Battle in the snow (1)

El Bruc, 8^th December 1713

At dawn, all regiments were already in position behind the trench. The Queen Catherine English volunteers stood in the middle of the line, with the girls of Fiona McGregor Regiment just at their left. Both regiments blocked side by side the winding path of the road toward Barcelona. That would be the primary target of the enemy, no doubt.

Nervous, young Foix de Rovellats looked all around. The girls of her regiment were also visibly nervous, but still steady. To their right, those hardened English veterans were phlegmatically awaiting the battle start, motionless as statues in red. Only some sporadic smoke cloud flowed up at regular intervals from a pipe.

With the daylight, some movement down in the snowy valley could be perceived. Foix trembled: the enemy was already formed too, in a huge line of 3 battalions deep. "What are they expecting?", she asked to herself.

She was soon given an abrupt response, under form of cannon roar. Guns! The Spaniards had deployed on the hills ahead up to three field batteries, as well as some huge siege cannons --that now started firing all at once. The projectiles hissed and beat the Catalan defenses at so an endless cadence, that she believed would get stunned. "Hold your positions!" --someone shouted, she herself perhaps. In spite of the call, she would gladly be the first one to panick and run away.

Bombing continued endlessly for over an hour until, suddenly, a deafening lucky impact opened a gap in the positions of the Englishmen, so that projectiles begun impacting among their ranks --but those hardened men held position nevertheless. Encouraged, Foix shouted again to her girls: "Stay! Stay and keep the line!"

Then a terrible explosion threw her to ground, along with all the girls around. A gap! Those enemy damned guns had opened another gap, now at their own position!

Between one explosion and the next one, Foix happened to glimpse the snowy plain stretching ahead. The enemy had already covered half the distance to their trenches, and had begun to climb the slope --at least three battalions strong. When she was finally able to distinguish their flags, Foix nearly fainted: Guards! Two battalions of the Spanish Guard were advancing straightly toward them, followed by McAuliff's Irishmen!

Suddenly pale, Foix de Rovellats whispered: "Fix bayonets". Miraculously, the girls heard that.

Bittersweet victory

Gerri de la Sal, 7^th December 1713

[On last weekend it was fought the first battle of this turn, by the gaming group of Lleida city, who so kindly have offered themselves before for other proxy battles.

[This time, they had volunteered for gaming the ambush of General Moragues' Mountain Fusiliers over a Walloon battalion lead by Marquis of Bus, in a remote Pyrenean valley half buried in snow.

[This is their battle report]

A priest blessing the Miquelets

The trap about to close

Suddenly, the thunderous cracking of a musketry volley tore with violence the hitherto so calm, silent valley. That very first volley proved quite unsuccessful, as a matter of fact; but a lucky shot hit the officer leading the Walloon scouting vanguard, making his men to leave the road in disorder for some cover. Contrarily, the bulk of the battalion behind managed to keep order and formed a line to repel enemy fire.

Starting volley

First casualties

The Spanish rearguard forming a line

A furious exchange of musketry fire starts

After a pityless exchange of fire, another lucky shot hits the Spanish second-in-command, this making about one third of the battalion to flee. At the opposite side of battlefield though, things start going differently. Demoralized by the Walloons' steady fire, part of the Catalan Miquelets also fall back from their positions, so starting a ruthless retreat too. Trying to restore order in the deserting ranks, General Moragues is close to being swept away by his own men.

Spanish rout

Some Miquelets also rout

Taking advantage of the Catalan momentary loss of control, a second Walloon formation rapidly decides to withdraw in good order before the enemy leadership is restored --thus avoiding anihilation. Unable of doing so too, the Walloon foremost detachment choses to surrender.

In the end, the balance for the Catalan side is:
Starting force: 30
Casualties: 2
Routing: 9

And, for the Spanish side:
Starting force: 30
Casualties: 9
Captured/Disbanded: 15 --including the Spanish commander, Marquis of Bus
Successfully exiting the field: 6 --with no senior command

[And this weekend, an actually big battle, to be fought by ourselves. The mother of all battles, I'd say --well, some malicious propaganda actually, for demoralizing those damned stubborn Galateans, hehehe...]

Gascony

Tarbes, 7^th December 1713

Thankfully holding the bowl of warm soup between her hands, she looked all around. That small guesthouse close to Tarbes was pretty quiet, with almost no guests apart from themselves. "That is good", she told to herself, "for we'll finally be able to rest a whole night on a bed".

She thoughtfully glanced at the table next to theirs own, where her Catalan and German bodyguards were devouring their meals in silence, disguised as simple lackeys and grooms. They looked pretty fatigued, after several days and nights of ceaseless march along the snowy road. It was then that the young lady sitting by her asked:

--Lisette? --Such was her agreed name during their journey across upper Gascony. It wasn't advisable by any means she was called by her true name, Elisenda.

