Infantry Supporting Fire Exposed

When a French attack column crashes into a defended line on the wargaming table, few mechanics trigger more heated debates than supporting fire from adjacent friendly units. While 18th-century military doctrine explicitly built defensive formations around mutual support, historical evidence and period mechanics show that static infantry could only deliver a tiny fraction of their full firepower to aid a neighbor.

Period tactical manuals, clearly demonstrate that no unit was ever meant to fight in isolation. Defensive arrays relied heavily on interlocking fields of fire. For instance, hollow infantry squares deployed in a checkerboard pattern (échiquier) spaced 100 to 120 paces apart created lethal crossfires against charging cavalry, a layout that proved crucial along the Mont-Saint-Jean ridge at Waterloo. Similarly, line infantry relied on enfilade fire (tir d'enfilade) to catch attacking column flanks in a funnel of crossfire, a tactic Arthur Wellesley famously deployed at the Battle of Talavera in 1809.

Despite the foundational doctrine of secours mutuel, static infantry in a shoulder-to-shoulder line faced extreme physical constraints that prevented them from bringing anywhere near full firepower onto a target charging an adjacent unit. Standing two or three ranks deep with men spaced just 21 to 24 inches apart, soldiers could physically swing their musket barrels only 15 to 20 degrees to either side without endangering the comrade next to them. Consequently, an adjacent static regiment could bring only 10 to 20 percent of its total musketry to bear, as only the few platoons on the immediate inside flank held a clear line of sight. Furthermore, as the charging column closed within 50 yards of the target unit, the firing angle for neighboring static troops became so acute that continuing to shoot risked hitting their own allies in the side, dropping static supporting effectiveness to zero at the moment of impact.

To deliver significant supporting fire, adjacent infantry had to physically maneuver by wheeling their end companies inward to form a concave bracket or L-shaped trap. This maneuver could raise firepower effectiveness to 30 to 50 percent or higher, but it required strict drill discipline under dense black powder smoke and left the wheeling unit's outer flank completely exposed to secondary attacks.

Artillery operated under entirely different physical rules. Guns were spaced six to ten yards apart to allow crew movement and pivoted on a single axle. A gun crew could easily traverse a cannon carriage 30 to 40 degrees in seconds without altering the unit's overall formation alignment. This mobility allowed adjacent batteries to routinely deliver 60 to 100 percent of their full firepower across a neighbor's front. At ranges over 300 yards, batteries poured solid roundshot down the flanks of advancing columns. As the target closed within 300 yards, gunners loaded devastating canister shot, switching to double-canister under 50 yards to sweep away entire ranks in a single blast.

Commercial wargame designers heavily reflect these historical realities across popular rulesets. Systems such as General d'Armée, Field of Glory: Napoleonic, and Bataille Empire penalize static adjacent infantry fire by roughly 50 percent through arc and dice-pool modifiers, while keeping flank artillery canister fire at full lethality. Black Powder caps all closing fire to a single die per unit, limiting supporting infantry to roughly 33 percent effectiveness. Empire V and VI restrict fire strictly to the physical figures falling inside a narrow 45-degree cone, while Lasalle abstracts the process entirely by forcing players to spend command momentum on Interrupt actions rather than granting free charge support.

When our umpire umpire steped in, it was to correct a mistake of his own making in his home brew rules. His mid game correction capped defensive fire of static neighboring infantry during a charge, and history it seems, was firmly on his side. Period commanders actively relied on mutual support, but allowing static infantry to pour full firepower into an adjacent combat ignores the geometric realities of linear musketry. To achieve high-potency supporting fire on the battlefield, a commander either had to maneuver their companies into an angled position ahead of time or anchor the line with a dedicated battery of artillery loaded with canister.

How to Start a Tabletop Wargaming YouTube Channel on a Budget

Thinking about turning your passion for tabletop historical wargaming into a YouTube channel? Whether you want to share battle reports, review rulebooks, or showcase your painted regiments, starting a channel is one of the best ways to connect with fellow hobbyists worldwide. I have had opportunities, experiences and connections that simply wouldn't have happened if I hadn't decided to put my passion for the hobby on YouTube. In my latest video, I break down the practical equipment, channel strategies, and essential lessons learned from six years of building a wargaming community.

Here is a summary of the core strategies you need to launch your channel without blowing your miniature budget.

1. Define Your Channel's Purpose First

Before spending a single penny on tech gear, take a step back and define what you want to achieve. Having clear boundaries stops you from wasting money on unnecessary studio equipment:

• Establish a Format: Decide on concise topics (such as 10-to-15-minute discussions) or longer-form content like full battle reports.

• Focus on Community: Aim to foster genuine discussion with viewers rather than aiming for overly slick commercial production value.

2. Camera & Mounting Equipment

You do not need a multi-hundred-pound vlogging camera to make your first video. Most modern smartphones take excellent HD video, which is more than enough to test the waters. However, stable footage is mandatory:

• Standard Tripods: A basic, lightweight tripod works perfectly for fixed-position sit-down videos.

