Tanks for the memories.

Back to Bovington for 'Warfare through the ages'.

 Kicking off with a train cancellation, nevermind, only one change and 30 minutes added to the plan... detraining at Wool at about eight thirty and then just a couple of miles to camp.

Shock and consternation of the evening was..  NO BEER TENT.. however as proper troopers we all pitched in and supplied more than enough between us even if it was a mix of brandy, rum, beer, wine and Napier's gun oil. We had a sing song but why was everyone else so quiet?  Next day we had a complaint about the evening and again when we got up.  45eme, last ones to bed and the first ones out of it! 

I was on sentry duty when the event opened at the side entrance, I quite enjoy this, it's difficult to go wrong! People seldom stand and ponder the world going by without looking at a phone or searching for pokemon but sentry duty feels like your doing something whilst.. not really doing something.. just keeping your eye on things and nodding good morning.

Our first official group activity of the day was the parade and we formed up at one in full kit and marched over in the sun to be told we were early, despite what our paperwork said. no matter. All the groups marched through the arena and we learnt that the English civil war started because Oliver Cromwell really, really didn't like Charles I being King. Wow. No one knew that, it was even a new one on the English civil war reenactors. Also the British, just the British, won the battle of Waterloo.. oh and here come the vanquished French! (and neither us nor the British were in Waterloo campaign kit). Who writes this stuff?

The first days battle saw the French with the artillery on the redoubt behind us and a few cavalry repel the British advance, they came forward, led by the 60th rifles, and were stopped at a breastwork and trench that we went forward to secure, driving them out.  It was fun leaping into the trench and scrambling up the other side.
The co-operation between us and the cavalry was really good, getting them to charge and force the men into square (Huddle) whilst we marched on them and opened fire. I actually got to fire off all my rounds.

I like multi-period events, always something more to see, and talk about.. the American civil war guys provoke conversation on 'Whose side are you on?'  I certainly lean towards the Union and everytime someone in the group shouted 'Vive L'Confederacy!'  I kept sturm and waited for the Union guys to come by and shouted for them instead. I've heard of ACW guys who carry on like the war isn't over yet! They seldom seem to mix in the bar.

Speaking of bars, there was one on the Saturday but it was sadly a mediocre affair of Fosters/John Smiths and strongbow which seldom got busy unlike last year when it was the social hub of the event.
Still that night at camp there was an outbreak of spontaneous morris dancing that will not be forgotten in a hurry. We won't let the newly re-named 'Maurice' forget.

On Sunday after the parade I got to try out my game of Gluckhaus that I'd made after Bretten, and it seemed to go down quite well despite it's game of chance simplicity. In the first game I was 'The house' instead of playing and when someone throws a total of four on two dice the house/landlord gets the coin, I never thought it would add up to much but I can see how a soldier running the game could pocket a fair bit without being out of purse, the house always wins! Although I believe it was John and then Tasha that cleared the table. 

Second battle and we had a bad feeling about this.. the cavalry were on the British side today and we began firing from the palisades, one of us got slightly deafened, you can forget that there is a cone of percusion/noise that goes outwards from the musket.. in ranks you don't notice but folk were twisting sideways to fire or being behind others. The blast from my own musket certainly varied as I had ended up with a mix of big and little cartridges from a PFfffft to a WHhuMp!
There was some confusion as we fell back, must form on the drummer! but it is easy to think 'I was next to Jim and stand by him only to find out that Jim is already in the wrong place.. or half the unit is reforming five feet from the other half.

We then got attacked by the cavalry, and intermittently shot at.. time to die with a scream!  Then lying on the ground I realised the cavalry were coming back round to attack, would they see me in time?  I shouted 'Man on the ground' but one of my comrades did the same and they galloped passed, still a new experience seeing horses pound by from between the grass stalks.