--Yes I'm here, Claire --she smoothly answered while getting back to reality.

--You look worried --Claire said, as if diagnosing Elisenda-- Still concerned by our good corsairs' fate? Don't anymore. Their captain is cunning enough for having fooled King Philip's warships one way or another. Such has been his way of life for years, you know?

Elisenda replied in a tired voice: --Perhaps I'm concerned for these corsairs, true. But for our own exhausted escorts too, and for my Nation's fate right now, while I'm resting here... or it's just that I'm scared dead for myself.

--Please stand strong a few days else, Lisette. We're close to Perpignan. Once there, you'll be able to hold firm the reigns of your destiny again.

--Perpignan? Too a long roundup.

--Oh no, Lisette!! --Claire looked alarmed and exasperated-- Are you still thinking of...?

--Crossing the Pyrenees across Aran Valley, sure --Elisenda's voice sounded unexpectedly sharp.

Ambush in the White

Gerri de la Sal, 6^th December 1713

As fast as the thick snow layer allowed him, the scout hurried close to the high officer leading the column.

--We've got them, Sire! --he whispered while puffing--. Down there, in the valley.

General Moragues ordered his men to halt and keep silence, and then he followed the scout to the designed observation place, not far from there. The man was right: down in the valley a long military column winded northwards along the tortuous road, struggling with the snow to progress. He lifted his spyglass and watched. Several hundreds of infantrymen in pearl grey coats. Their flags were rolled around the staffs, but confusion was impossible. "Hum, it's the walloon battalion we had been reported. We've got them indeed, in the worst possible place for them".

--Any screen? --Moragues asked, still watching.

--Just a handful of men preceding the column a hundred yards. Nothing else, Sire. --the scout answered in a grimace.

"Crazy fools", General Moragues told to himself, while lowering the spyglass and looking at the mountainous landscape around. There was little else to watch, so they headed back to the column of Miquelets, who were patiently waiting in silence. Moragues then gathered his officers and simply said:

--I venture this to be a best place for an ambuscade. Wouldn't you agree, gentlemen?

[The unbalanced fighting suggested by this scene is a result of climate effect in our current gaming turn. North of the Principality, the march of a Walloon Infantry Regiment across the Pyrenean valleys has been suddenly cut off by the unexpected snow storm. This has allowed a less harrased battalion of Mountain Fusiliers to reach to them. As no scouting troops are accompanying the Walloons, they are very likely to be caught in a deadly ambush amidst the deep mountain valleys.]

[The gaming scenario itself might well be a narrow depression sorrounded by high mountain, such as the Noguera Pallaresa river valley in the vicinity of Gerri de la Sal town --which lies precisely half-way between Tremp and Sort hexes in our campaign map.]

[Such would be the first battle scenario of this current turn, then.]

Cold spreads

Generality Palace, 5^th December 1713

General Villarroel was the last one to arrive in the hall where the highest level meeting had to take place. There were not only the six ex officio Generality members, but also other distinguished parliamentarians, including the Mayor and the Bishop of Barcelona city. The thick silence reigning among the attendees was anything but a good presage. Alarmed by such silence, Villarroel occupied an empty chair and waited.

After a nervous coughing, President de Solanell finally found the strength to start saying:

--Dear Sirs, I must acknowledge you that His Majesty King Philip V is... ehem... is proposing to begin formal peace talks. The meeting would take place in Cartagena, within two weeks' time.

Deeply uncomfortable, Solanell fixed his attention on King Philip's letter, avoiding to cross gaze with any other of the meeting attendees who, bewildered, looked in turn at each other without daring to say anything either.

It was the Mayor of Barcelona, Sir Rafael de Casanova, who spoke the first. He energetically exclaimed: --It's a damned trap! Let's ignore it, Excellence!

--A request for peace should never be disregarded --Barcelona Bishop calmly replied--. Contrary, I do state the proposal should be immediately accepted.

After some hesitation while, an alarmed Villarroel finally decided to intervene: --Modestly, I do not see the Generality as empowered enough to make such decision alone. It should be agreed before with Princess Elisenda who, as you know, was entitled the Crown of this Principality by His Imperial Majesty...

--So, don't you know that...? --the Military Deputy Francesc de Berenguer asked.

--According to Spanish military reports, the ship carrying Princess Elisenda back home was sunk last week in Basque waters. --it was Lord Antoni de Peguera, a Nobiliary Deputy, who had spoken. His voice sounded calm, but the gaze he crossed with Villarroel denoted true panic.