• Boom Arms & Heavy Tripods: Essential for positioning a camera directly over a wargaming table for battle reports without getting in the way of dice rolls.

• Desk Arms & Monopods: Articulated desk arms keep your hands free over the painting bench, while monopods provide instant stability when filming at crowded wargaming shows.

3. Audio & Acoustic Considerations

Bad video is tolerable, but bad audio will drive viewers away faster than anything else. Built-in phone and camera microphones struggle with room echo and ambient noise.

• Microphones: Invest in a decent external lavalier or camera-mounted microphone once you know you are committed to the channel.

• Room Acoustics: Voice reverberation off hard walls ruins sound clarity. Add soft furnishings like rugs, heavy curtains, or acoustic panels to deaden room echo.

4. Lighting & Video Editing

Consistent lighting is critical for miniature photography and video. Natural window light shifts constantly due to cloud cover, ruining visual continuity.

• Softbox Lighting: A single, inexpensive photography softbox light provides soft, even illumination for both video recording and painting bench work.

• Editing Software: Start with free or low-cost editors built into your phone or PC (like Windows Video Editor or mobile apps) before upgrading to subscription suites like CapCut as your editing skills develop.

Building a wargaming YouTube channel is a journey of continuous learning. Focus on clear sound, steady footage, and engaging discussions—and let your gear evolve naturally as your community grows!

A Day With Wargaming Legends

I recently had the privilege of spending a day in Brighton with Henry Hyde, playing an Imaginations wargame in the famous Loftwaffe. The game itself was memorable, but what made the day particularly special was the opportunity to play with some genuine pieces of wargaming history. You can watch the full story in the accompanying video, but there is plenty here to explore if you’re interested in the history of our hobby, vintage miniatures and the way old school wargaming continues to influence what we do today.

I’ve known Henry for several years, mainly through encounters at shows such as Salute and Partizan, along with an appearance on his Battlechat podcast. This visit gave us considerably more time to talk about the hobby, alongside a game using Henry’s own Shot, Steel & Stone rules. The rules were originally introduced in The Wargaming Compendium before being developed into a standalone system. Designed for the horse and musket period, they are deliberately flexible regarding miniature scale and basing, while placing considerable emphasis on command, control and battlefield friction.

For me, the real highlight was the miniatures themselves. Henry has a remarkable collection of figures and books, including miniatures that once belonged to influential pioneers of the hobby. Among them are Spencer Smith 30mm plastic eighteenth century figures, including the famous Ostergotland Regiment associated with Charles Grant. What makes these figures particularly fascinating is their history. They date from the early decades of modern miniature wargaming with the Ostergotland Regiment appearing in Charles Grant’s seminal 1971 book, The War Game.

Spencer Smith figures were designed to be simple, elegant and easy to mass on the tabletop. Their proportions give large regiments a wonderfully old school appearance. Henry's collection is partly painted by him, and partly origional regiments that belonged to hobby Legends like Grant and Asquith. Rather than being preserved as museum pieces, Henry has restored these older miniatures and continues to use them in games. And for me there was something genuinely special about seeing figures with that kind of history being used for their original purpose. They weren’t simply objects from the past. They were still wargaming.

The game formed part of Henry’s long-running Imaginations campaign. I commanded the Grenouisse army, pursuing the retreating forces of Borgenmark after the Bataille des Deux Fermes. My task wasn’t to destroy the enemy outright but to harass the retreating column and delay its progress towards the defensive positions around Vustœr. My light cavalry proved effective at disrupting the Borg advance, forcing enemy units to halt and face the threat.

There was, however, a price to pay. Light cavalry are not particularly well suited to taking on disciplined eighteenth century infantry, and several of my cavalry regiments were forced to withdraw. Fortunately, my Casseurs de Pied and their supporting light gun performed extremely well, helping to destroy two Borg cavalry regiments. Whether I had delayed the enemy sufficiently for the main Grenouissian army to catch up remains to be seen.

That, of course, is the beauty of a campaign like this. The story continues beyond a single game, with the consequences of one battle influencing the next. For me, though, the real victory was simply being there. Playing a wargame with miniatures that have survived for decades and formed part of the history of our hobby was a privilege I won’t forget in a hurry.

Stop Rules Disputes Killing Your Game

Nothing kills the excitement of a tabletop battle quite like a lengthy rules argument. In my latest video, I explore some practical ways that historical wargamers can resolve disagreements quickly while keeping the game enjoyable. If you haven't watched it yet, you can find the full video below, but I wanted to expand on some of the ideas here because rules disputes are something I expect almost every wargamer has encountered at some point.

Every ruleset has grey areas. No matter how carefully a game has been written, unusual situations will eventually arise where two players interpret the same rule differently. Sometimes it's something as simple as whether a unit can see another unit through a particular piece of terrain, while at other times it might involve charge distances, cover, movement or some obscure interaction between two different rules. It can happen with virtually any ruleset, because no rulebook can anticipate every possible situation that two imaginative wargamers might create on a tabletop.

