun to the fords to help repel the imminent charge of the Lancers, Hussars and Chasseurs-a-Cheval that I knew must be coming in the next move. I nudged my Guards Battalion, the one I was supposed to be keeping in reserve, slightly to the east and formed them into a square behind the skirmishers with the Dragoon Guards and a single R.H.A. Battery ready to support them. As for the main body of my infantry, I extended them along the western side of the road, ready to meet any attack from the Colonel's Heavy Brigade. For the time being there was little else I could do. My skirmishers could not move and had already suffered 10% casualties from the guns on El Gavilan.

Yet still the Colonel's Light Cavalry did not charge the southern fords. His guns continued their fire, but now my skirmishers had taken up better positions and his batteries had ceased to bother them so much. The remainder of his troops, the Heavy Brigade and the Infantry continued a slow advance.

It was at this point that the elusive picture, the one that had escaped me at luncheon, suddenly became crystal clear. I had been concentrating too much on the village and the bridge across the Golondrina. Right from the very beginning I should have ignored it as a prime target. The village and the bridge were unimportant. What I should have done was to use it as a pivot or the axle for my advance to the north east. I should have swung my troops around in a great arc and made for the northern ford, disregarding the road altogether. It would have been a slower advance, but at least I could have concentrated my troops, instead of having them strung out all over the place, as they were at this stage. It did not matter if the Colonel hooked round and took me in the rear - as long as I cleared the path in front. I was guilty of a commander's cardinal sin. I had, very early in the piece, forgotten my prime objective - that of getting the majority of my force to Corunna! Now the question loomed in my mind: was I too late to alter my whole basic plan? (GAME NOTE: orders must be written a full game move beforehand). As things stood all the Colonel had to do was to hold his extended line and maintain his front as a wall to my advance. So this is why his Light Cavalry hadn't charged down on the southern fords. All they wanted to do was to contain my skirmishers and my reserve troops. This was the trap he had set - and I had fallen into it, boots, stirrups and all! He had successfully split my force into two - the skirmishers and reserves to the left and the remainder to the right. I had virtually nothing left in the centre.

But there was a refinement to this trap - and I was going to learn about that very, very soon!

My batteries on Monte Petirrojo opened up again on that second Cuirassier regiment and scored some hits. The Regiment’s casualties mounted to 27% (GAME NOTE: Morale must again be checked when casualties reach a third of the Regiment’s s original strength). Unfortunately, this brave body of troopers was screening the other two regiments; consequently my gunners could not sight up on the rest of the Brigade. They were advancing unhindered.

(GAME NOTE: I have hinted before that the Colonel was a resourceful man and an imaginative one. One of the refinements of his game is a simulated 'smoke of battle’ factor. We play, as I have mentioned earlier, on two stripped down billiard tables: over these are suspended three Phillips wide-beam lamps. They are strung overhead, one each illuminating the opponent’s base lines: the third lamp is situated over the dead centre of the table. As the game progresses this lamp is dimmed fractionally each game move, so that by the time the campaign is at its height there is a degree of gloom over the main battle area. You can still pick out positions and formations - but identification becomes just a little more difficult. If you are not very careful, and if your concentration lags, you can find units cut off and a degree of confusion reigning).

Then, suddenly, my pulse was racing and the adrenalin started pumping into my veins. I peered at the Colonel's approaching infantry. On the eastern side of the extended line, his right flank, had closed up a little on the road. It was a battalion of Chasseurs de Montagne and it had been hugging the lower slope of El Gavilan. But now, between it and the lower slopes there developed a great gaping hole and the battalions flank was in the air! There was a breach in the wall big enough to allow my reserve formations through - and, beyond the breach, there was nothing to halt a fast advance to the Corunna road and the north east! If I was threatened at all by the enemy's infantry - I could attack it in the flank and still continue my forward move. At least I could ensure that some of my troops - including the Coldstream Battalion - might reach safety. (GAME NOTE: Points are awarded for each unit, dependant on its casualties, which achieves its objective. Similarly, the opponent receives points for every unit stopped. To these points are added the opponents total casualties. The sum is added, the victor, naturally enough, is the one scoring the most total points). Could I draft orders in time to utilise the situation to my advantage?