The weather had been lovely, bar a bit of overnight light rain, and some of us went for a last beer (even if it was Fosters) before the close of play and stowing of the camp, and folk talking of when and where they will be seeing each other next.
For a few of us it is the campaign weekend in France in a fortnight, must put some string and brown paper on the shopping list...

Vive L'45th!

Sandwich filling.

Sandwich medieval fayre was a two day event but I was only going up on Saturday evening for the second day. This would be my first proper medieval War of the roses type show and more of a reenactment event like the Napoleonic ones, with a living history camp and set battle times. I had been intent on 'Landskneckting' my stuff up before and so was kindly lent a more suitable (i.e. dull English) hat, a padded jack and a long spear for this occasion.

There was a trebuchet and archery/gunnery display and then some jousting. I was reminded that a few years ago I looked into the plausibility of doing jousting myself, unsurprisingly it wasn't that plausible, although if your very very lucky and know the right people you might be able to start out shoveling horse dung and work your way up to a squire.. and get some goes on the horsey stuff. I had been on a horse once.

                            ..and the horsemanship was amazing, these Knights of the damned do all sorts of film work and base the show largely on 'A knight's tale' (which they worked on) complete with rock anthems for each of them. Having seen plently of Napoleonic near misses with horses going all over the place it was quite a change. I don't think the 'Maces of fire' were that historically authentic though.

We were actually on the French side who raided Sandwich (Baguette?) in 1457 and set fire to the town before English reinforcements came up. The medieval siege society were the hosts and read out a disclaimer about having no legal/insurance liability to anyone setting foot on the battleground and a series of rules of combat (no sharp items on the field, no head strikes, acknowledge hits, aim for padding/armour, etc), then it was the off!

Both the days battles seem a little confusing to me now, a series of advances, clash of arms and retreats, but as a newbie I was mainly concentrating on those rules, whilst some were bodily throwing themselves at people with abandon I was almost polite in my approach, trying to wordlessly communicate 'Excuse me! Im going to attack you there, okay? is it alright to hit your elbow?'  I did hit one guy in the elbow and was told to be careful of head strikes. I assume he was talking to me?
I was also trying not to thrust by running the polearm through my forward hand from the rear hand.. which is how I would naturally attack with one but is a no no.

Everyone was good natured but I confess I considered taking up a non combat role, which might seem odd for me, like being a monk going round assisting the injured, giving spiritual solace and also being practical as a water carrier.. maybe I still will.

The archery was interesting, occasionally a line of them would rain down a dozen shots on us and seeing them sail up in the air and level out, coming at you, gave me the same disconcerting feeling I get when standing opposite a cannon at a 45eme show. I seemed blessed though that many hit nearby but not me, infact few were hits except on a 'dead guy' who seemed an arrow magnet. You certainly don't want to get one in the face.

Sandwich was ours though! what could possibly go wrong in the afternoon battle? (part deux).

I was also surprised that I didn't get that hot being in the sun in a padded quilt, gloves, and coif (cap) under a metal helmet. After the show I kept it all on, just as I have the habit of doing with Napoleonics, as did Mr Denyer who I got the lift up with, and we chatted to the public a fair bit.

Medieval shows are a bit more general interest and family themed than most reenactments, I suppose because it is a broader time period and is backed by a lot of media from Braveheart, to Robin hood, To Henry VI to King Arthur to wolf hall (which is about 400 years..) not to mention Monty Python and the holy grail for a descent into silliness. Everyone has an idea of what they think it is all about.  People don't say 'There is an age of enlightenment show on at the weekend dear, shall we take the kids?'

                                                            Insert dog + tinned food joke here.

The second battle was a reverse of the first with some screaming ladies and smoke rising from the town (The south tent lines) as the Eeenglish approached. after several clashs we started to leave a smattering of dead with each push and as I turned to run back to the ships I met my end as a swordsman slashed me across the back.

