Saturday, 13 October 2018

Why I Wargame Early Modern

I have, in the past, been slightly curmudgeonly about wargaming both World War One and World War Two. I have also griped about colonial games where the native is mowed down by machine guns. I am not sure I have done so, but I could also grumble about Napoleonic games, mostly because of the impossibility of painting some of the uniforms and the vast numbers of figures needed to make a viable wargame. I might also be able to swipe at the eighteenth century, with their interchangeable forces except for the coat colours. Not only that, but I could dismiss medieval wargaming as too difficult because of painting heraldry and, anyway, battles were settled by the charge of a few knights mowing down the commoners, so it was all a bit pointless.

Now, all I am left with is the ancients period and early modern wargaming. These, of course, are my own personal favourites, and so stand above all criticism, at least by me. And, if your blood pressure is rising (or has risen) because I have denigrated your favourite period, then I do know that all the above comments about the different periods (and ones I have not mentioned) can and should be nuanced. On the other hand, some might be offended that I have not mentioned their own period. Life and people can be odd like that.

Anyway, as the last few posts might have convinced you, I have returned to the ‘early modern’ period. The period name is interesting in itself. It used to be called ‘renaissance’, but then it was pointed out that the Renaissance happened, at best, in the early part of the period and that, in fact, there were several renaissances in Europe. Another name might be thought to be ‘pike and shot’ but the problem there is that the pike was a distinctly European weapon, at least in this period. So the rather ugly term ‘early modern’ was invented or at least came about. It isn’t my fault.

The name ‘early modern’ of course indicates itself a transition from whatever happened before to something recognisably ‘modern’, whatever that means. The early modern period exists largely because it is neither medieval nor modern, although even counting the French Revolution as modern is stretching things a little.

There is a degree of flexibility at the boundaries of the period as well. Lots of people count it as being from 1485 to 1713, but that is a peculiarly British (English?) point of view, running from Bosworth to the end of the War of Spanish Succession. Other views point to 1492 as a start date, when Columbus detected the Americas and the French invaded Italy with lots of cannons. Again, that is a peculiarly Euro-centric view. After all, the native Americans had been merrily waging war on each other for generations prior to being discovered, and, for themselves, did not need discovering at all.

A slightly more viable start date might be 1453, with the Ottoman capture of Constantinople. This is at least an even on a slightly wider canvas; on the other hand, it did not make much material difference to warfare, although it did to the cultural and intellectual life of Europe. Scholars fleeing the siege brought with the Greek texts of various sorts which, between them, gave a fillip to academic life, philosophy and (you could argue) started the trends that led to the Reformations.

The end date is equally contested. 1660 has been mooted, but that is due to the Restoration in Britain. 1688 is another Anglo-centric date. I have mentioned 1713, and a few use 1750 (which seems a little arbitrary; I suspect it is just for neatness). 1721 is, of course, the end of the Northern Wars, while 1792 is the French Revolution. There are arguments as to whether the Revolution marks a discontinuity in warfare or a development thereof. Another mooted date is 1815, and the final defeat of Napoleon and a new legal order in Europe.

All of these dates can be defended and equally contested. I am not going to enter into the endless and rather pointless debates that can ensue. As the Estimable Mrs P observes ‘I thought it was a hobby. My own limits to the period are from 1500-ish to 1700-ish, with a bit of wriggle room at each end. How is that for being decisive?

Anyway, the question of the post is why this period, whatever it is? I suppose there are many answers to that question. A choice like that is not made easily, suddenly and is often more whimsy than anything else. A reason was Stuart Asquith’s articles in Battle / Military Modelling on ECW battles. Another was my gradual realisation that there was quite a lot more to that period than Charles I and Cromwell bashing away at each other, including the surprise of my history teacher that I had even heard of the Thirty Years War. And then later (and still ongoing) realisations as to the connectivity of things in the period.

One of the attractions I find of the early modern period is the general weirdness of it all. It is recognisably the world we live in, except the ideas we live with are somewhat half-formed. It is also a period where, for example, Stone Age societies (or at least, technologies) can battle it out with firearms, with a chance of winning. In fact, you can throw pretty well any sort of troops on the table, except, I suppose tanks and similar, and find a society and culture that used them. Elephants? Check. Rockets? Check. Submarines? The idea was around, as, in fact, so was that of tanks, of course. I dare say that similar things can be argued for other periods; I am not trying to suggest that my period has a monopoly on either weirdness or half-baked technology, but it is an interesting time.


 Finally, I suspect that the era is under-represented in wargaming terms. I have lost count of the number of Napoleonic, World War Two and One and even ancients wargames I have seen at shows or in the blogosphere. Not so many (although not none) in this period. And apart from in my list of armies to rebase, I have not seen some of the interesting match ups that there are in the period. Ming versus Manchu, anyone?

Saturday, 6 October 2018

World Wargaming

Now, do not panic. I have not suddenly taken a dive into World War Two, World War One, or even the Seven Years War. The latter is often touted as the ‘first world war’, even though historians of the seventeenth century (if not the sixteenth) would claim that the Hispano-Dutch War was a world war, especially after the Portuguese possessions became Spanish after 1580. The Dutch, after all, launched attacks in South America and the Far East. Phillip II sort of by accident, landed up with an empire upon which the sun did not set, hundreds of years before the British thought of it. And the Dutch were a maritime nation at war with it.

Anyway, before I digress too much further, I am not thinking about world wars in the conventional sense, but about the rise of what is called ‘world history’. This is mentioned in Morillo’s book which I reviewed here a bit ago. On closer examination, I noticed that a few of the works on my shelf corresponded with the idea (most notably Geoffrey Parker’s tome  Global Crisis: War, Climate Change and Catastrophe in the Seventeenth Century (Yale: Yale University Press, 2013), which I reviewed here a bit ago. The basic synopsis is ‘brilliant but depressing.’).

The point is that, as those of you who have been paying attention to my meanderings here might have noticed, I have returned to my old soldiers, and hence to wargaming on a world stage. I have no intention of trying a re-run of my Internet-based campaign game of global scope, 1618-Something, but nevertheless, there are interesting possibilities. But one thing that has occurred to me is the possible relationships between world history and wargaming.

One of the key aspects of world history, so far as I can judge, is the possibility of comparisons between two different areas of the world. There are, of course, inevitable differences between assorted bits of the world, but there are also a sufficient number of parallels to make comparison possibly instructive. A case in point (with due apologies to those without access to an academic library) is this:

Morillo, S., 'Guns and Government: A Comparative Study of Europe and Japan', Journal of World History 6, no. 1 (1995), 75-106.

