Mrs Fanshaw’s hat

I’m spending way too much time doomscrolling at the moment and sadly this has induced the grey chicken of despair to resume pecking away at the old noggin. As a counter to this I’ve resolved to severely curtail my screen usage via phone TV, iPad etc, which is probably a bit radical, but if it reduces my exposure to a very crazy outside world it will no doubt prove helpful. In accordance with this initiative I’ve turned off comments on the blog for now lest your witty observations lure me back to the demon screen in one form or another. Again we’ll see how that works out. 

So let’s get back to wargaming which is after all what you came here for. 

The first game to be played with my new Indian mutiny toys is about to start, and since it is a small affair that does not lend itself well to The Men Who Would be Kings, I will be using a set of Victorian themed skirmish rules originally intended for the Steampunk genre. 

So it’s the 10th of May 1857 and we are near the made up town of Jullundpur which is half way between the real life towns of Lucknow and Cawnpore. 

Jullundpur is a no account market town sitting astride the last navigable portion of the Gumti river. To the east of the town is the barracks of the East India Company’s 28th Native Infantry Regiment and to the west of the town a walled compound containing the East India Company’s district office and telegraph station.  There are very few Europeans in residence other than families linked with the administration or the military and they mostly live in company bungalows sited close to the district office. Chief amongst those civilians are the family of Sir Charles Weatherby-Blythe - the East India Companies district head.

Though it’s only May it is already intolerably hot and an atmosphere of sullen disaffection has descended on the natives, fuelled in part by the weather and in part by the rumours that a great rebellion against the sahibs might soon be in the offing. 

On Sunday the 3rd May Mrs Fanshaw noted in her diary that after leaving church…

“Indian soldiers, used invariably, on meeting any ladies or gentlemen, to salute them in the sepoy fashion, by just putting their hand to the side of the hat or cap, whereas these men did nothing but point and laugh at me amongst themselves, while talking a great deal together in an undertone, keeping seated on the ground the whole time. My mind misgave me - it appeared very ominous of evil.” *

Countdown to disaster - (semi historical fluff)

1) 8th May. Two platoons of Her Majesty’s 64th Regiment of Foot march into Jullundpur, escorting a covered wagon. The wagon holds two sealed crates that are quickly spirited away into the basement of the district office. The crates contain 3000,00 rupees - the yearly pension/ payoff for the areas former Raja.  (This is a LOT of money for the time but the 87 year old does have 14 wives, numerous concubines and a very hungry elephant to maintain). Naturally enough native eyes observed the crates being unloaded and it didn’t take long for speculation to run amok in the marketplace. 

2) 9th May. Listening to market gossip the sepoys of the 28th become convinced by agitators that the crates delivered to the district office contain bibles. They suspect that the European soldiers of the 64th have been sent to disarm them and forcibly convert both hindoo and musselman to Christianity through the power of their holy books.

3) 9th of May (evening). When the rumours that something bad is brewing become too loud to ignore Sir Charles Weatherby-Blythe visits the ex Raja and his nephew to determine their continued loyalty to the crown, (resolving to hold onto the pension money for now as a bargaining chip). 

4) 10th May. Colonel Thompson orders the 28th to parade in order to scotch their recent complaint that the cartridges they’ve been issued have been greased with pig and cow fat. Fearing the parade is actually a pretext for a gathering in which they will be forcibly disarmed the men refuse to attend. Colonel Thompson and a coterie of officers ride to the barrack area to remonstrate with them. Swords are drawn, shots are fired. The colonel and his officers are cut down. The men, now unconcerned by the nature of the grease on their cartridges, go on the rampage in the town, looting and burning anything or anyone of European origin. 

5) 10th of May (afternoon) News of the rising reaches the ex Raja and his nephew. Sir Charles Weatherby-Blythe who the two are currently entertaining is “detained” for his own safety.

6) In her husband’s absence Mrs Weatherby-Blythe takes charge. Major Ashcroft of the 64th agrees to move his force into the district office compound and then sends armed groups out to bring in food, ammunition, and any vulnerable civilians they can find.