I had an ice cream and won some Belgian chocolates on the tombola and so the day drew to a close. I felt I'd learnt a lot and ordered a padded gambeson of my own this afternoon and have a fleur de lis to add to it, I'm thinking of going for being a stranded Frenchmen in English service after his master has died (assuming I don't become a monk, Medieval gives you some scope for your own portrayal) although I shall be campaigning in France when the Free company do the next show at Hever castle.

Onwards and upwards!

& now for something completely different (Twie)

July the first was finally upon me!  

 I would be finishing the last day (early shift) of my current job on Thursday and coming home to get ready to go and catch a coach off to S/W Germany with many other members of the Free Company, who have been attending since 1996 and are something of a fixture.
 This would not only be my first non-Napoleonic event but also my first Brettan, fifteen or so hours on a coach away, with a brief pit stop in Luxemburg.

                                    The more simple travel attire.

First business on arrival was a supermarket for group food and beer, we would have our own bar set up in camp so crates of German beer made a goodly chunk of the shop, once at the site, a green space outside the original town walls we formed a human chain to unload the bus. A few of us first timers were given a brief tour of the town, though everything is pretty much in a ten minute walk of everything else.

Official duties that day included a practice parade and battle rehearsal, the battlefield is just a small park and different groups come on and off, it isn't that the festival is around the reenactment, there is so much going on.
 As a newbie I was asked to be a casualty who would then be treated, we would go on and fight a round when it was out turn then after that would be a scene with me as a walking wounded. Dusk was falling, I put on my sallet (enclosed helmet) as advised and fought our tussel, could I see 'a woman with a flag' who I was meant to stagger over to? No, could I see much of anything.. not much, was I sure this was 'After the first battle'?
I had practiced fighting with the helmet on but doing it when looking for someone in a park, with bodies and debris on the ground to avoid treading on, and no peripheral vision certainly made me see why few people have a visor down on a helmet.
So basically I missed the cue, but nevermind, all would be alright on the night.

I had been surprised that most of the group sleep in a gymnasium at the school just round the corner, all laid on by the town, but I predictably choose to remain in the camp.

                                            A proper hat.

I slept fairly well once the occasional beat box boy racer had gone home to mother and awoke with breakfast on my mind. 
We all got breakfast laid on although I had not seen where.. I set off clutching my wooden bowl and hoping my natural sense of free-food location would guide me. It did, and I was surprised at how few people had arrived, they were all still asleep but began filtering through by my third coffee.

I was on duty from one, split into two shifts, one will look after camp and run errands, tidy up, prepare food, etc etc whilst the rest are free, on the Sunday it changes to shift B. 
I still had time in the morning to buy some bells and get them sown on, which was also my first go at sewing, a hugely useful skill for any reenactor, only one bell fell off over the weekend so it can't have been that bad. I also got some on a leather band to tie around my ankle. 

Strangley I usually HATE jingly things, I have to re-arrange loose change in my pockets normally but in this role I actually wanted more such jingling.

           A marksman's competition and the sherperd's leap were local events now part of the festival weekend.

                               
In the afternoon the on-shift went to help with a childrens fayre, tilting at targets, crossbow range, pretend drill, etc and I found myself in charge of the balloon-pig spearing. A balloon is tied to a board with a wild boar on it, and lots of dents. Some kids charged and popped the balloon first time, some just pushed it about for a while as it squeaked and wobbled. It does take a special sort of resolve to stand still holding a wooden board that a spear waving child is running at, but I survived, unlike about eighty balloons.  My enthusiasm for cheering was waning after the first fifty or so. Still good fun.