I reformed the Coldstreamers into a column and advanced the Marines so that they joined the Riflemen at the ford nearest the bridge. The escorting Dragoon Guards would peel off and cross the river at the southernmost ford, ready to attack any flanking Regiment of the Light Cavalry Brigade should it threaten my guardsmen. My Hussars in the southern outskirts of Filomela would move down and support the main crossing.

The Colonel grunted. I thought that was a good sign. He did not move his Light Cavalry, but his gunners up on the heights opened up with some desultory fire.

Over to the west his Cuirassiers and Dragoon Guards were forming up to charge my infantry now extended on the northern side of the road. My own gunners, up on Monte Petirrojo, had become too sure of themselves. The range on that Cuirassier Regimentwas shorter now, yet they failed to inflict more than a meagre 2% casualties. In the meantime, my Highlanders had time to form a square and thus make a bastion of them¬selves before the onslaught which I knew must be coming.

The excitement mounted. The tea the Colonel's wife had brought us lay untouched in its delicate china cups.

For a while luck seemed to be favouring me. My Dragoon Guards and Coldstreamers began crossing the river. Some casualties fell as the Colonel's gunners opened up again, but not enough to cause me any concern.

It was when the last Company of Coldstrearners, escorted by the Marines and Riflemen, cleared the ford that all hell broke loose. The Chasseurs de Montague swung round to meet the threat - they and the Voltigeurs and the Imperial Guard Battalion. It was a beautifully executed move,. The Colonel must have gauged the distance to a millimetre. The Voltigeurs and the Guards crossed swiftly over the road and swept down on my hapless Coldstreamers. There had been a token exchange of musket shot a little earlier but very few hits had registered - the enemy was almost at full strength. The Coldstreamers held and took the full impact of the charging Frenchmen - two and a half battalions to one. The Dragoon Guards hastened to help - but as they moved up the Colonel's Light Cavalry made their charge. His Lancers and Chasseurs a Cheval engaged them and forced a wedge between the Dragoons and my Coldstreamers. His remaining Light Cavalrymen, the Hussars, took my guardsmen in their left flank. I might have made a better showing if I could have brought my own Hussars into the fray - but they were still on the other side of the river, too far from the ford to cross and come to the rescue. They could only watch the awful slaughter of their countrymen. The conflict raged, with artillery batteries from both sides adding ball, canister and grapeshot into the melee. The Coldstreamers were locked in that one position. They could not retreat because of the enemy's cavalry in the rear. They could not advance because the enemy's infantry was massed in .front of them. They could not break out to the west because the river was a natural barrier, neither could they turn to the east for escape because of the Heights of El Gavilan. They could only stand and slog it out - and hope that the Dragoon Guards might break out and reach them.

And if I wasn't careful the whole sickening process might repeat itself over on the western side. For as the Colonel's Guards and Voltigeurs swung on to my Coldstreamers, his two Line Battalions rushed through Filomela and over the bridge, taking up a position in the rear of my Light Dragoon Regiment. This was the extent of his second trap. His Heavy Cavalry would charge down on my infantry whilst his Line Regiments would deliver an uppercut behind them.

I was prepared for the worst. Already my Light Dragoons were falling from musket fire delivered by the battalion of the Colonel's 42nd Regiment of the Line. They could either turn and engage the infantrymen, or sit there and take it and wait for the Heavy Cavalry charge. My 22nd moved behind the Highland square and engaged his 42nd with their muskets at maximum range. It was pretty ineffectual, but at least it diverted their attention from my luckless troopers.

Now came the final crisis of the battle. The Colonel's Heavy Cavalry made its spectacular charge. My gunners got one good volley into them as they galloped forward - and the green of the Empresses Dragoon Guards fell alongside the silver of the Cuirassiers. The Highlanders bore the brunt of the attack - and the square held!

My Light Dragoons flung themselves at the enemy cavalry's flank and my 22nd Regiment closed with the Colonel's 42nd. His 49th charged home on my 55th - and soon every single soldier on the battlefield was fighting for his life. That is - all except my Scots Greys guarding the R.H.A. batteries. They were chomping at the bit -they badly wanted to get down into the fight. But I had to hold them in reserve -they might end up by being the only ones to get to Corunna.