The game

So this is where we’re at. As fires rage in the town - the newly arrived civilians are escorted onto boats where they’ll be sent up river to the safety of Lucknow. The only fly in the ointment is Mrs Fanshaw’s best Sunday hat that’s somehow been left behind in all of the confusion.

A daguerreotype showing the handsome Mrs Fanshaw and her hat.

Knowing that Mrs Fanshaw will probably refuse to leave without it, Captain Napier of the 4th Sikh police battalion gathers a handful of men and agrees to go and find it. Lettice and Constance Weatherby-Blythe insist on accompanying the party in case they get the wrong one or just have a man’s look and can’t find it. The pair “tool up” for any eventuality.

I divided the board up into six zones with the central bungalow being the seventh. In each zone I placed a playing card to represent roving groups of mutineers and angry bazar rabble. I’ve no idea what the cards are at this point. A red card denotes occupants and the number present in the zone, a black card indicates no one is actually about.

Captain Napier and co diced to arrive in zone 3 (Top right).

Dusk has fallen and visibility is limited to nine inches. Every time that the hat recovery group moves they stand a chance of alerting potential adversaries in their zone. All adversaries across the board are automatically revealed and activated if a shot is fired - whereupon they must move towards the sound of it. 

Napiers force gains 2VP for each mutineer who ends up suffering from extreme lead poisoning and 20VP if the hat is found and removed from the board via their initial entry point.

The mutineers accrue 10VP for killing / capturing each of the women or Captain Napier and 2VP for every Sikh they manage to despatch. 

I hope to play the game tomorrow but the Batrep will have to wait until some point before month end.

Oh yes, in case it’s of interest I’ve just started work on a 100 years war project in 28mm so more on that in April I guess. 

Look after yourselves mes amis. 

* Actually a quote from a Mrs Sneyd’s diary - a real life mutiny victim.

The Elephant in the room

Progress continues on the mutiny project so here’s yet another ((yawn)) show and tell to bore the arse off you.

With only a few walls and a couple of buildings still to complete I hope to start gaming my “not a campaign” campaign pretty soon. 

First up in this show and tell are these mutineers from the 6th Light (native) cavalry. They should give a good account of themselves in any open country fighting I reckon.

Next up is Mohan Chaterjee, friend to all. Available for removals, taxi service and bar mitzvah’s. No job too small. Special rates for all sahibs. 

And on we go to the actual movers and shakers. Here’s 87 year old Ranbir Mukhajee the forcibly retired* former Raja of Mukala province sitting here atop his elephant, (named Colin). The guy with the flag is his young ambitious nephew Vikram Bagchi, who’s heard on the grape vine that he might be nominated as Ranbir’s successor to the Mukala throne, should the sahibs ever choose to leave India for some strange reason. 

This is Mrs Fanshaw’s company bungalow, situated on the opposite side of the road and a little to the south of the HEIC district office compound. The widow Fanshaw has a very nice hat which she wears to church on a Sunday.

These are three resin wells from TT combat that I’ve just realised are still to be painted. I’ll get right on it. 

In the blast furnace of an Indian summer they are no doubt going to be vital objectives. Note only Europeans and Brahmins may draw from the central well and only those of the untouchable caste from the leftmost. 

Life imitating art? Could the young lady in the painting be Lettice Weatherby Blythe (below in the green dress) perchance? I think we should be told.

The temporary infirmary / hospital set up (should it be necessary) is provided by a number of Paperboys bell tents. 

Finally. Man of my word. Here’s the elephant in the room.

Right then mes amis, I’d best be offski, or as I believe they say in India… अब के लिए अलविदा

*By 1857 the (not so) Honourable East India Company had settled on a new and effective land grabbing wheeze. Native leaders without children of a responsible age were pressured, sorry I meant persuaded, that it was in their best interests to cede their lands and holdings to the company and “retire” on a generous government pension.

Jungle is massive*

*You can Google it up if you like, but trust me it’s really not going to be your bag daddyo.