Before the battle I had to go and get a prostetic wound made up, this was actually made almost entirely of pork, a blood bag and some string and paste. It might not have been entirely fresh pork by saturday afternoon. I also had two halves of an arrow to place in position when a volley came over in the battle.

and so we kitted up and awaited out turn, bish, bash, bosh! being a Swordsman against bills and halberds I decided it was best to reverse the blade and stab downwards, two handedly, which was a traditional style but also meant I could join in the pike fighting as no one makes head height attacks for obvious reasons.
We fell back and over came a volley of arrows. Aaaaaah! I was down and the arrow stuck through my arm, I wondered the field as everyone diappeared and a lady from the surgeons led me away, my arm was braced in a rack as I sat across a bench and the arrow snapped and removed, Screams! und Gott in Himmel! then came the red hot iron, an actual hiss and smell of burnt flesh as it was cauterised, more screams 'Es tut mir Leid!' (I am sorrry!) and I was being led away.  I got a good view of the rest of the battle though and everyone formed up and the drummers hammered away with such a rythme that everyone was stamping or clapping along to it, it was like that bit in 'A knight's tale' with 'We will rock you' playing. Then there was some cheers and thank you and goodnight!

Next day there was only a parade in the early afternoon for us, it got underway quite quickly (having done several such they usually run late with many stops and starts) but after a short time we came off the road and waited whilst much of the parade passed us, there were leppers, dogs, charcoal burners, farmers throwing carrots and radishes into the crowds.. several troupes of flag hurlers, several bands very big on drums and trumpets, goats, horse drawn wagons, washerwomen, and of course bands of landskneckts.. whom we joined in behind and had a bit of a rumble in the main square, before tromping on to another square where we formed a pike/halberd block facing outwards... and back to the Brettan camp for a photo of all of everyone together.

Back to camp and a sit down for a while and an early dinner of cheese and bread and corn on the cob and a rest up, followed by a spot of packing up the camp by those on shift. I wondered into town to spend my last beer token, and found the Brettan camp once more, which is a space only for those in pretty full on kit and a hat, the reenactors bar really. 

Free food was put out and a barrel opened up for all, Hurrah! We were then entertained by a comedy circus-skills type duo with juggling, songs, balloon shapes, and some acrobatics performed on a grid made of pikes hoisted on the shoulders of a dozen landsknechts. 

More of the Free company arrived and we took over the big main table under a canvas, one of our bearded veterans, Keith, was proclaimed king as he had found a crown somewhere. Later in the evening our youngest trooper was accused of soiling the royal tablecloth without due respect or repentance and I was clerk of the court as a charge was brought up, he was sentenced to running the gauntlet and grew upset. The sentence was suspended until next year. 

At this point signs went up at the bar 'Queue here for EU citizens' and 'Queue here for non-EU citizens (back in half an hour)' , I told them we came from Austria which they seemed to find highly amusing, and we got served (that was never in doubt). I may have stood on a bench and given a short speech in my fantastic German at this point about how much I love Germany and Europe and many of us wanted nothing to do with Brexit. 'Nicht in meinem Namen' (not in my name) has strong connotations in Germany.  My oration did at least get me bought a drink from a local fraulein. Probably out of pity. 

          Due to my phone getting cracked on Saturday evening, here is an artist's impression of events.

Another highpoint of the weekend was that we were then officially presented with a full size Brettan flag as a sign of gratitude for the group supporting the event for the last twenty years and I spent the rest of the evening glued to it, and shielded it when we came under attack from flying bangers! 
By now dawn was in the air, the sky turning blue, this is also something of a Brettan tradition for some of the Free company as it means you can then sleep really well on the coach and be oblivious for a good portion of the long return journey. It worked for me. 

                             I save having a bath until I get home!

oh lovely Brettan! the date of next years event is already out so I might have to book as soon as I am able. Definitely going to become a regular thing and maybe the only chance I get to bring out the full on Landskneckt kit once a year, bells and all. 

Memories are made of this. 

& now for something completely different (Ein).

Well, not completely.

In the lull after Waterloo last year and accompanied by seeing several events I could not get to I began to think of extending my reenacting to doing another era, a new interest and a host of different shows I might be available for.

What though?  Nothing black powdery because it would be too similar and I cannot get another firearm without getting a gun cabinet, World war two? Maybe a bit too recent, English civil war? Very popular and I knew someone who was involved who offered advice.. but it didn't quite float my boat, bit too linear and with a lot of politics and turnips. Medieval? certainly different and a bit more free reign, and some friends in the Sappeurs do it and so here was information and events I could share. Yeah, go!