Over to the east, the situation was worse than grim. The Coldstreamers were a dying battalion - and my Dragoon Guards were little better off. My guns were lost and my Hussars arrived far too late to alter the course of the battle. The latter did manage to break through a line of Voltigeurs, but they could not get near enough the beleaguered Coldstreamers to be of any help. Instead they were ordered to make an attempt to escape to the Corunna road and eventually rejoin my survivors up by the French base line. But as soon as they cleared the Voltigeurs, they came under the direct fire of the Colonel's batteries on El Gavilan.

At the Colonel's Table, Part 3: by Don Houghton, Wargamer's Newsletter 90 September1969

The second campaign at the Colonel's Wargame table was to be a much more grandiose affair. This time we would fight a full scale battle - not just a Brigade skirmish, as he was pleased to put it. (Readers may recall that the 'Brigade skirmish', my first encounter with the Colonel, ended in my complete rout and the decimation, amongst other casualties, of a battalion of the 16th Regiment of Food, the Bedfordshires!). I shuddered to think what might happen to any Corps under my command under similar circumstances.

During the week, I received, by post, a most impressive map and a set of detailed instructions. The Colonel is always very interested in the 'character' of any specific battle. By this he means whether it is to be a Waterloo-type fight, an Austerlitz-type, a Peninsula-type or whatever. He then very carefully designs the terrain to meet these specifications. On this particular Sunday, we were to fight a fictitious Peninsula-type battle. However, there was a certain freedom of choice in regards to the troops involved. The Commanders could pick any units of their respective armies that fought up to the end of Waterloo. This rather confounds the purists, but does allow for more scope and imagination in planning the battle. Each Commander forms his Corps on a point system (specific point-values being allotted to various units) and he can favour a preponderance of Infantry, Cavalry or Artillery as he wishes.

Once more chance dictated that I should command the British Forces. The instructions outlined my task very clearly. It was assumed that I was engaged in a fighting retreat towards Corunna. I had to get my Corps through a valley road that led to the sea and safety. However, the Colonel's French troops had somehow managed to get round to the front of me and lay between my Corps and my destination. I had sixteen game moves to get my forces passed him.


Map detail: (as illustrated) Corunna lies to the N.E. A fairly straight road from the S.W. corner leads up to the N.E. In the centre of the fictitious battlefield there is a bridge crossing the Golondrina River. The river flows from the S.E. corner and off into a due North direction after the bridge. The Golondrina is fordable in three places, one spot north of the bridge and two south of it. The tiny hamlet of Filomela nestles about the bridge. On the western side, close to the British base line, are the lower slopes of Monte Petirrojo. To the east are the Heights of El Gavilan.

Order of Battle. We chose the following troops:

British Corps:

Two Battalions of Line Infantry (22nd and 55th of Foot).
One Highland Battalion (92nd of Foot).
One Guards Battalion (Coldstream) .
Two Companies of the 95th (Rifle Regiment) as skirmishers.
Three Companies of Royal Marines (as Light Infantry).
Two Regiments of Light Cavalry (one Hussar, one Light Dragoon) .
Two Regiments of Heavy Cavalry (Royal Scots Greys and 1st (Kings) Dragoon Guards).
Six Batteries Royal Horse Artillery.

French Corps:

Two Battalions of Line Infantry (42nd and 49th of Foot).
One Battalion of Chasseur de Montagne.
One Battalion of the Imperial Guard.
Two Companies of Voltigeurs as skirmishers.
Three Regiments of Light Cavalry (Polish Lancers, Hussars and Chasseurs a Cheval).
Three Regiments of Heavy Cavalry (Two of Cuirassiers and one of the Empresses Dragoon Guards).
Three Batteries of Field Artillery.

It is immediately apparent that the Colonel favoured his Cavalry arm, whilst I, remembering the disastrous effects of his Artillery in the last campaign, leaned to¬wards the guns. But in my dash to the north east I wanted to be able to move them quickly, so I chose Horse Artillery. When I first saw his Order of Battle I congratulated myself on having no less than six batteries, bearing in mind his awesome display of cavalry. Perhaps I could cut them down before they got in amongst my infantry. Perhaps....

I arrived at the Colonel's home at about eleven in the morning. Politely, but very definitely, I refused his offer of a stiff whisky before we crossed swords. I wanted my head clear and my wits sharp this time. The Colonel was in a rare good humour. He guffawed with monotonous regularity and kept on slapping his thigh with the palm of his hand, as though thumping a cavalry boot with a horse-whip. I took that as a hint. I was going to watch his Cuirassiers with an eagle eye.