I will not, for the moment at least, go into the details of Morillo’s argument in the paper, but the point, so far as I am concerned, is that a comparison between Europe of the sixteenth century and Japan of roughly the same era is not only possible but instructive. The argument, in brief, is that the ‘military revolution’ (scare quotes seem to be appropriate) was not dependent on the introduction of gunpowder. That can be dated precisely to 1543 in Japan, and Morillo argues that (looked at in the right scale) Japan was already promoting stronger states (it was not a single state; like Europe rather than France) before gunpowder arrived, so the increase in state power, the size of armies and revenues are not dependent, as some forms of the military revolution argument go, on having weapons that go bang.

I am not a sufficient historian to be able to critique Morillo’s argument, although I dare say that it is not totally watertight. I could see, for example, that it could be argued that Japan at least had a history of being a state, while the different bits of Europe did not. This might have made state formation ideologically easier. On the other hand, the idea of ‘chivalry’ (to apply a western term to the Samurai code) had not died in either Europe or Japan, although warfare, pragmatically, ignored it.

The point here is that, possibly, wargaming has something to contribute here. Phil Sabin, as most wargamers probably know, has been tirelessly promoting the idea of a wargame as a set of models which can be tested against known outcomes. If you do not know about this, then try Sabin, P., Lost Battles: Reconstructing the Great Clashes of the Ancient World (London: Hambledon Continuum, 2007), or Sabin, P., Simulating War: Studying Conflict through Simulation Games (London: Continuum, 2012). I am pondering whether wargaming might be able to contribute to the sort of comparative study that Morillo presents.

Obviously, I am not daft enough to suggest that the comparison is easy or that a simple-minded ‘Samurai army against French Ordonnance’ matchup would shed any light at all on anything very much. But some of the detail might be interesting. Morillo suggests that, really, in battle, the difference between bows and muskets was not that great. I have seen this suggested elsewhere – for example in the endless debates in Elizabethan military literature about the merits of the longbow. If they were, in fact, interchangeable, then exchanging them (or going all one way or the other) should make little or no difference to the outcomes of battles.

If this is the case, then the reason for both Japanese and European armies adopting massed musketry must lie elsewhere. I do not think there is any proof, but the suspicion lies around the relative ease of training musketeers as opposed to archers. One relies on chemical energy, the other on muscle power, after all. Thus we could model a relationship between bow and musket along the lines of the fraction of available manpower which could be utilised for each weapon; not all available males of service age would be fit to draw a bow, while more could use a firearm.

Naturally, this would rely on a validated model for warfare in the countries, and periods, in question. I doubt if we have one of those and, to be brutally honest, my view of the hobby wargame world at the moment is that rules are moving further away from modelling real battles rather than nearer. This is not, before anyone starts jumping up and down, a particular criticism of any rules sets or styles thereof, just an observation that the fun element is getting more conspicuous than, perhaps, it has been in the past (not that the rules are in fact less ‘accurate’ than older sets, but that the models used are less explicit).


Still, it would be an interesting thought experiment. Would a Samurai army armed with bows be able to take on one armed with firearms? How many more troops would the latter have to deploy to obtain a victory? Simulations of this, in a validated ruleset (if such a one could be obtained), might (and only might; there is a lot of prejudice against doing this sort of thing), contribute something to our historiographical knowledge of the period.

Saturday, 29 September 2018

Highland Warrior

In spite of all the wargaming, and the reasonable amount of painting and basing which I have undertaken, I have still been reading books. The case in point here is this tome:

Stevenson, D., Highland Warrior: Alasdair MacColla and the Civil Wars (Edinburgh: Birlinn, 2014).

Now, as someone who started ‘serious’ wargaming with the English Civil War, and, perhaps to his credit quite quickly realised that there was more to it than England, this is a work of interest and so, one summer afternoon while waiting for the paint to dry, I started it. I confess I found it a bit difficult to get into to start off with. The opening chapter is a discussion of the Highlands in the early seventeenth century, which, to an outsider, is a confusing mix of names and places. It deals, largely, with the rivalries of the clans in the Southern Highlands, and the key to understanding this is the rise of Clan Campbell. In a sense, this, and the reactions to it during the seventeenth century are the theme of the book.

The links with Ireland are also emphasised. The MacDonnells of Antrim and the MacDonalds were related, and there was a fair bit of to-ing and froing between them. Most Highland Lords had navies, galleys and sailing ships, and the traffic between Scotland and Ireland, both political and commercial, was extensive. This had the effect of enmeshing Scotland in the rebellion of the Irish in the early 1640’s. In fact, the only really effective army in Ireland in the early 1640’s was Scottish, and a factor in the arrival of the Irish troops in Scotland in 1644 was an attempt to make the Scottish Covenanter government in Edinburgh withdraw it to counter the Irish – Highlander alliance.

Alasdair MacColla was a MacDonald and spent a fair bit of time in Antrim. His father was a key fighter against Campbell expansion in the early seventeenth century; his family spent time in Ireland to avoid the Campbells, for example, and there were various activities, more or less violent or farcical, in the southern islands. Things became a lot more serious with the rebellion, of course, and Alasdair was a commander in the rebel army, defected to the Scots and then returned to the Irish, alongside leading raids and arguably inventing the ‘Highland Charge’ in Ireland.

With the arrival of MacColla and his troops in Scotland, the narrative turns to more familiar grounds, at least for me. Most of us who have looked at any account of the Civil Wars will be aware of Montrose’s campaigns in and around the Highlands and various attempted invasions of the Lowlands and promises to lead huge armies into England in support of the King. Historiography has moved on from the late nineteenth and earlier twentieth century view of Montrose as a hideously romantic hero, a genius general and a man who could have saved the Royalist cause had it not been for his subordinates (including MacColla), English Royalist cowardice and disorganisation and dour Scottish Presbyterianism which refused to acknowledge when it was beaten.  The reality is, of course, a lot more complex.

I am sure I have remarked before that more recent views regard Montrose as a rather average general, one who, on a number of important occasions, failed to scout properly and was surprised on a number of occasions when he should have known better. Stevenson, in fact, entirely re-writes Gardiner’s account of the battle of Auldearn, arguing that instead of an inspired misdirection of the Covenanter army to expose itself to a flank attack, Montrose was surprised and MacColla’s men had to fight a lengthy delaying action while Montrose gathered up the rest of the army and came to relieve them. Had the Covenanters not been worried about damp powder in their muskets, and discharged them before their approach to the battle, Montrose and the Royalists might well have been utterly surprised and routed. Of course, that assumes that those muskets would have fired….