Slowly buying stuff.. as with starting in Napoleonics it was good to have someone to ask and I was soon pointed to Sir William Harrington's companye whose website has a PDF of source material and information on everything from headwear to pants, and how to wear them.

It was still a tricky path and I had already impulsively bought a pair of stripey breeches that will have to go and live in the fancy dress fun box. Half the problem was the freedom. No uniforms, no social/rank order that says you are a peasant, no regulation book, and often a wider period, with the French I have a window of 1806-1812 ideally, the wars of the roses went on for thirty years and saw regional differences and foreign troops enter the fray, with a few changes it can also do for the Hundred years war.
English trade was built on wool and the law encouraged all good English folk to wear it..  so think twice about buying linen.. black dye seldom took and was expensive.. red was a traditional soldierly colour, especially for soldiers trousers.

Another problem was LARP. So many online stores advertise themselves as Medieval reenactment/larp shops (Live action role play) and whilst a fantasy warrior can certainly turn up in authentic hoes and kettle helmet a Wars of the Roses guy can't turn up in a wolf faced knights helmet with a pair of scimitars over his spiked leather shoulder pads.

  

         'What?  is it the bootlaces? damn, it said it was a reenactment site where I bought them, would they be okay if I was Lancastrian?'

After a few months I had gathered a basic outfit, complete with red wool hoes, pointy shoes and a Sallet helmet from reenactment supplies but it seemed likely my first event was going to be the Peter und Paul fest in Germany, a town besieged in 1504 and defended by a small army of mercenary Landskneckts. I do love the look of landskneckt garb, it make the war of the roses look positively drab.

Feathers, big hats, stripes, slashed sleeves, bright colours! at a time when peoples dress code was just that, limited by class and profession, the landskneckts.... whose lives were deemed quite rough and often short were granted the freedom to wear jolly well what they wanted and they certainly took advantage of it in the showing off department.

A hat! a big feathery hat would come first, although I ended up buying a pack of ostrich feathers separately.. I stumbled upon this trader kokoszowa maufufaktura who had a good range, later I would buy a wappenrock, a knee length, quartered, slashed sleeve surcoat.

Roll on July..

BLING.

Welcome to the order of the fried egg!

Medals in the world of reenactment are a subject of debate and controversy. How does someone earn medals in battles that are usually loosely scripted and with a predetermined outcome? who decides if someone should have one?  Well, no one really except the wearer.

When I went to Jaywick prepared to be an Officer I decided to put one of my Waterloo medals on to 'Top brass' my uniform up a bit, it was still on there when I packed it for Ligny and I decided to keep it on, particularly as the ribbon is in Belgian colours, but did feel a bit iffy about it a couple of time. Historically most soldiers would only don medals and plumes and fancy bits and bobs for parades and dinners and such events.

There is a school that feels you should not wear an historical medal unless you are actually entitled to it, and most medals I've seen are just for big events. Some people might frown at historically inaccurate (made up) medals, some people will frown at the opposite.

I mentioned a facebook thread I'd seen about a world war two reenactor (pictured below) to a friend at Ligny familiar with some other eras and he quite agreed, I hate to generalise but the worst offenders in Blingology seem to be WWII Germans..

He has nearly every medal a German can get, including the Iron cross, first and second class I believe (I'm no expert) and to me the worse thing is.. if he has done so much to earn them.. why is he still a f*%king private soldier guarding a plane on some airforce base with a rifle?  all that and not one promotion?

In America many American civil war events give out medals for events, they can build up pretty quick!  but again you would not normally wear them into battle at the time.

I've also seen the odd person in a habit (jacket) with long service stripes who has borrowed or inherited the garment and not taken them off. I feel a bit iffy about that although those in immediate circles generally know the score.