The table was a joy to behold. He must have spent nearly the whole week setting 5 up the terrain. The village of Filomela looked tranquil and peaceful as it slumbered .: innocently beside the Golondrina River. The two main heights, El Gavilan and Monte Petirrojo, on either side of the road were massive and brooding. (Students of the Spanish Language will have noticed that the Colonel named all the physical features after species of birds - a strange choice for this hell-fire-and-shrapnel character, I thought). All too soon this gentle panorama would be swarming with men locked in mortal combat - in some ways it was a great pity. In his own way the Colonel was a great artist and builder, odd, therefore, that he should have spent most of his professional career either in battle or preparing for battle.

This time I had brought my own troops and he inspected each unit as I brought it out of my travelling case. He thought they were, in the main, a pretty mouldy lot (and indeed they were, in comparison to his beautifully detailed and painted figures) but he did pass a grudging compliment on my Guards and Highlanders. I only hoped they would do their uniforms justice when it came to the crunch!

His troops were already deployed behind his base line. Mine would appear from the south, the entire Corps arriving during the course of three moves.

The campaign began at twelve noon on the dot. The guffaws and the thigh slapping stopped - but the Colonel did give out with a snort when I won the toss. So to battle.

1 scanned the slopes of Monte Petirrojo and decided to locate no less than three of my six batteries there. Consequently the first of my troops to arrive was the R.H.A., escorted by the Scots Greys. Next I sent my Light Cavalry Brigade full pelt N.E. along the Corunna road, bound for Filomela and the bridge. I badly wanted to secure that position as early as possible. My Riflemen and Marines advanced fairly slowly along the western bank of the river, anxious to command the first fordable area of the river south of the bridge.

For his first move the Colonel seemed to ignore his infantry completely. He sent his Light Cavalry Brigade towards the Heights of El Gavilan. His Heavy Brigade, and I suspect, the pride of his army, he sent immediately to the river bank north west of Filomela and close to the fordable area north of .the bridge. Obviously it was the flanks of my approaching Corps he wanted to threaten. One solitary battery of his artillery followed slowly behind the Light Brigade on to the Heights.

My batteries on Monte Petirrojo began to get into position. I placed them so that they could command the village and its bridge and also cover the northerly threat from the Colonel's Heavy Brigade. The Scots Greys formed up behind the artillery and would remain there to guard the guns in case Monte Petirrojo was assaulted by infantry or cavalry. The downward slope would give them good impetus if they had to charge. I brought up another two batteries to cover the southernmost fordable strip of the river and they took up position behind the Riflemen and Marines. Next I brought in my Guards Battalion, The Coldstreamers would take up a position in the centre of the field just north of my base line and form my main reserve, supported by the 1st Dragoon Guards. In the meantime, my Hussars and Light Dragoons were approaching Filomela rapidly. As for the bulk of my infantry, they would appear in the next move, Highlanders in the van, from the south west along the Corunna road.

I stood back from the table and was well satisfied with my dispositions. But then the Colonel smiled and I had a horrible feeling, in the pit of my stomach, that I was marching into some sort of trap. For the life of me I couldn't yet see what it was.

His Heavy Brigade continued its advance and crossed the river at the northern fordable strip. His Light Brigade gained the Heights of El Gavilan and yet another artillery battery joined them up there. From their position on the slope his Lancers, Hussars and Chasseurs a Cheval were already threatening my own R.H.A. battery, the 6 Riflemen and the Marine skirmishers.

And now came his infantry, uniforms a blaze of colour, eagles glittering in the morning sunlight. They approached in a long, extended line their right flank resting on the lower slopes of El Gavilan and their left hugging the eastern bank of the river. They made a fine and impressive sight. They were, also, an almost impregnable wall laying across the road that would lead me to Corunnal Slowly they moved on to¬wards Filomela - and the first of my forces they would balk would be the.Light Cavalry Brigade attempting to secure the village and the bridge. How the hell could my Hussars and Light Dragoons make any sort of impact on the Colonel's infantry with mass of village houses blocking any chance of a charge? And, anyway, I had nothing at all to support my cavalry. My own infantry was far too far back to help them. Only the Coldstreamers, whom I had hoped to keep in reserve, had any chance of reaching them. So I deployed my Hussars on the left hand side of the road and my Light Dragoons on the right to the south of the village outskirts. For a while there was no chance at all of me securing Filomela.