Where it becomes particularly frustrating is during a friendly game where the objective is simply to have an enjoyable afternoon with friends. Most of us aren't sitting down around the table because there's a trophy at stake or because we're desperately trying to climb a tournament ranking. We're there to play with our miniatures, enjoy the history, tell a story and spend time with other people who share the same hobby. When a fifteen minute argument develops over whether a regiment is half an inch inside or outside a particular boundary, that social experience can disappear remarkably quickly.

One way of dealing with these situations is to agree before the game that the Rule of Cool has a place in your gaming. Rather than automatically choosing the interpretation that provides the greatest tactical advantage, players can agree to favour the outcome that creates the most exciting, dramatic or historically satisfying moment. Imagine a cavalry unit charging an enemy whose flank is exposed by the tiniest of margins. You could spend several minutes measuring every angle and debating the wording of the rules, or you could simply decide that the cavalry has caught them in a dramatic charge and see what happens. The important thing isn't that one player has gained an advantage. It's that you've created a memorable moment that everyone can enjoy.

Another option is to involve an impartial third party. If another club member, game organiser or spectator is nearby, explain the situation to them and ask for a ruling. The key is agreeing beforehand that whatever decision they make will be accepted without further debate. This can be particularly useful because sometimes two players become so invested in their own interpretation that neither can see a way out of the disagreement. An outside opinion can break that deadlock almost instantly.

For situations where there simply isn't time to find an answer, there's always the dice off. Roll a die, decide which result corresponds to which interpretation and carry on playing. You can always look up the correct answer after the game. It might sound rather arbitrary, but if the alternative is spending twenty minutes searching through a rulebook while everyone else waits, a thirty second temporary solution can be far more valuable. The same principle applies to what I think of as the sanity check. If the rules technically allow something that makes absolutely no sense within the historical setting, perhaps common sense should take precedence. If a smoothbore musket can somehow fire through the corner of a solid brick building or target a unit through dense woodland because of an unintended interaction between rules, most historical gamers would probably recognise that something has gone wrong.

Another useful principle is giving the benefit of the doubt to the defender or the non active player when a situation is genuinely too close to call. If you're arguing over a charge distance that is right on the limit, or whether a unit is fully protected by cover, having a pre agreed convention can prevent the discussion from becoming personal. Similarly, there are situations where splitting the difference makes more sense than choosing between two extreme interpretations. If nobody can agree whether a hedge provides full cover or no cover at all, perhaps treat it as light cover for that particular turn and carry on. It isn't necessarily the perfect answer, but it is a fair compromise that keeps the battle moving.

One of the approaches I particularly like is making a temporary ruling and noting the question down for later. Instead of stopping the game to search through FAQs, forums and old posts from the rules designer, write down the problem and carry on. Once the game has finished, you can investigate it properly and establish what the rules actually say. If the official answer still isn't clear, your group can agree on a house rule for future games. Over time, these little decisions can become part of the shared understanding within a gaming group and prevent the same disagreement from occurring repeatedly.

Ultimately, all of these approaches come back to one simple principle: the flow of the game matters more than the exact ruling. That's not an argument for ignoring rules or allowing one player to take advantage of another. It's about recognising the difference between a genuinely important rules issue and a minor ambiguity that doesn't deserve to bring an entire game to a halt. A quick decision made in good faith keeps everyone engaged, whereas a prolonged argument can destroy the atmosphere for everyone around the table.

For me, this is particularly important because historical wargaming is about much more than rules. It's about history, miniatures, painting, terrain, modelling, storytelling and, perhaps most importantly, spending time with other people. The rules provide the framework that allows the game to happen, but they shouldn't become more important than the people sitting around the table. Some players will naturally prefer a very strict interpretation of the rules, while others will be much more comfortable with a flexible, narrative approach. Neither is necessarily wrong. The important thing is that everyone understands what sort of game they're sitting down to play.

Every club and gaming group will inevitably develop its own culture and its own way of dealing with disagreements. Some will prefer an umpire, others may use dice, while some groups will simply make a ruling and look it up afterwards. What matters is finding something that works for your group and, ideally, agreeing on the approach before the inevitable rules question appears. Because let's face it, the rules question is coming. It always does. Somewhere on that beautifully prepared tabletop, surrounded by lovingly painted miniatures and carefully constructed terrain, there is a tiny ambiguity waiting to derail the battle. The trick isn't eliminating those moments because that's probably impossible. The trick is making sure they remain moments rather than turning into twenty minute arguments.

So how does your gaming group deal with rules disputes? Do you have a house rule, an umpire or perhaps a completely different method for breaking a deadlock? Have you ever used a dice roll to settle an argument, or do you prefer to make a temporary ruling and check the rules afterwards? I'd love to hear about your experiences and the approaches that have worked for you, because some of the best solutions to these little problems come from the wargaming community itself.