You won’t be surprised to learn that I was actually eating Pringles when I needed to find a name for the site of the forthcoming battle. While other crisp like comestibles are obviously available for inspiration I felt that the clash on Smokey Bacon hill, or the encounter at Monster Munch heights didn’t sound quite so good somehow.
Ahem… where was I?
Ahh yes.
General Parrott had finally reached the location of the main American coastal battery at Pringles Point, but with a force only half the size that he required. Supplies were running low and the two battalions of light infantry under Sykes that were meant to have joined him had become delayed and disorganised by an unmapped area of marshland blocking their route to the rendezvous.
Hopes however were still high in the British camp when the newly arrived dragoons took up position to the right of the grenadiers and their attached artillery. Despite the extensive fortifications (that General Cummings had been building since game start) there only appeared to be a couple of battalions of militia and artillery defending the coastal artillery position - surely a walk in the park for the British elite.
General Parrott took up position at the head of the dragoons and they cantered off across the left flank while the grenadiers marched about and made a bit of a noise to fix the enemies attention.
The dragoons were pulled up short by a volley from the American militia in the half moon defences ahead and an unexpectedly productive cannonade from the artillery on the hill at the back of the field. (Receiving intelligence that the British were closing in on the coastal guns General Cummings had instructed his subordinate Motte to redeploy the battery to fire inland). Their extra firepower was a major help.
Suffering 50% casualties the dragoons fell back a good distance, but were eventually rallied by the exhortations of brave General Parrott, who cursed them for cowards and demanded that they stand and do duty by their King. (I’m aware, through exposure to Family Guy that this might have another meaning for an American audience - so please feel free to snigger).
Seeing the flank attack fail the grenadiers began an oblique advance on the fortification, taking shot and shell from the defenders as they walked forward in line. They took casualties but their elite status allowed them to shrug off the losses and keep going.
In an effort to add encouragement General Parrott left the shaky dragoons and joined the grenadiers - urging them on (with presumably a lot of sword waving and huzzahs). Shamed into providing some back up the dragoons started to follow but fell foul of another brutal cannonade that hit them in the flank.
Lacking Parrott’s steadying influence they broke under the fire and fled the field.
(Note I was going to declare a loss for the British and a withdrawal if two of the three units took 50% casualties. At this point it was very close. 2 losses on the dragoons and 1 on the grenadiers).
The only plus point for General Parrott so far was that his artillery crew had driven the militia out of the half moon defences - though they suffered no casualties and eventually rallied themselves when out of range.
Reaching the lea of the defences the grenadiers could no longer be shot at by the enemy cannon and their own disciplined fire drove the militia out of the fort. Left alone in the redoubt the remaining American gun crew were cut down as the grenadiers scaled the central defences.
The American militia were quick to break, but quick to rally again. Now outside of the main fortification it was their turn to find cover in the lea of the defences. Pot shots forced the victorious grenadiers to retire from the exposed central position and by the close of turn 9 a curious stalemate had settled over the battlefield.
As dusk fell I drew matters to a conclusion. The British had failed to destroy the coastal battery (on this occasion) and worried that they might lose their elite grenadiers by forcing matters to a conclusion they held back. The Americans for their part faced a similar dilemma. While they seemed to have saved the day the militia had limited staying power and there was no guarantee that a frontal assault on the grenadiers would go their way. As night fell the last of the gunfire petered out. Both sides were at an impasse.
I gave both players the opportunity to withdraw during the night, but it was the British that eventually slipped away under the cover of darkness.
Messengers galloped forth from both camps, rallying whatever forces could be mustered before dawn.
Somewhere nearby a fat lady was getting ready to sing.
The British had been given a bloody nose at Pringles Point but even though their supplies were running critically low they were not beaten yet. Could they still pull something out of the bag?
Toodleooh for now.