The Colonel's Cuirassiers wheeled and began to advance due southward. I could see his plan now, with awful, crystal clarity. The mass of his infantry would bear down on me from the centre whilst his two cavalry arms would deliver a right and left hook from the flanks.

And then.... the Colonel's wife asked if we might call a truce for an hour. It was lunchtime - and so great had been our concentration that we hadn't even heard her come into the room. Reluctantly we had to leave the table. Up to this point not a single shot had been exchanged.

I remember I didn't talk very much over that excellent lunch. There was some¬thing nagging at my mind, something about that battlefield and the situation it presented. It was some elusive point that just refused, for the moment, to materialise. The Colonel, too, was a little less exuberant than he had been half an hour ago. Both our thoughts were concentrated on the forces soon to join in battle. The Colonel's wife, sensitive to all moods, remained the quiet and gentle hostess. We had, I recall, a bottle of cold Chablis with the meal - but by the time the cheese came round there was still a good third of the bottle left untouched.

So we went back to the table. I won't bother too much about describing the respective moves in detail. Instead I shall give an outline of the battle as it progressed.

New Posts

After a decent interval, I have posted up the second parts of three series: Neil Cogswell's Bombar Succession, Don Houghton's At the Colonel's Table, and Harold Gerry's French Invasion of 1810. For general interest I have added a brief profile of Terry Wise and an account of Joe Morschauser's visit to Southampton in 1964.

At the Colonel's Table, Part 2: by Don Houghton, Wargamer's Newsletter 89 July 1969

I remember the meal very well. It was the first of many memorable dinners. We started with a lobster salad (and white wine), followed this with roast beef and all the trimmings (with burgundy) and then on to a good Stilton cheese (with claret) and ended with coffee (and a couple of balloons of brandy). Now, I could be mistaken, but I rather thought the Colonel took a little too much interest in the state of my wine glass. It seemed to me that it was perpetually being filled up! I was, I suppose, an unknown factor to him at the wargame table - and he may not have been taking any chances.

By nine we were ready to move into the War Room - at least, the Colonel was. I think I floated in on a haze of good grape juice. But I had digested not only his food - but also his Wargame Rules. Late though it was I wanted to take up my Command. I felt, just then, as though I could have routed the Emperor Napoleon's Army with a single staunch English Battalion!

Prior to dinner he had outlined an Order of Battle for a 'short' game. The opposing sides would be numerically even. They would consist of two battalions of infantry of the line, two companies of skirmishers, one battalion of Guards, one Regiment of Heavy Cavalry and three batteries of Field artillery - all in prepared positions. We spun a coin - and this decided I would command the British. (GAME NOTE: This, I might point out, was the Colonel's idea of a short game. We play nine or ten men, plus an officer, to a tray and this represents a Company - not a Battal­ion! It makes for an interesting game - but never a short one!)

I was, needlessly to say, soundly thrashed. I opened up with a line of skirmish­ers, followed by a battalion of line infantry, advancing beside a road which led almost directly to his Command position. They moved forward supported by a short artillery barrage and with a Regiment of Scots Greys close behind, the Colonel feinted with a desultory counter by one of his own line infantry battalions - then quietly withdrew. I continued to advance confidently. I remember thinking that the old boy was one of those 'theory only' commanders - it was, perhaps, a different thing putting his theories into practice...