I have to say in Napoleonic circles people seem quite restrained, the Old Guard at Ligny were not covered in 'The Legion of honour' medals although paradoxically quite a few of them probably would have earnt it, as would many officers, but there is not really a way to get one unless you pin it to yourself.  Maybe some sort of commitee should be formed and award medals to those making a great contribution to the hobby?

*goes on ebay. types in Leipzig medal. Curses at results*

Ligny.

Ligny! (pronounced lin-ee) Napoleon's last victory, whracked by many 'if only..' moments just like the rest of the Hundred days campaign. The battle is refought most years although after last years bicentenial 2016 was going to be a more modest affair but would hopefully attract a good few hundred.  I was particularly looking forward to facing a Prussian army instead of the familiar flurry of riflemen backed up by ranks of redcoats, if only for a different aesthetic it would make a nice change. 

Myself, Flapjaques and Bob set out early with Henriette, Charlotte and Edith in the back with the rest of the gear and after going to the slightly wrong Ligny (in France) ended up at the right one in Belgium.

One of the few remaining buildings from the time, held by the Prussians and stormed and captured by the Imperial guard.

Having got unpacked with the help of some local volunteers to sherpa stuff into the field and put some tents up we wandered into town for a drink and bought a few provisions, including a lovely meringue-cream cake and some ridiculously cheap wine (by UK standards).
Everything was so well organised, the toilets actually had little sinks and flushed instead of being the usual hole above a cess-pit design.

..and the food they provided, very generous indeed, loads of fresh bread, eggs, tomatoes, leeks, onions, pork-things, apples, potatoes, water and vin rouge.

    Part of this generosity may have been that some units had failed to make it or had less troops, parts of France and Belgium having been badly hit by rain and flooding. It soon emerged that the Prussians would be rather outnumbered and in fact had no line infantry, it was all light division bods including quite a few Brunswick Jeagers, so no Prussian blue at all. There was also another event at Bourtagne (?) going on up to the North-East of the country that had drawn Prussians and French, such as our friends in the 85eme. Wavre is also on just down the road in a couple of weeks.

It was a relaxed event with plenty of spare time but at 14.30 on the Saturday there was meant to be a drill session, we were the first unit into the field, soon after followed by the jeagers.

One strange turn was that the peleton was veering slightly to the right when it was meant to be marching straight forward, no one really noticed that they were doing anything to put the unit off course.. until it was discovered to be all down to one elbow. Everyone tries to remain in elbow contact to the soldat next to them to keep the line together but at the right flank was our drummer, Naomi, and each time the person on her left pushed his elbow against hers she understandably moved a fraction right so as to be able to keep playing unobstructed.. to which the soldat moved slightly right to re-engage and so did the soldat to his left and so on.. so that the whole peleton was sliding a fraction right all the time without knowing it.

Belatedly most of the French then came on and we stayed long enough to be noticed before marching off.. Not quite! literally stopped at the gate by the designated commander who was incharge of our combined group, which seemed a bit of a cheek to me as between us and the sappeurs (who we usually work with) we outnumbered the troops this Lieutenant had brought with him and so also had more English speakers than French leading to James, who speako the lingo, having to interpret everything, although nothing could interpret the 'Why are we doing this?' moments.

After a break and a beer (not much, if anyone was found to be drunk the whole unit was to be sent off the field).. the battle!

I was happy to get a lot of firing done, about ten rounds in a row, after the misfires of Ickworth. I imagine the open order of the Jeagers must have saved their modest numbers from being destroyed by such vollies. The pyrotechnics were done well, timed well with the cannon fire and close enough to units to look like near misses. 

We were ready to 'Do our own thing' if we felt the plan was dull and unrewarding, as we felt so many people had travelled a long way and wanted more than just trampling forward and firing a few shots. It was also mostly going on quite far form the L shaped area that the public was in. I think this was my only niggle about the weekend but probably had nothing to do with the fine work by the organisers.