Anywhoo…Had a few problems with the old noggin just lately but I’ve been “saved” to a very large extent by total immersion in the painting of the following miniatures.

The comments on the paperboys bushes (last post) were supportive but mostly lukewarm, so the Current Mrs Broom sourced me these stands of jungle terrain from Temu. I’ve ordered the same amount again so this jungle will hopefully end up fairly large…if not actually massive. The paperboy stuff was okay but I think this is better. It was ridiculously cheap. 

As you can see the mutineers have acquired a new 9lb cannon which I’ve set against the foliage in order to give a sense of scale.

Also off the painting desk are two more platoons of mutineers (whose bases are yet to be finished) and these lovely ladies who’ll be appearing in a forthcoming freeform narrative campaign. 

From left to right they are: 

Lady Beatrice Weatherby-Blythe, wife of the regional commissioner Sir Charles. She’ll be doing her best to tend to the wounded in the fictitious but soon to be besieged settlement of Jullundpur.

Constance Weatherby-Blythe, eldest daughter of Sir Charles and Lady Beatrice. Constance likes sports, arm wrestling and shooting, oh and sports. Constance is mainly employed in resisting the advances of numerous young officers and politico’s leaving many of them to suspect she is “on the wrong bus”. Did I mention she likes sports?

Lettice Weatherby-Blythe. Youngest daughter of the sahib and memsahib. Lettice likes elephants and rainbows and needlepoint. She’s a crack shot with that pistol by the way, though she’d never hurt a fly.

Mrs Lawford and “the child”. Mrs Lawford is the wife of colonel Lawford - currently away on East India Company business in Simla. The Lawfords live in a bungalow on the edge of town. I’ve yet to make up my mind about the sprog, but I strongly suspect (if TV has taught me anything) that she’ll go missing at the most inopportune moment. lol. 

The miniatures portion of the project is finally nearing completion and soon I’ll be moving more fully on to terrain. Incidentally, the spruegoo I made a while back has now found employment as multiple palm tree bases so it’s not been wasted. As you can sort of see below, there’s a cart, an Elephant called Colin, a Raja, a troop of irregular mutineer cavalry and the last bunch of soldiers left to finish off.

Right… I’m off to a gunfight with the Rejects at Jon’s house tomorrow night so I’d best go and polish my six guns in anticipation.

Toodleooh.

Peanut butter and jelly

Just thought I’d throw up a couple of pictures of another unit that’s recently rolled off the painting bench. 

This bunch are my interpretation of Hodson’s Horse, interpretation because I’ve seen half a dozen different uniform schemes for them on the internet. 

Hodson was one of those larger than life Victorian figures who was given command of an adhoc cavalry group and allowed to let rip. The unit established a very fine reputation and still remains today as an armoured unit in the Indian Army. 

Quick hat tip to Keith over at the Bydand blog while I’m at it. He recently posted about terrain available on the paperboys website. I was quite taken by what I saw and bought what I thought was a very cheap and quick way to produce some of the jungle foliage and river banks needed for my Indian setting. I’m still quite chuffed at how the elephant grass (below) came out - but while the file for this was only a quid and I can reprint it a gazillion times, the printer ink cost is an unexpected and limiting factor to consider. I’m keen to hear what people think about this stuff. Would it work for you?

Elephant grass is of course native to Africa rather than India, but…well…it sort of works for me…and I’m going to need something for my new (animal) tiger model to prowl around in. 

If my Warbases order ever turns up it’ll be time for some girlies next! 

Toodleooh

Exceedingly good cakes

Word play. Not my strong suit. 

To be honest I wanted to call the post “have a look at my bullocks” but I’ve only one (so far)…erm bullock that is (wasn’t there a song about that?) and anyway The Current Mrs Broom said it sounded rude so there you are.

Anywhoo. It transpires that native Indian soldiers did not carry individual water bottles (for caste reasons) and even more surprisingly the majority of British units didn’t either… Initially. Seems they all relied on the regimental “Bhisti” wallah  who followed the units around with a ready supply. 

Here’s mine.