Then it happened. My fine Scots Greys were caught in enfilading artillery fire from both flanks, behind the infantry. This left an awesome gap behind my advance - a gap soon filled by exultant Cuirassiers, which he had split into two squadrons, and who came at me, seemingly, from nowhere. I couldn't disperse them with artillery, because, by then, they were already engaging my rear ranks - and my own troops pre­sented a much better target to my gunners than did his wretched cavalrymen! The only way 1 could retreat from this attack was - forward. And that shut tight the trap. My one battalion of line infantry and their two companies of skirmishers were set upon by his Guards Battalion, his cavalry and his original battalion of line infantry - the latter had merely about face and joined the Guards in the massacre. I'd had no time to form a square to hold off the Cuirassiers - I was badly extended in front to meet the infantry attack - my artillery was worse than useless - I was, in fact, in one hell of a mess. Of course, I brought up everything to try and rescue my ad­vance troops - and brought them up far too quickly. He delivered a startling left hook with his now disengaged cavalry, joined by his reserve infantry battalion and fully supported by his deadly accurate artillery, now firing canister at witheringly short range. It was a horrible sight. It was a tragic sight. I draw a veil over the rest of the battle. My casualties amounted to a staggering 62% - the Colonel had sustained a mere 11%. My advance battalion had been reduced to about Company strength. My Scots Greys - would never forgive me - they hadn't even closed with the enemy, yet his artillery had cut down their numbers by nearly 50%. As for my gunners - they had fired a sum total of only three rounds per gun! Then, to add to my misery, I discov­ered that the advance battalion - the one that got itself decimated so early in the piece - was identified as the 16th Regiment of Foot - the Bedfordshire Regiment. I fully expected black flags of mourning to be hanging from every window of every house in my village when I returned.

It was after midnight when the stragglers from my routed battalions finally made it back to their base line. I was utterly exhausted - the Colonel was in a fine mood, his eyes twinkling with happiness and jubilation. His wife brought in two enormous mugs of steaming, creamy cocoa whilst the post mortem was delivered. It was after two a.m. before I was allowed to get into my car and drive wearily home. Resting in the glove locker was the tiny fictitious Dragoon - the reason behind the whole incredible evening.

But it wasn't going to end there. The Colonel had maintained that there was some hope for me as a commander. The deceased major, his old opponent, he pointed out, had suffered much more severely than I had in their first engagement. Within the first three moves, the Colonel said, his artillery had been completely overrun - at least I'd got my gunners back safely. I didn't mention that they were about all I'd got back in safety. Anyway, he said we would meet again next Sunday - but that I was to arrive early, so that we might have a 'decent tussle' - on a Divisional basis. Furthermore, I could bring my own troops. He added that perhaps I might feel more at home with Regiments I knew and had led before. As it happened I, too, had a battal­ion of the 16th - but I made a mental note to leave them safely behind when next the Colonel and I crossed swords over his War table!

Two new series: At the Colonel's Table, and the War of the Bombar Succession

Two of the most-remembered and best loved series of articles in the Wargamer's Newsletter were Don Houghton's At the Colonel's Table and Neil Cogswell's War of the Bombar Succession.

The first article from each series has been posted below, and I will complete these series over the next weeks.

Because the quality of the original typescript for some of these articles is not wonderful, I have scanned them for optical character recognition and then imported the text into the posts. I have taken the opportunity to make some very slight amendments where this has clarified the sense. The text of posts in blogger don't have extensive formatting options but I have done my best to keep things readable.

At the Colonel's Table, Part 1: by Don Houghton, Wargamer's Newsletter 81 December 1968

(The author of this amusing piece is connected with a well-known Commercial T.V. series in Great Britain. He has promised to let further gems fall our way so that "At the Colonel's Table" is going to run as a regular feature for a while).

Like so many other serious addicts, I became a wargame enthusiast fairly late in life. Of course, 'things military’ had always fascinated me - the pomp and colour of ancient armies, the enthralling theories surrounding tactics and strategy, these had always commanded my deepest interest. And, again like so many others, I had the facetious knowledge, bordering on the absolute certainty, that if only the War Office had contacted me early in the Second World War I could have routed our enemies in a matter of weeks. This would have been achieved by a series of brilliantly conceived manoeuvres designed to strike utter fear into the Nazis, the Japanese, the Italians and any other foe who might dare to challenge our arms. It was all perfectly splen­did in theory. In the field it would have been total disaster. I have subsequently proved this by putting those theories into practice on the wargame table. I am probably one of the unluckiest Wargamers who ever rolled a dice.

Anyway, my introduction to bargaining began when I bought an Avalon Hill game asa present for a young nephew. I made the terrible mistake of opening the box tocheck its contents and make sure the game was suitable for him. He never did get hishands on it. I bought him a racing car construction kit instead. The game subse­quently became the first occupant of my Wargames Room, a room now overflowing with militaria of all sorts. The next stage of my addiction I blame entirely on DonaldFeatherstone - and his habit-forming book, 'Wargames'. I might have been able to resist the Avalon Hill temptation - but the book was my downfall.After reading it
once I was hopelessly hooked.