Another important point Stevenson makes is that the Royalist cause in Scotland was always an alliance of disparate forces with different aims. MacColla’s aim was to destroy Clan Campbell and reclaim his own clan’s lands. As Argyll, the chief of the Campbells was also the chief player in the Covenanter government, this worked until it appeared that that government was defeated. Ravaging Campbell lands and defeating them at Inverlochy might not have been Montrose's ideal strategy for the beginning of 1645, but it did fit in. Doing it again after Kilsyth did not, as Montrose needed to present himself as able to form a Royalist government based on Glasgow and had summoned a parliament. MacColla was less interested in this and wanted another go at destroying the Campbells.

Stevenson makes some interesting comments about the historiography surrounding MacColla. If a historian regards Montrose as a hero general, then MacColla must be a subordinate. His activities at Auldearn must, therefore, be of someone who was a good fighter but a bit thick, starting the combat too early and having to be rescued by the genius’ plan and own activity. Similarly, his move into Campbell lands after Kilsyth is represented as that of someone who had not understood Montrose’s grand plan. Again, a good fighter but not very bright. This is augmented by Gaelic poetry, which focusses on his abilities as a warrior, not as a leader or general. We all like heroes as heroes.

Furthermore, I have seen MacColla’s death described as being in a skirmish in Ireland. Now it is true that he was killed in Ireland in 1647, but Stevenson observes that the battle where he died (in apparently dubious circumstances), Knocknanuss, was larger than any of Montrose’s battle, possibly excepting Kilsyth. Yet it gets largely ignored, maybe because it was in Ireland, or perhaps it simply does not fit in with our historiography of the period. After all, only Drogheda and Wexford really count in defeating the Irish rebellion.

There is a lot in the book, and it is recommended, even though it is a re-issue of a 1980 work. I doubt if historiography has moved on very much since it was first published, although I do know that an awful lot has been argued over about the ‘Highland’ charge, its origins, effectiveness and impact. But that will have to wait for another day.


Saturday, 22 September 2018

Breakout

Colonel Cranium looked around the table at his captains. They were all tough, hardened mercenaries. To a man, they were afraid of nothing and no-one. Used to the realities and scarcities of battle and campaign. All of them are veterans of a thousand sieges and skirmishes.

Captain Amnesia was reading a paper. Cranium stared at him. This was unusual. His command notes were often returned, unread by his subordinates.

‘What is it, Amnesia?’

‘It is a letter from a Polish captain.’ There was a stir around the table. ‘No, my friends, it is not treason. He writes to tell me that he is enjoying my Burgundy.’

‘Your what?’ Cranium was surprised. Amnesia was definitely a beer man, in his book.

‘My Burgundy. I was having some shipped in especially for my birthday.’

‘On the convoy?’

‘Of course. I have not resorted to clandestine activities.’ Cranium glanced around. A number of captains were looking innocent, a sure sign that some of them were importing delicacies illicitly.

‘All right, now listen. The Poles captured the convoy, and we have to live with that.’

‘We have heard them partying from the walls.’

‘Well, I suppose Amnesia’s Burgundy was a decent vintage.’

A chuckle went around the table. ‘I was planning to share it with my band of brothers, of course,’ Amnesia said.

‘I doubt it was the only decent drink that was captured that day.’ Cranium frowned. ‘Brothers in arms,’ he said, ‘we do have a problem as the result of the failure of the convoy to get here.’

‘We are not starving, colonel.’

‘True and we are not going to. But unless we do something then all we are going to have left to drink for Christmas is vodka.’

‘Polish or Russian vodka?’

‘Polish, made by Russians.’

‘That stuff gives you a terrible hangover.’

‘We must do something!’ A murmur of agreement circulated.

‘I have done some thinking and a little planning, and I think we can launch an attack on the Polish main camp. At least we could recapture our supplies. At best we might drive the Poles off.’

‘What is the plan, Colonel?’

‘Well, as you know we have four gates – Omsk, Tomsk, Tobermory and Great Uncle Bulgaria. The Polish camp is opposite the latter. If we can form up on the flat land under the walls from midnight, then we can fall on at first light and catch the Poles when they are in their cups.’

‘In our cups, you mean.’

‘They will have guards.’

‘Of course. But the cavalry will exit by Tobermory and Tomsk and come around the flanks, while the infantry goes directly via Bulgaria. That should drive the guards in and cause enough chaos for us to push the Poles back.’

‘Chaos for whom, colonel? Us or them?’

‘I do understand the risks, Migraine, but we are not attacking at night.’

‘But it is a bit risky.’ Migraine was always the one searching for problems.

‘Of course, but warfare is like that. And consider the opportunities. We only have to recapture our drink. Plus, and I know this will go no further: our current employers will pay a bounty to us if we drive the Poles off. If not, and we put on a good show, then there are possibilities of negotiating a new contract with a different employer.’

‘The Poles?’

‘I am afraid that the information is subject to the usual confidentiality clauses. The raid will occur in two days; please be ready to move your troops into place from midnight. I will circulate the details later today.’ Cranium paused. ‘Do I have your agreement?’

‘We only have two squadrons of cavalry, colonel. Will the garrison Boyars be involved? I mean, I think they quite like their own vodka.’

‘I think that most of them will be happy to join in. Firstly, they had their own supplies on the convoy. Secondly, I believe that at least one secret recipe for flavoured vodka was on the convoy, and so there are commercial secrets at risk as well.’

‘Flavoured vodka? I thought most of its charm was that it was pretty flavourless.’

‘Well, you will have heard of the flavoured gin bars springing up around the world. I suppose it was too much to expect that vodka wouldn’t follow.’

‘Disgusting stuff flavoured gin.’

‘Do you prefer unflavoured gin, Captain Trepan?’

‘Give me a decent glass of wine any day.’

‘If we recapture my Burgundy, I’ll give you a bottle.’

‘Generous of you, Amnesia.’

‘Gentlemen.’ Cranium held his hand up. ‘We are in danger of drifting from the point. The Boyars will supply two squadrons of cavalry; they will exit from Tomsk. Ours will leave via Omsk. The infantry will go out through Great Uncle Bulgaria. There will be four companies of shot, four of pike. The outer earthworks will have two more shot companies to provide cover for any retreat, but they will not move forward, so don’t treat them as your reserve.’ Cranium paused. ‘Any questions?’

‘How do we get the men to bring the booze back here and not drink it there?’

Cranium grinned. ‘Tell them that the Hussars will get them if they pause.’

There was general laughter. ‘They were too stoned to move last time out,’ Amnesia chuckled. ‘Even though the convoy was wide open.’