Mr Kipling; apparently a decent poet as well as a maker of teeth rotting Cherry Bakewells, (who knew?) wrote about one such chap called Gunga Din, so for period flavour I’ve included his little ditty below:

Gunga Din

BY RUDYARD KIPLING

You may talk o’ gin and beer   

When you’re quartered safe out ’ere,   

An’ you’re sent to penny-fights an’ Aldershot it;

But when it comes to slaughter   

You will do your work on water,

An’ you’ll lick the bloomin’ boots of ’im that’s got it.   

Now in Injia’s sunny clime,   

Where I used to spend my time   

A-servin’ of ’Er Majesty the Queen,   

Of all them blackfaced crew   

The finest man I knew

Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din,   

He was ‘Din! Din! Din!

‘You limpin’ lump o’ brick-dust, Gunga Din!

‘Hi! Slippy hitherao

‘Water, get it! Panee lao,

‘You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din.’

The uniform ’e wore

Was nothin’ much before,

An’ rather less than ’arf o’ that be’ind,

For a piece o’ twisty rag   

An’ a goatskin water-bag

Was all the field-equipment ’e could find.

When the sweatin’ troop-train lay

In a sidin’ through the day,

Where the ’eat would make your bloomin’ eyebrows crawl,

We shouted ‘Harry By!’

Till our throats were bricky-dry,

Then we wopped ’im ’cause ’e couldn’t serve us all.

It was ‘Din! Din! Din!

‘You ’eathen, where the mischief ’ave you been?   

‘You put some juldee in it

‘Or I’ll marrow you this minute

‘If you don’t fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!’

’E would dot an’ carry one

Till the longest day was done;

An’ ’e didn’t seem to know the use o’ fear.

If we charged or broke or cut,

You could bet your bloomin’ nut,

’E’d be waitin’ fifty paces right flank rear.   

With ’is mussick on ’is back,

’E would skip with our attack,

An’ watch us till the bugles made 'Retire,’   

An’ for all ’is dirty ’ide

’E was white, clear white, inside

When ’e went to tend the wounded under fire!   

It was ‘Din! Din! Din!’

With the bullets kickin’ dust-spots on the green.   

When the cartridges ran out,

You could hear the front-ranks shout,   

‘Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!’

I shan’t forgit the night

When I dropped be’ind the fight

With a bullet where my belt-plate should ’a’ been.   

I was chokin’ mad with thirst,

An’ the man that spied me first

Was our good old grinnin’, gruntin’ Gunga Din.   

’E lifted up my ’ead,

An’ he plugged me where I bled,

An’ ’e guv me ’arf-a-pint o’ water green.

It was crawlin’ and it stunk,

But of all the drinks I’ve drunk,

I’m gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.

It was 'Din! Din! Din!

’Ere’s a beggar with a bullet through ’is spleen;   

‘’E's chawin’ up the ground, 

‘An’ ’e’s kickin’ all around:

‘For Gawd’s sake git the water, Gunga Din!’

’E carried me away

To where a dooli lay,

An’ a bullet come an’ drilled the beggar clean.   

’E put me safe inside,

An’ just before ’e died,

'I ’ope you liked your drink,’ sez Gunga Din.   

So I’ll meet ’im later on

At the place where ’e is gone—

Where it’s always double drill and no canteen.   

’E’ll be squattin’ on the coals

Givin’ drink to poor damned souls,

An’ I’ll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!   

Yes, Din! Din! Din!

You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!   

Though I’ve belted you and flayed you,   

By the livin’ Gawd that made you,

You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din!

So, other than Deepak, Kamal and Prithvi the bullock (above) I’ve now completed another two platoons of native infantry mutineers and a Royal Artillery 9pdr with crew. Busy busy. 

The green facings on the mutineers identify them as coming from the 28th Bengal Native Infantry Regiment who mutinied at Shahjepore - but I’m sure you knew that already; what am I thinking. 

Right then, I’d better be offski. 

Plenty more painting to be done before I can get this show on the road… including some lurvely laydeez. 

Toodleooh.