So I began to build up a collection of miniature armies. I think my name is emblazoned over the moulds of Neville Dickinson of Miniature Figurines. Evenings which should have been spent working on urgent television scripts (I'm a scriptwriter by profession) were eaten away painting 20mm high warriors and soldiers. Days were spent touring model and toyshops searching out tins of paint and new sets of Airfix figures. As for the latter, God only knows what will happen to my bank account if they ever do issue Napoleonic sets!

Finally the day arrived when I could field a fairly respectable army. I had what I thought were some pretty splendid brigades of infantry and cavalry, enough batteries of artillery to strike real fear into the heart of any opponent, plus waggon trains of supplies, some reserves and enough replacements to keep a battle going indefinitely.

Because I am a Writer and therefore supposed to be a Romantic (this is an utter fallacy, ' of course) the majority of my troops were Napo­leonic. Nevertheless, I also had a secret hoard of ACW and WW I regiments hidden away for opponents who might specialise in those specific wars.

But opponents were something of a problem. Where on earth was I going to find them? As readers very well know, finding a compatible Wargame opponent is rather like searching for the ideal wife. I mean, after all, you've got to live with these people most weekends, haven't you? Ideally they should be spiced with a love of adventure, possess a modi­cum of dash and elan, be sweetly reasonable (especially when arguing the finer pointsof some rule), and never, never be infallible (there's nothing more boring than anopponent who has a counter to your every move). I live in a small Bedfordshirevillage - and I very much doubted if any of the local farmers wanted to mess aboutwith the Imperial Guard or the 11th Hussars after a hard days grind in the cowshed.

And so it came about that I met the Colonel. (Readers, I hope, will forgive me if I refrain from using his name. He is a man who jealously guards his privacy.) I had just bought a batch of fully painted, second hand cavalrymen from one of the 'Newsletter's' advertisers. Amongst them there were a dozen Light Dragoon-type troopers whose uniforms I couldn't identify. I phoned through to several military historians and experts - but no one could help me. Finally, a Regimental Librarian gave me the Colonel's phone number. He said there was very little the Colonel didn't know about Napoleonic uniforms - or any military uniforms, come to that. As it happened his home was in Northamptonshire - not all that far from my own. I rang through and told him my problem. His voice was gruff and formidable - and it scared the living daylights out of me. He gave me his address, told me to come around to his place at teatime the following Sunday - and to bring the cavalryman with me. It wasn't really an invitation - it was more of an order.

So I went, clutching the unfortunate lead Dragoon tightly in my hot little hand. The Colonel's house was a delightful place, a period home set amongst rolling lawns and roses. As for the Colonel's wife, she was a kind, petite and gentle lady. Her voice was as soft and lyrical - as the Colonel's was hard and militant. I was usher­ed into the 'War Room'. Here two formidable billiard tables had been stripped down, placed side by side, and upon them was arrayed the finest battle terrain I had yet seen. There were hills, rivers, villages, swamps, forests - the lot. And all in meticulous detail. Deployed over this countryside were two opposing armies - the redcoats of the British facing the blue uniformed French of Napoleon's guards. Scow­ling above them was the Colonel, a tall, lean seventy year old. He was busy organis­ing the charge of a regiment of Cuirassiers into a British square. I waited till the last of the troop trays had been placed in position. He stood back and surveyed the coming slaughter. "Damn1 fools," he grunted. "They should have softened up the square with some artillery before committing themselves to a charge." He shrugged. "The square will hold. Bloody good regiment in a tight spot," he added. Then he looked at me. He growled an introduction and said: "Where's that Dragoon?" I handed him the offending cavalryman. He took a magnifying glass from a small bench behind him and studied the tiny figure. I stood at ease - and waited, stealing a glance now and again at the wonderful battlefield.

The Colonel straightened up and handed me back the Dragoon. "No such animal," he snorted. "Fictitious uniform. And bloody badly painted, too. Damn' chocolate soldier." (He was quite right, I learnt later. The man I'd bought the Dragoons from admitted that the troop had got into my package by mistake. It was part of the cavalry of a fictitious European state he had created some time ago.) The Colonel pointed to his table. "You indulge in this?" He asked. I admitted I did. Then the Colonel smiled. He went to a cabinet under the bench, took a whisky bottle and two glasses from it, poured a couple of liberal tots - and I was in.