‘It can be hard sitting on a horse with a hangover,’ Captain Poise put in.

‘Maybe it was the horses that had overindulged.’

Cranium joined in the laughter. ‘Nevertheless,’ he added, when a degree of order had been restored, ‘we cannot assume that they won’t intervene this time.’

‘If I had known we had to do this, I would have added a case of flavoured Hock to my order.’

‘Hock? Why?’

‘It would be vile and disable any Pole that drank it!’

‘Why bother with flavoured Hock? Just give them bottles of Liebfraumilch.’

‘Well, maybe, but it would need to be alcoholic, you know.’

‘Not necessarily. I mean food poisoning can disable the best men. I’m sure drink poisoning would do the same.’

Cranium decided it was time to wrap up. ‘Until the day after tomorrow, gentlemen.’ He bowed and left the room. He needed a drink.






Saturday, 15 September 2018

Don’t Bother With This Post Either…

‘We’re going to land up in the Tower, you know.’

‘It wasn’t our fault. The wind was against us. And it didn’t help that Plonker here ran into Redoubtable.’

Captain Plonker stirred. ‘Not my fault someone ran out of sea room, and that someone didn’t understand the rules of sailing.’ He glared out of the page at the author.

‘Falling out about it isn’t going to help.’ Anderson sighed and pushed his hair up. ‘How are Reliant and Reprobate?’

‘Well, if you’d been boarded and some dago had chucked a grenade in your powder hold, you might be feeling a little, um, charred.’

‘Salvageable?’

‘Hard to say. Out of action for the foreseeable. We’ve got them into Scarborough and the guns off them.’

‘So, three burnt and two damaged. That was nearly half our strength so we can put that in the report.’

‘As long as you don’t say that the two damaged ran into each other.’

‘I think I might omit that bit. What else can I say?

‘We did damage some of their ships, and quite badly too. That galleass will be in port for a bit, I reckon.’

‘The point is, though, as in the Channel, we can engage them but not really hurt them. If they board us then, well, they have all the soldiers on board. But we’ve got to close to do any damage, and that runs the risk of being boarded.’

‘Well, we had our orders, and they had theirs. They were not going to stop before getting to port, and we couldn’t stop them. They could have taken and kept Reliant and Reprobate, but chose to try to burn them.’

*

I confess to having some difficulty with this battle, namely that I had no suitable rules. Still, necessity is the mother of invention and I invented some, although I did have to revise them rapidly (and restart the game) when it became apparent that the English fleet would never get into range of the Spanish as it was.

The scenario was very simple. The Spanish had to sail intact to Whitby. For each ship that made it, Don Pedro receives a base of reinforcements. The aim of the English is to stop them. As noted before, and above, as the English did not manage to stop the Armada sailing up the Channel in formation, the odds are fairly against them doing much damage to the Spanish.

I am not claiming that the rules are particularly accurate or comprehensive, but they seemed to work for a simple play through. The English passed one squadron to the front of the Spanish, inflicting some damage as they went. The bulk of the English passed the other side (on the opposite tack) and the near most squadron had a go. The Spanish sailed on and the English had to turn about and give chase. This is the point at which I messed up the distances and two English ships hit each other.

The chase continued.



 The Spanish are in the top left of the photograph, heading for the port which is out of the picture to the further left. The rest of the English are in the foreground and scattered to the right, except for one unfortunate galleon which was in line with the galleass, hit by gunfire and boarded. The Spanish decided against taking a prize and set it alight. In the top right are the entangled English ships.

The English did catch the Spanish again, but the exchanges were indecisive until the galleass and a Spanish great ship managed to close with a squadron bravely sailing into the midst of the remains of the Spanish formation. This did not end well again, with two more English ships boarded and aflame, while the Spanish sailed on (or limped on, in the case of the galleass and great ship). The English, not realizing how badly damaged they were, and having five ships hors de combat themselves, decided to quit and face the Queen’s wrath.



The picture shows the end of the action, with two more English ships alight and really only two English ships able and in the right place to fight further. The action was an interesting afternoon or so. The English manoeuvring was terrible; Spanish tactics, to keep in formation and sail for the port were simpler and easier. It is actually very hard, even with my simple-minded rules, to aim at a moving target – you tend to miss.  I suppose I had better write the rules up sometime.

*

‘Don Carlo, my lord’

Don Pedro scrambled to his feet. ‘Carlo! Well met my friend!’

‘Pedro. We came as soon as we could. We landed only yesterday.’

‘Your men are ashore already?’

‘No, my friend. They are landing as we speak, I trust. I came to consult with you, and share a glass of this.’ Don Carlo brandished a bottle. ‘Rioja. Only the best for my friend the Generalissimo.’

'At last, a decent drink. You can only get stuff that they call "beer" here. It is disgusting. Particularly the next morning.'

As they drank, Don Pedro filled Carlo in on the situation. ‘So, we have got to this point where the road goes north and south. The hills are too steep for the army, and York is south, so that is the aim.’

‘York?’

‘It is the administrative centre for the north of the country. If we take it the English may be forced to negotiate. Anyway, we’ve heard that the Scots are on their way, about to cross the border, so we need to hold this bridge on the road north.’

‘Are there no others?’

‘That is the first bridge over the river; there’s another one further up; we have to hope the Scots don’t know that.’

‘Is that likely?’

‘Well, it is sufficiently far away that any force blocking the bridge here should be able to turn and prevent them marching south.’

‘And that is what you want me to do?’

‘With the help of God, yes. March your men straight there. I will supply guides.’

Don Carlos stared at the sketch. ‘Very well. But if you get to York I am coming south to share in the glory!’


‘Let us drink to that time, my friend.’

Saturday, 8 September 2018

Coldingham Combat

King James sat and stared into the tankard that had just been reverently placed before him. Divine Right of Kings was one thing, he thought. Drinking this might enable him to meet his maker sooner rather than later. He was sure that something had moved down there.

Nevertheless, he raised the cup to his lips and sipped. He caught the proprietor’s eye and smiled. She relaxed and more tankards of the stuff were produced for the courtiers, captains and general hangers on.

It had, overall, been a good day. If you have to fight, James mused, it is as well to fight and win. The lancers had done well. The Borderers had done badly. He must look into the background of the captains. On the other hand, the rebel’s Border horse had also run away. Perhaps they had colluded. It would not be without precedent.

Without thinking about it he took a swig of beer. Actually, for a provincial tavern, it was not too bad. And anyway, he was still alive. Someone, now residing at his pleasure in Edinburgh Castle, had pointed out to him that both his grandfather and great-grandfather had died as a result of fighting the English. Maybe that bit of family history was over. Mind you, he had been fighting his own people rather than the English, here, and he was going to help his cousin’s forces.