Villarroel stayed frozen mute. Silence reigned again over the hall, and again it was Casanova who broke the curse: --I do agree with General Villarroel. This Government isn't entitled enough for taking such decision.

The alluded looked back to him in surprise. How could the "Busca" Republican Party leader agree with him in this circumstance? Then Casanova continued: --May we have lost a Crown, but there is still a Parliament, which is entitled enough to take a decision. Let's call the Parliament, then.

"So it was", Villarroel quietly told to himself.

Snowfall

Catalonia, 4^th December 1713

As a prelude to the coming winter, the snow made early appearance in the first week of December 1713. Snowfall was abundant all through the country, blocking villages and roads even at sea level lands. Together with the previous week heavy rains, the accumulated snow hampered severely movement of troops and supplies all around --thus producing rather unexpected results on the respective military headquarters plans.

The Spanish Army managed to win the initiative, but some of their provided moves were aborted by the bad weather. Such was the case of Marquis of Bus at north, whose walloon regiment was caught by snow in the remote Pyrenean valleys between Tremp and Sort towns. Or that of Duke of Popoli, whose army was barely capable to get more than a few miles closer to the relatively unprotected fortress of Castellciutat, the main Catalan stronghold in the Pyrenees.

The daring attacking manoeuvre of Marquis of Aitona also suffered from some issues, such as the delay of a couple of battalions, that were unable to follow the main column path and had to spend the week in Igualada town. Nevertheless, most of the overall operation ran accordingly enough to the Spanish Commander-in-Chief provisions, so that the Catalan army standing ahead found itself attacked more or less simultaneously by:

• 2 Horse Guards Squadrons, 2 Foot Guards Battalions, 7 Line Infantry Battalions and 2 Dragoons Squadrons by the front;
• as well as 2 Line Cavalry Squadrons flanking them from the left,
• and 2 Dragoons Squadrons did the same by the right.
• Two artillery batteries were to provide the necessary fire support.

Meanwhile, odd news and rumors about the fate of Princess Elisenda began to circulate across the country --especially in Barcelona city, dedicately spread by fifth columnists and enemy agents. Besides, a small cutter flying Spanish flag had managed to sort out both bad weather and Catalan privateers, and anchored in Barcelona harbour carrying a personal message of King Philip V of Spain to the General Deputation President. This made rumours to increase alarmingly.

Lettre de marque (4): Sa Dragonera

Balearic Sea, 20^th November 1713

Captain Ginard, still lost in his thoughts, reached to the galley rumbade and continued with his unhurried pace by one of the gangways around the wooden platform covering the ship main battery. At the opposite side, the five artillery pieces stuck their muzzles out of their respective doors. Young Mateu was sitting astride the central eighteen pounds gun, immersed in practicing a complicate knot with an arm long piece of rope. Ginard sat himself over one of the six pounds gun, removed his hat and pointed his face towards the sun. He allowed himself a few minutes of relaxation, enjoying the pleasant warmth eyes closed.

--"Sa Dragonera". I think we must rename her "Sa Dragonera".

Mateu's suggestion made Ginard smile. Sa Dragonera was a small island in the western Majorca coast. They'd just left it behind little ago. In Majorcan variant of Catalan language, "dragó" was the name given to some types of small lizards. His galley would become a dragons' den, he thought.

--Not a bad name. –-Ginard took the rope from Mateu hands and checked the knot. --Now, dragons are what we need.

--Are we going to recruit crewmen here in Palma, Sir?

--Hmmmm... --Ginard returned the rope back to Mateu and looked to the bow.
--We'll see. First of all, we must meet our mysterious patron.

The Escape (5): triumph in Tremp

Tremp town, 2^nd December 1713

Inside Tremp town, news about the reappearance of local heroin Maria Sauret accompanying General Moragues spread across like a lightning. A crowd gathered in front of the Town Council Hall, demanding for them to be granted access into the town --that had been denied to all troops so far, with disregard of the side, in a naive attempt to keep neutral to all. Hardly pressed by the demonstration, the Major finally consented in allowing access to General Moragues troops.

The sagacious heroin still kept a further ace up her sleeve. Taking advantage of the popular expectation on the arrival of General Moragues' troops, she placed herself heading the column alongside to the General. Once the small army started marching across the town's main street, she suddenly unveiled a flag she had been keeping folded in her bag, and started flying it before the marching troops: it was the Saint Ignatius flag of Lleida City's Militia, preserved from king Philip's confiscation.

Attendants bursted in an unanimous roar, and a number of people joined General Moragues' troops in their march toward the Town Council Hall, as if determined to take it --either by the word, or the sword. Scared at the events, the Major hurried to meet the General and symbolically offered the town keys to him.

The only neutral town in the Principality had finally joined the cause as well.