I discovered that some two or three months previously the Colonel's Wargame opponent had died. He'd been a retired Major and, at some stage, had served in the Colonel's battalion in Ceylon. Now the Colonel was without a permanent opponent - and here I'd walked in, out of the blue, like a sheep to the slaughter. But I was a willing sheep right from the start. And the slaughter was always relatively painless - physically.

For the next three hours he delivered a detailed dissertation on the theory and practice of Wargaming. He went over every facet of strategy and tactics, as applied to the battlefield. He explained his rules (which he said were his own invention, although I'm certain they are, nonetheless, modified Featherstone rules) and hammered me with facts and figures. By then it was seven thirty - and I was invited to dine with him. I might add that his wife had already anticipated this. In the elegant dining room the table was laid for three. After we had eaten, the Colonel said, we would play out a small brigade skirmish.

TO BE CONTINUED

TV and the Crimean War, by Don Houghton: Wargamer's Newsletter #95 February 1970

I have just finished scripting a children’s T.V. series called 'The Flaxton Boys' for Yorkshire Television. By the time this gets into print the show will be running on all stations. It may be of some interest to Newsletter readers because the setting is the Crimean War period. Of course, being a keen devotee myself I lost no opportunity to feature as many uniforms of the times as I could. Unfortunately we discovered that the dress and uniform hire people had very little to offer us in re¬gards to Crimean uniforms. It seemed that the wardrobe people were continually being offered vague 'chocolate-soldier' stuff which, it must be admitted, looked very colourful, but had absolutely no basis in fact whatsoever. I had strange nightmares in which I saw puce and orange hussars charging lines of sky-blue infantrymen.

However, being a wargamer has its advantages. I rang through to Donald Featherstone with the problem - and he immediately put me in touch with John and Boris Mollo and their Historical Research Unit. I should imagine that these two specialists, whose names must be known to all military enthusiasts, are the final authorities on the Crimean period. Anyway, John lost no time in coming to our aid. Evidently, des¬pite the popularity of the film 'The Charge of the Light Brigade' (and John Mollo was responsible for the uniform detail in that), it seemed there is an acute shortage of Crimean militaria in this country. But he immediately put some cavalry uniforms at Yorkshire Television's disposal and their wardrobe people were able to use these and also make some copies from them. Readers may, when they see various episodes of the show, criticise and pick out erroneous detail in the uniforms used - but I hasten to assure them that this is not John Mollo’s fault. He could not be on hand for the filming and without him being there some mistakes were bound to slip through - but without his invaluable help I doubt very doubt whether we would have been able to re¬present the 11th Hussars and the 17th Lancers, etc., in any of their glory.

I got help also from René North (another name readers will, or should, know) who went out of his way to send me uniform sketches at very short notice. On several occasions I had to ring up René at odd hours, relay the uniform detail I needed - and then, almost next day, I always found that the sketches were to hand.

I also wrote in a couple of scenes featuring lead soldiers (54 mm figures) - and viewers with eagle eyes might just be able to recognise their creators. I gave the Producer the name of two or three Makers and it will be interesting to try and identi¬fy the ones he chose.

You might also be interested in Episode 5 of the show, entitled 'The Bridge'. Here the Producer has used a troop of the Royal Horse Artillery in the story. I defy anyone to criticise their uniforms, however. They are members of the Queen's Troop, E.H.A. - and their uniforms and equipment are absolutely correct down to the very last detail.

I regret that there are no scenes of the Crimean battlefields - the stories are set in Yorkshire - but I believe we may have captured the atmosphere of the time.

Although we would not even have done that if it had not been for the good offices of the Newsletter - and our closely knit little community of wargamers, military en¬thusiasts and specialists. May I, therefore, take this opportunity of thanking Donald Featherstone, John and Boris Mollo, René North and the others who made my job just that much easier - and that much more enjoyable.


Don Houghton wrote the fondly remembered “At the Colonel’s Table” series of articles in Wargamer’s Newsletter – the complete series will be posted here in the coming months.

IMdB (the Internet Movie Database) shows Don’s work including the Flaxton Boys, Dr Who – the Mind of Evil, New Scotland Yard, Sapphire and Steel, The Doombolt Chase, and (whisper this quietly) is credited as the creator of Take the High Road.