Another resident of Edinburgh Castle had also inquired whether the price for his intervention was going to be the freedom of his mother. James was not entirely sure that Mary would still be alive. If it were him on the throne of England, she would have died years ago. Elizabeth, he knew, was a lot less sanguine than he was about killing monarchs. Perhaps that was the English way; few enough Scottish kings had died in their beds in recent centuries.

‘Sire, my Lord Maxwell craves a meeting.’

‘Maxwell? Is he alive?’

‘We found him in the stream, my lord. He is a bit wounded and very muddy.’

‘Throw a couple of buckets of cold water over him and bring him in.’

A few minutes later there was a commotion at the door, and Lord Maxwell, sometime rebel and defeated general was hauled in, dripping mud and water on the floor.

‘I protest! I am a Lord of the Realm. You cannot treat me like this!’

James sighed. ‘Maxwell, I can treat you however I like. You need to come up with a very good reason for your behaviour today.’

‘I am trying to save the realm! We are sunk in iniquity and have turned away from God and his church! I would stop you from making the greatest mistake, aiding the heretic against the armies of God! Repent of your sins and the sins of the nation. Return to the true faith. Aid the Spanish and their crusade to root out this heresy.’

‘Maxwell, you sound like a Protestant preacher, not a Catholic rebel. Be quiet, or I shall silence you myself.’

‘What shall we do with the rebel, sire?’

‘I suppose we shall have to do something. Chain him up and send him to the Castle. I will decide later.’

‘Do you have orders for the army, sire?’

‘Yes. They are to camp on the other side of the stream this evening. We continue our march south tomorrow. And send as much beer out to them as the burgh has.’

*
As you can probably surmise, the royalists won the day at Coldingham. To refresh your memory (it is a while since the scenario was posted; I had to paint 12 bases of Scottish infantry before playing it), the battlefield is below.



  
The rebels enter from the right, the King’s forces from nearest the camera, the north, and aim to exit on the road to the south. The key point is Coldingham Burgh, of course, with the old priory (taken over as the parish church) to the left.

While aware of each other’s presence, the two armies are not deployed. The rebels had the slightly shorter march to Coldingham and so arrived first. The initial contact looked like this.


 Both sides put their cavalry first, and the initial clash went the rebel’s way, but the King’s heavier cavalry put paid to their opponents, including the rebel general (who survived two goes at him, but succumbed when his Border horse base fled).

General-less the rest of the rebel army struggled to deploy and only the musketeers managed to enter Coldingham, while the highlanders guarded the stream. James deployed his men  in a relatively leisurely manner, and heavy musket fire broke out in the village, while the lancers entered it from the east. The rebel infantry was very stubborn, yielding only slowly to musket fire and charges from the lancers. The highlanders attempted to storm the stream but, after initial success (highlanders do not rate well in these rules, and attacking across a stream is bad news anyway) were defeated. This broke the morale of the rebel army.



The picture shows the final positions. The King’s cavalry and musketeers are in control of the village, and one of the highlander bases is routing (by the measuring stick). One rebel musketeer base is still extant, having retreated across the stream. The rebel pikes have not managed to deploy. The rebel dice throwing was interesting, to say the least, and they rarely had any tempo points left over to do anything, like deploy.

Overall, it was a good and interesting game. I thought it was all over after the initial cavalry clash, but the Scottish musketeers did prove very stubborn, benefiting from the cover of the burgh and holding out for a good number of turns, even if they were not deployed (and so could not shoot back).


Anyway, King James continues his march south. Now I have to invent some suitable naval rules and see if Don Pedro obtains any reinforcements.

Saturday, 1 September 2018

Don’t Bother to Read This Post….


…as it is about naval wargaming. And most people are not interested in naval wargames.

However, because I have a digital camera and it was charged up and in the same room as the wargame, I took some pictures. As a matter of record for my narrative ancients campaign, if not for anyone else’s edification, I am going to talk about it here.

You might recall the scenario. Young Alexander IV is set on invading Carthage, and then working his way around the Western Mediterranean via the rest of North Africa, Spain, Southern France and Italy, doing for that region what his father did for the East. First of all he has to gain a foothold in Africa itself. Curtius reports Alexander III as ordering ships to be built for the invasion. I suppose going overland was not that attractive and, even if it were, it would require a fleet to support the army.

Anyway, the Carthaginians were not going to take being invaded lying down and, in this narrative, have a navy. In terms of the scenario, the Macedonians have 25 merchant ships and 25 quinquiremes. Each merchant ship which beaches at the far end of the table means the land army has a base. Every two quinquiremes that beach also add a base, so there is a possible 37 base land army in the offing.

The Carthaginians have 25 triremes and 5 penteconters. The idea of the penteconters was to scout and disrupt the Macedonian fleet and be the last line of beach defence. Well, we can dream, can’t we?

Anyway, the initial moves looked like this:



The Macedonians are heading to the beach. The Carthaginian penteconters are deploying at the far end. The first of the Carthaginian squadrons have entered right and the merchants (with the sails) have moved left away from them. The Carthaginian squadrons, incidentally, entered on a roll of 6 on 1D6 and appeared in one of the six squared along the right-hand edge of the table.

I realised at this point that I was to have around 80 ships on the table at a time and that there was no way I was going to be able to keep track of all the individual seamanship ratings and orders for all of them, let along control anything when the fighting got messy. Some quick averaging of seamanship rolls meant that everyone landed up with a three. Given the nature of the combat (everyone started off in line ahead), I decided that the initiative of the individual captains would be more important, and abandoned command points.

Well, things did get messy. Very messy indeed. There were ships all over the place; at the end one-third of the remaining Macedonian merchant ships were sailing full speed away from the beach, attempting to get away from Carthaginian triremes. The endpoint is below:



As I said, chaos had more or less ensued. I did find a few interesting tactical issues, however. The blank bases indicate sinkings – there were a few more than what is shown, actually, because I ran out of counters. One issue was the use of sunk ships as cover to avoid being attacked. Both sides made use of this rather well. Several merchant ships, in particular, managed to survive because there was a sunk ship between them and the enemy.

The other issue was the difficulty of triremes taking on quinquiremes. The initial combat between two squadrons, one from each side, went overwhelmingly to the bigger ships. To some extent, this justifies the increased size of vessels during the Hellenistic period. On the other hand, they became less manoeuvrable and I suspect, less seaworthy. Navies were prestige items (and to some extent, still are).