It all ended closer to the spectators though, maybe too close as we marched forward shouting 'En avant!' with bayonets fixed right up to the audience line before being stopped at the last moment. I noticed after how firing so much with the bayonet fixed left a pleasant dappled patten from silver to charcoal grey up the blade.

Sunday morning we were all woken up by a single drummer playing a really fast beat and a slower one at the same time.. DingDingDingBANGDingDingDingBANG.. and this went on for what seemed like ages.. so much so that it was like every soull in earshot generated a sigh of relief when it did end.
Sunday also saw a parade around the town, and again we seemed to be first unit to turn out for it. and promptly wait for anything to happen. We expected to stop at the local memorial but only the Guard were in attendance whilst the rest marched back to camp.. and that was it, free time!

                       Don't drink and ride. Ten minutes after this picture was taken there was an eight horse pile up.

Arsehole of the weekend award goes to the French Lieutenant who chided me when on (voluntary) sentry duty for holding my musket to present arms in a hurry to two officers (who didn't actually notice) slightly right of centre and having moved my arm to the left 'jokingly' told Duncan to put me on a charge. Duncan diplomatically just nodded and shrugged.
He returned next day when we were waiting to go on the parade and again 'Jokingly' chided one guy for having his collar tucked up, another for having muddy shoes and a new guy for having a bicorne on instead of a shako (because he hasn't got one yet). The generous may see this as light hearted but he laughed whilst doing it only to take the edge of his criticism, he was picking holes, not only that but it was rude to do it in front of our own Officer. Only bemusement and not wanting to create bad blood kept us from having a go at him although I had some choice French expressions ready for if he came back again.

We DID come away feeling good about our drill and our presentation, the French, being French and schooled on le militaire Francaise probably take that side more seriously in the same way that the Grenadier guards, Windsor Davis in 'It aint 'arf hot mum.', the stiff upper lip, Zulu and the like inform British groups about Military standards as part of general culture... plus the Old Guard were there who are meant to be veterans of impecible standards and some of us saw then make a right pigs ear of a simple order and bump into each other, left and right.

A good weekend, well organised yet relaxed. As at Waterloo just down the road I felt the locals were very much pro-French and I saw a few Tricolours hanging from local windows, I'm sure the locals were friendly to the Prussian guys too but with less cheering.
By mid-afternoon it was time to pack up the car to the brim and set off, seemingly with more stuff than we came with of course.

Farewell Ligny!

                                                              Homeward bound.

The sands of time.

The chances are you have either never heard of Jaywick Sands or you have had the misfortune of seeing 'Benefits by the sea' in which it was featured as the seaside town that never closed down, except its not really a town, more of an appendage of Clacton-on-sea.

Yet here was where the French invasion was to begin! One small problem was that owing to other commitments, geography, randomness and time allocation (There are 45eme events on for the next three weekends..) there was only one Frenchmen. Moi.
So the Kings German legion/Polish artillery, Prussian landwehr and a portion of the rifles were ordered to French up for the weekend.. but who would lead them? Who was a dedicated Frenchmen with a big hat in his wardrobe?  Moi.

There was an officer's meeting just after I arrived setting out the plan for the day and then a walk up to the ridge by the beach to have a run through of the battle plan and address any questions, point out pyros and where units would be starting. Sounded like a good scenario, naval bombardment, surprise attack from the right hand beach and push the British back into the tower before storming it and raising the tricolor!  Day two would go the other way.

There was a public tour of the camp with short talks, accompanied by the Mayor, and a volunteer from the 11eme was shot, several times before he would shut up.

Battle!  The sun came out and we waited on the beach for the last pyro (on top of the tower) to go off as our signal to advance. It didn't go off.  Instead a small group of redcoats appeared at the top of the beach and we took that as a cue to advance in two groups of infantry and the artillery, dragging the guns up to the ridge and beginning an exchange of cannon fire. The two units marched down the slope, I actually remembered all the French commands quite well but sadly the men didn't speak the lingo so each was followed by a quieter subtitle-esque translation for their English sensibilities. 