Still, the Macedonians managed to land 16 merchant ships and had 17 quinquiremes left at the end of the battle. This means that Alexander’s army now consists of 24 elements with which to take on Carthage and her allies.


Saturday, 25 August 2018

What is Military History?

As I have mentioned before, one book tends to lead to another. After reading the account of the Nine Years War I mentioned a while ago, this book seemed to follow fairly naturally. The discussion of ‘Drums and Trumpets’ military history sparked me to find out what historians actually think military history is. I confess, having read some bits of military history for a while, the answers, at least for the influence of early modern military history, did not entirely surprise me.

Anyway, I obtained a copy of:

Morillo, S., Pavkovic, M. F., What Is Military History? (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2018).

This is the third edition of the text; I suspect the second author (credited with a ‘with’) did some of the updating, but nevertheless, there is a degree of confidence when a textbook runs to more than one edition. Not only that, it is a remarkably recently published book for something I have read.

The answer to the question is, mostly, ‘unpopular’. Academia does not particularly like talking, thinking, researching and investigating warfare. After something of a golden age – it is noted that Delbruck, Oman and even Creasey’s Fifteen Decisive Battles of the Western World are still in print, which is rather remarkable for works over 100 years old in all cases and 150 in the case of Creasey. The issue is rather in Creasey’s title, however: what does a decisive battle entail?

Now, the unpopularity of a subject, the ‘yuck’ factor if you like, should not stop us from working on it as historians. After all, the world needs historians of the Holocaust, for example, even though I doubt if any historian (or most other right-minded people) would consider the Holocaust to be a good or popular thing. War is, apparently for humans, inevitable, but a generation of historian grew up in the middle of the twentieth century who had political and ideological objections to studying war.

The study of warfare was therefore relegated to popular history (where it does sell) and professional academies. It has had to rather creep out of the margins to take academic history from, as it were, the flanks. Thus we have some interesting ideas floating around which might have their origin in considering warfare, but which reach much further than that, thus making them acceptable to mainstream history.

The ‘New’ military history started with ‘war and society’ studies. This is the idea that warfare, or specifically armies reflect, in their organisation, the societies from which they spring. As some of you might know from browsing such works, something that looks interesting from a wargaming point of view turns out to elide the very function of the army under study. ‘Armies were recruited, organised, fed, paid, and sent home; they sometimes marched, but they never fought.’ (p. 43). So new military history failed to actually examine how these organisations did the job for which they existed.

John Keegan’s Face of Battle also changed the game rather. This, as I’m sure you know, focussed on the experience of the common soldier. There are now plenty of studies of this sort of genre, even though, for many eras, actually figuring out what the experience of the common soldier was is a bit tricky. By the very fact that they were common, not a huge quantity of information about them is extant. Nevertheless, for a wargamer these studies are more useful. Goldsworthy’s The Roman Army at war 100 BC – 200 AD certainly helped me writing Polemos: SPQR.

Next up, the publication of Geoffrey Parker’s The Military Revolution: Military Innovation and the Rise of the West, 1500-1800 had a huge impact. I am pleased to say that it sits on my bookcase, as I brought it when it came out. Parker is, of course, an eminent historian and he got attention. His thesis is twofold. Firstly, he argued that warfare was an important factor in creating the early modern state, and secondly that technology in the west, applied to warfare, enabled the start of expansion. This stimulated the ‘military revolution’ debate, of course, but non-military historians had to engage with Parker’s thesis. Military history had, sort of, gone mainstream.

The currents in military history are, therefore, broadly away from battles and campaigns and towards social, political and cultural history. Military history, by abandoning battles, has been brought much closer to mainstream historiography. Whether this is much use to us as wargamers is a bit of a moot point, of course.

The chapter ‘Current Controversies’ extends some of these comments. First up is the military revolution debate itself. I will not go into the detail but more or less every claim of Parker’s thesis has been questioned and contested. Not only that, but many more military revolutions have been identified both across time and across the world. So many revolutions have been found that it seems to me that the original idea has become rather lost rather than answered. Of course, most of the issue revolves around your precise definition of ‘revolution’.

The second controversy is around counter-insurgency. This shows the ties of military history to current events and the military in various countries. These studies might be of interest to the wargamer but mostly, of course, we prefer battles than skirmishes. So far as I can tell, counter-insurgency operations are more suited to role-playing games than wargames.

Third up is the question of ‘western exceptionalism’, which was pushed back to the Greeks by Victor Davis Hanson’s The Western Way of War: Infantry Battle in Classical Greece. This was (and was developed into) a provocation. The argument is simple enough: the Greeks sought decisive battles characterised by face-to-face combat. This is a characteristic of western combat and led to the triumph of western civilisation (although, in my view, it is open to Gandhi's response, that the latter would be a good idea).

There are, of course, many other bits within the volume, most of which are interesting. For example, given my recent griping about naval wargaming, the question is posed as to whether naval history (as opposed to maritime history) is military history. Surprisingly, some people think the answer is ‘no’. That shows something, but I am not sure what.

Still, this is a good book, worth reading if you wonder why you cannot find the order of battle for Rocroi outside a tome about a hundred years old.



Saturday, 18 August 2018

Go East Young Man

As the regular reader (and there is only one, especially given that it is August and everyone seems to be on holiday) of the blog will know, I have been digging out old soldiers and rebasing them. Overall, it has been a slightly strange experience. Some bases I have pulled out of their drawers (I mean storage, of course. Stop that snickering in the corner), and greeted like old friends. I have not seen them, I would estimate, for over 15 years, and yet I know exactly who they are, what they are and how they behave. Others, of course, I have to sit and puzzle over, and, occasionally, resort to my army lists (DBR 100 AP armies) to establish exactly what the troop type might be.

The first fruits of the rebasing project are now finished and downstairs in the snug. These are the Poles and the Muscovites. The point of the project is not just to rebase all these toy soldiers. Remarkably, for me at least, the idea is to have a few wargames as well. Thus, the creative juices of the wargamer were set to devise a scenario with narrative potential involving the aforementioned armies, namely early modern Poles and Muscovites. Fortunately, as any wargamer will know, these two armies spent a fair bit of the early modern era at war.

The upshot was as follows.



 The picture shows the edge of a recently built Russian town and fort complex, Tsarputinsberg and part of its outer defences. The garrison consists mostly of expendable ‘Western’ mercenaries that are armed as conventional pike and shot. These are operating the heavy cannon in the earthworks and providing a base of arquebusiers as back up.

The building of the fort and town has not gone unnoticed, and it has been under fairly desultory siege by a Polish Commonwealth army for a while. Tsarputinsberg, therefore, could do with some resupply, and you can see the convoy on the road. It is escorted by a Muscovite army consisting of mounted Boyar cavalry, some infantry (including a couple of bases of Streltsi) and a few Cossacks. The convoy consists of 14 bases of assorted wagons, pack horses and mules.

Naturally, the Poles would prefer that the convoy did not arrive, and so have moved some of the besieging army around the defences to intercept it. They have just broken cover, to the left, the Hussars (far end) and Pancerni (middle distance) riding over the hill in the best traditions of Taras Bulba. Actually, in the best tradition of the only bit,I think I remember of the film, which consisted of (I suspect) Yul Brenner waving forward a long line of Cossacks over a hill to charge, well, someone. Memory does not serve as to whom, and although I have read the book (which isn’t great, as I recall, although 19th Century Russian literature is not my thing) is, I suspect, rather different from the film.

Anyway, the Polish plan is to block the road just out of artillery range of the fort with the war wagons (you cannot have an early modern Polish army without war wagons and Hussars, now, can you?) supported by the infantry you can see in the left foreground. Meanwhile, the cavalry will attack down the hill, seize the convoy and all will be well with the world. The Muscovite plan is to block the Pole for long enough for at least half the convoy to get to safety.

I do not know if it is just me, my rule or wargaming more generally, but ambushes are very difficult for the defender to succeed at. I noted before that under my Polemos: SPQR rules the only way I had found for the Gauls to win was to ambush the Romans. The same sort of thing happened here.



The picture shows the battlefield at the end of the game. You can see that parts of the convoy have been captured and the rest will shortly follow. To the right are the fleeing remnants of the central block of Boyars. Even if the Muscovites had held on a bit longer, it does not look as though any of the supplies will get through.

So, what happened? If you look closely you will see that the Hussars have not moved, and nor have the far block of Muscovite cavalry. This amused me no end. The Hussars, as we know, are the original class ‘A’ loonies under the Gush WRG rules, or ‘T1M1’ under Tercio. The sort of troops I could never afford on my original schoolboy wargaming budget. Here, they pick up a plus one in the rules for being self-proclaimed elite troops, and another plus one for being uphill of the enemy.

An awful lot in the rules depends on timing, seizing the tempo at the right moment to get your charge in. The Muscovites did that and the central block (together with the general, who went down fighting) bravely charged uphill, outnumbered, at the Polish pancerni and, after a swirling cavalry action, lost, as you can see. The Boyar at the far end quite sensibly, in my view, refused to charge the Hussars uphill. In the Polish bound, rather to my surprise, the Hussars refused to charge the Boyars, even though they are elite and were uphill. Dice can be odd things at times. The Muscovites were quite happy with this result, as you can imagine. Presumably, the Hussars did not want to get their lances dirty, or something.

Anyway, that situation lasted for the whole game – the Hussars failed to charge at least three times. As you can see, even at the end of the game, the stand-off continued. The battle was won and lost in the middle, where the Muscovites fought bravely but numbers usually tell in cavalry actions and they were always outnumbered.

As a scenario it was rather fun, but ambushes do seem a little one-sided. I could have moved the road further away from the hills, but I suspect that would have only delayed the result. Perhaps the Russian deployment was a bit flakey; I could have got the infantry into action sooner if they had been deployed within the convoy, rather than at the front. But then the war wagons would probably have blocked the road, so again, I am not sure.


Anyway, next time, the mercenary garrison had better try to break itself out for the place.

Saturday, 11 August 2018

Alexander Again

Never let it be said that I am unwilling to flog a dead horse, or to disturb a sleeping dog. As those of you who read it may have noticed from the last post, my thoughts are turning towards Macedon again, and the escapades of Alexander III, sometimes known as ‘the Great’.

Specifically, I have been reading:

Anson, E. M., Alexander the Great: Themes and Issues (London: Bloomsbury, 2013).

This is by a scholar of the man himself, and, as the title implies, looks at some of the more disputed and controversial bits of historiography related to Alexander and his times.

The first thing to note is that Anson thinks that alexander obtained the ‘the Great’ bit fairly early after his death, although as someone noted the last time I discussed this, the first reference to this is in Plautus, the Roman comedic playwright (p. 1). However, Anson argues that the Greeks gave him this name for conquering the Persian Empire, not for being generally great. After all, Anson also notes, Alexander has been characterised in a number of ways in the historiography: ‘The Pretty Good’, ‘The Downright Awful’, a paranoid, a drunkard, someone in constant competition with an assassinated father, and with an Oedipal complex. He has also been seen as a civiliser, and the cause, at least, of mass murder. Here, at least, is a complex historical character.

The wargamer will probably be most attracted to Chapter 2 of the book, which deals with the reign of Phillip II and the rise of Macedon. This discusses the many changes which Phillip seems to have wrought in Macedon itself, not least in reforming the army. Originally, the Macedonian state had been barely a state at all, just a bunch of nobles owning land and acting as companions to the king. Phillip started to win battles and, hence, land, which he distributed not just to nobles but to others who became a burgeoning ‘middle class’, who owed their status, and hence were loyal, to the king. This was the core of the Macedonian infantry.

Anson notes that the sarissa was introduced very early in Phillip’s reign. As a defensive weapon is required much less training than the hoplite panoply and it was cheaper, although Phillip’s income increased rapidly after 356. Middle class Greeks could keep their panoply, but native Macedonians were pastoralists and tenant farmers who could not. The indications are, according to Anson, that Phillip had an independent command before his brother’s death at the hand of the Illyrians in 359, and may have started using the sarissa then (p. 49).

The other innovation Phillip implemented was the foot companions, the pezhetairoi or hypaspists. These could serve as sarissa armed phalagites of be equipped for hand to hand combat, a 15 to 18 foot long pike not being ideal for that. It was these troops that Alexander took in fast moving situations.

There is no evidence that Phillip had a ‘master plan’, but, after a little bit of pushing and shoving in Greece, must have realised that seizing mastery of Greece was a possibility. The question was what to do next, and that had to be something to unite the Greeks. The answer, as we all know, was the invasion the Persian Empire. This was a pan-Hellenic ideal, to punish Persia for the damage to Greek temples and other involvement in Greece over the centuries. Of course, other aims were involved: Persia was reported to be a plunderer’s paradise; some saw the war as a good way to get rid of Phillip, as he was unlikely to return, and so on.