One of my favourite moments was being between the two units and ordering a big volley, swishing down the sword 'FEU!' and every musket going off.  I then took the 11eme off to drive away a couple of skirmishers before wheeling on the remaining gun crew. It was funny looking to the experienced Rifles sergeant and realising he was waiting for me to tell him what to do next.

One of the cannons was brought down now that the remaining British had locked themselves in the tower and were firing from the roof.  Boom!  no more door, and we all raced in to deliver the coup d'gras.  

                                           The 11eme take a moment to enjoy victory! 

 Form up to address the crowd and give a cheer.

The crowds dwindled away although throughout the weekend bemused locals would turn up and ask 'What's going on?' some came out because they heard the artillery demonstration or the battle going on.. next day the cannons were fired particularly to attract people.

Filming!  The Napoleonic association were making a short film/advert for the Hole park event in Kent and wanted to suggest the French had landed and the invasion had begun. First scene to be filmed was a fusilier throwing a grenade into the tower and blowing the (bloody) doors off. I was amongst those who went in afterwards (and after a couple of takes) and I have never been in such a smokey atmosphere, everyone was coughing and trying to get upstairs as soon as possible. 

That night there was a sortie for fish and chips and a slightly different sing along to usual as it involved a stereo in the British camp playing tunes, I mostly remember Queen and lots of squeaky voices. 

During the filming I'd learnt that a few people were staying in the Martello tower and decided to join them, finding a nice tucked away spot by the tea shop, although sadly there was no tea at that time. 

Breakfast was bread and sausages but I had forgotten to pack any cutlery bar a wooden spoon and no bayonet or skillet! I discovered a metal tent pin is handy, you can skew two sausages and the hook at one end stops them falling off. 

Despite the egalitarian fare it was off to the officer's meeting again and suddenly redcoats and greenjackets were nodding and saluting 'Morning Sir!'  My response was a sort of half salute.. half wave.. and a well meaning nod. Maybe it's something you get used to.

More filming took up a large chunk of the morning, over running the tower with some Errol flynn moves, running up a beach and peering over an embarkment at the tower then giving the wave for about twenty soldiers to go over the top.. except the grass was slippery and it took three takes before no one slipped over and sprawled on the top. Second time may have been me. Then next take.. BooMTishBoomTishBoomTish.. the nearest caravan started blaring out music.. not quite the soundtrack we wanted... and Tony had the unenviable task of getting the guy to turn it down, it went quiet except for a vaguely feminine voice that shrieked 'HAA Am I MEANT TO DO ME FECKIN' DANCIN' NAAA!' 

    

Lastly came the beginning.. Napoleon landing on the beach! both film and still shots, which came out rather well.

Before the battle I was asked to accompany John aka Napoleon around and along the line of the public, calling on them to cheer the French and accept the benefits of civilization.  It didn't go down well. They were worse than 'Dover".

So we awaited the coming of the enemy whilst the announcer regaled the crowd with fascinating facts. Then we waited a bit longer and the announcer had to delve deeper and deeper into her repertoire.. and then the colours appeared on the far ridge. Napoleon found he was needed somewhere else and I went to join the men falling back into the tower and barring the door.

There was no way on earth that Frenchmen in a 'Castle' looking down on a party of English was not going to rapidly descend into Monty Python. 

Finally the (bloody) doors were blown off and on came the rush of redcoats to end our gallant resistance. The union flag was raised once more ending the mock tearful complaints of the ex-army NCO who had been given the job of keep running the French one up all weekend. 

And so the weekend drew to a close, a good experience and despite our jokes Jaywick was okay and the people were welcoming enough. The council had been much behind the backing and if happy then the tower might see more action next year.  (Good pictures in this piece by Alan Balding)

Next stop, a long cannon shot from last years spectacular Waterloo,  Ligny!