The question is then to what extent did Alexander simply land up in the fortunate position of having domination over Greece, and good army and a bridgehead in Asia, compared to his own ability to conquer the Persian Empire? As with most questions in history, this one can be argued either way. No doubt Phillip left him in a strong position, but he did have to take the initiative and, of course, win the battles.

Other chapters in the book deal with interesting, but less wargame related material. The fist discusses to what extent the Macedonian army became a democracy, focussing on the meetings of the army in Alexander’s later years, the ‘mutiny’ refusing to go further into India, and responses to the death of the king. There is an interesting chapter of Alexander’s deification – how much he thought he was actually a living god by the end of his life, and whether this fitted into Greek of Persian patterns of humans, heroes and gods. It is around these issues that many people start to wonder whether Alexander was of sound mind, but perhaps we do not understand the classical mind-set sufficiently to judge.

The other interesting chapter for the wargamer is Chapter 5, which discusses Alexander’s kingdom of Asia. This observes that the conquests after the fall of the Persian Empire had to fit a different rhetoric to the theme of punishment. Conquest became the idea. Alexander often confirmed in place the rulers of places he conquered, such as Porus. He was interested in conquering stuff, not really forming an empire. Further, he started to recruit Persians into the army, and Persian practices into the court. This caused a lot of dissent from the Macedonians who, as we all know, largely wanted to go home.

In terms of the campaign I mentioned last week, however, it would seem that the army that would be used against Carthage would consist, at least in part, of Persian troops, some armed in Macedonian fashion (Persians were recruited into the Companion cavalry, for example) but presumably some using their traditional weapons and tactics. Once a horse archer, I suppose, always a horse archer, or at least, you are useful enough to be employed as a horse archer, rather than retrained as a phalangite, for example.  


So, this is an interesting, scholarly, book, with a good bibliography of references to follow up upon. The question not answered, of course, is the one stated up front: was Alexander mad, bad, great, a god or just lucky?

Saturday, 4 August 2018

Another Start?

His ambitions knowing no bounds, Alexander had decided that, after the subjugation of the entire eastern seaboard, he would head from Syria towards Africa, because of his enmity to the Carthaginians. Then, crossing the Numidian deserts, he would set his course for Gades, where the Pillars of Hercules were rumoured to be; afterwards he would go to Spain (which the Greeks called ‘Hiberia’, after the river Hiberus). Then he would skirt past the Alps and the Italian coastline, from which it was a short passage to Epirus.

Accordingly, Alexander instructed his governors in Mesopotamia to cut timber on Mt. Libanus, transport it down to the Syrian city of Thapasacus, and there lay down kneels for 700 ships. These were septemremes, which were to be transported to Babylon. The kings of Cyprus were instructed to furnish bronze, hemp and sails.

Quintus Curtius Rufus, The History of Alexander (London: Penguin, 2001), 10.1.17-19.

The question of whether Alexander III of Macedon was great or not is one I want to leave aside here; I will probably come back to it in due course. But the interest here is in wargaming, and I note that I do now have a variety of wargame armies for the classical period which are hanging around not doing all that much. This seems to me to be a shame, especially, as I noted a few posts ago, I now have a perfectly adequate table for 20 base armies, even roughly doubled ones and a more recent penchant for narrative campaigns.

By a narrative campaign, I mean one which is basically storytelling with dice. My Armada campaign (which is ongoing, in case you are worrying about Don Pedro and his men) is one such. I have no rules for the campaign – it is all made up as I go along. There are no messengers, logistics, particular anxieties about communications and politics and so on. All of these things, in my experience, slow a wargame campaign down and eventually bring it to a stop.

As examples, I can refer to the various campaigns I have mentioned on this blog. 1618-Something eventually became bogged down in accountancy and communicating with players in a big game. Fuzigore got bogged down because I was trying to keep records of who had fallen out with whom. Greece 360 BC got bogged down because while I was engrossed in a mini-campaign of the Persians trying to clear an island of its piratical inhabitants (who had some Athenian support, but the Athenians were trying very hard to avoid admitting that they were there) I forgot about all the communications, alliances and timetables for raising troops that were going on.

The upshot of all this is that while I very much like the idea of connected wargames, campaigns and so on, the whole Tony Bath is not for me.  I am sure that there are some people who like the idea of spending an afternoon working out the accounts for each state in their game, but it is not for me. I have to cut my wargame coat to match the cloth I have, which is a disinterest in minutiae.

Nevertheless, I do like verisimilitude. Some of the recent posts have tried to indicate that the Abbeys Campaign is a realistic one, in the sense that it was not beyond the boundaries of possibility to have happened. The troops are not entirely fantasy (although the adequate painting of them by yours truly is more a result of hope than reality). The tensions which the activities of the sides uncover are, at least to some extent and with a broad brush-stroke while not examining history too closely, correct for the times. In short, as a story, I can claim ‘It might have happened’.

Now, this is where we switch back to all those classical armies and the opening quote from Curtius Rufus. The words are from book ten, which as I am sure you all know, is towards the end. Alexander III is about to pop his clogs, and we all know what happened then: the successors fell out among themselves. But what if history had taken a marginally different course?

The possibilities are, of course, boundless, but I will take a slightly conservative one. Alexander had ranged across the eastern part of the known world. The quote from Curtius suggests he was about to turn west, first target Carthage. What would have happened if his son, Alexander IV, had been a bit older (at the time of Alexander III’s death he was minus three months)?
*
The generals looked sternly at the young man. The only woman in the room smiled at him encouragingly ‘Go on Alex,’ she said, ‘tell them’.

Alexander unfolded the square of papyrus. ‘This,’ he said, ‘is my father’s will.’ The older men looked expectantly at him. ‘He says that the empire is to be held together by me as his successor, with your support. And he also says that we, together and in unity, are to carry out his plans, which he sets out under his seal.’

‘What are his plans?’

‘We are to capture Carthage and then establish a port at the Pillars of Hercules. And then we are to capture Spain and the Greek cities of the coast.’

‘What about the barbarian lands?’

‘There is no mention of them, but I suppose that he would expect us to found cities in the regions, as he did in India.’

‘What then? We will have conquered the world.’

‘Only when we can walk from Alexandria to Eprius both ways around the sea may we rest.’

‘You are not your father, lad.’

‘No, Perdiccas, I am not. But I am my father’s son and none may deny it. This is his will, and I intend, with you, to execute it.’
*

And so there you have another start to a campaign, a fairly simple one, the aim being only world domination. The first action, I imagine, is going to be a naval landing outside Carthage, or maybe a full blown naval battle as the invasion force attempt to land. As with all campaigns, a decisive defeat for the Macedonians will spell the end of it. The only other thing I have to work out is how to include my Indian armies.