Another incident in the '45

Or its wet up North....

CAMPAIGN TURN TEN

6^th – 12^th November 1745 – COMBINED.

Alexander McDonald stood in the heather and tall grass on the high ground, south of Loch Gynach overlooking Fort Badenoch, also known as Ruthven Barracks, it was an imposing sight, standing as it does on what is known as Castle Hill.

Keppoch, swayed gently side to side, in time with the damp grass in which he stood, enjoying the sensation of its feel on his bare legs. He knew that this was going to be a tough but to crack, a garrison of some 100 men in that place was a goodly defence.

However, Alexander, was a man with a plan, at present Fort Badenoch – named after the ancient lords of the area, in particular Alexander Stewart, Earl of Buchan who was known as the "Wolf of Badenoch", the younger son of King Robert II of Scotland, who used it as his local base of operations.

Whilst Alexander had a plan, he was a simple man of few words, thus his plan was simple and of few words as well. Summarised as follows:

“Blaw aff th' gates 'n' tell thaim tae gie up or else we'll murdurr ye a'”

The view from this high ground showed that there were three main buildings that made up the fort, all linked by a retaining wall that was looped to allow musket fire out at approaching enemies.

Some 50 yards distant was a separate stable block for officer’s horses and the dragoons when they were in the area.

Some 2-300 yards North and West of the barracks flowed the River Spey,  the ground here was wet and boggy, another 2-300 yards north of the river was the small town of Kingussie. East of the Barracks a small burn runs north to south disappearing into a wooded area and to the South West lay the village of Ruthven.

 

Alexander and his Highland Brigade had been in the area since the night of the 5^th November, having marched north after the Battle of Glasgow Mearns to recruit and display a presence in Jacobite the Highlands.

Time was of an essence, delay would mean that his men would surely be discovered, after a day resting north of Loch Gynach, Alexander and his clan leaders were now putting the finishing touches to their plan.

Mid morning they returned to their men and explained what was going to happen the following night…

At 1:00am on the 7^th November, the Highland Brigade moved out, heading east from their hiding positions before swinging south through Glen Gayniek moving east of the small settlements in the area.

They crossed mile and a half to two miles distance and reached the north bank of the Spey by 3:00am, crossing the Spey and the River Tromie at the Dell of Killihuntly took another hour before they headed west to the Barracks and paused behind a knoll of high ground.

At this stage the Powder Party lead by Gordon McDonald of Kildrummie stepped forwards to complete the final 4-500 yards to the barracks and plant 2 kegs of powder at the Barracks’ main gate. The 10 men, later known as the ‘Ruthen Ten’, snuck forwards towards their goal.

 

Fifteen minutes later Alexander McDonad ordered John Dubh MacKinnon of MacKinnon to take his regiment and provide support for and covering fire on the East Gate of the Bararcks.

At this stage, as narrator, I divert my attention to the garrison at Ruthven at this time. 100 Men, true and good and loyal subjects of his majesty King George.

Life at Ruthven had been dull and even after the fall ad subsequent recapture of Fort William, nothing much had changed here. True Dragoon of Hamilton’s Irish Regiment were coming and going as they scoured the Highlands for stray Jacobites but nothing was really happening for the Garrison troops.

These men were highlanders, who had volunteered for the King’s service and where policing the Highlands in the King’s name. Since the mutiny of the Black Watch, two years ago, they have been forced to wear Government Issue clothing, not their native attire. Many of the men were somewhat older that most regulars and they lived for their daily ration of grog to keep the cold out now that winter was setting in.

 

Last night had been typical, Blue Watch were on duty from Midnight through to 8:00am, 30 men to watch and guard those within the walls of the facility. Six men of each watch were picketed outwith the Barracks to keep an eye on the Stable buildings the other two dozen split into groups to man key points in the Barracks and where stationed at the guard house when half their number would be resting and keeping warm whilst the other twelve performed their  duties, an hour on, an hour off through the night.

 

Thus it was that on a normal night there would be two guards in the Northern Bastion, another two in the Southern Bastion and a further two patrolling individually around the perimeter of the facility.

Gordon McDonald of Kilrdummie and his nine accomplices were now just some 30 yards from the Barrack’s Eastern Gate, it was 15 minutes past five in the morning as Fusilier James Howlett walked past the gate heading towards the corner where he would disappear as his path would take him on to the Southern Bastion. It was a cold light and Howlett was wrapped in a blanket for warmth, he had not noticed anything out of the ordinary this night or any other night that he could remember.

 

As he disappeared around the corner the Ruthven Ten scurried forwards, Gordon McDonald and five others took the two kegs of powder and placed them by the Barrack Gates, fixed fuses and ensured that there was enough length to the that they would get to safety before they blew.

Two men of the ten, moved towards the corners of the barracks to give covering fire if that was needed, should the powder moneys be discovered.

Gordon McDonald worked fast, a former mariner and gunner in the Royal Navy, he was familiar with the use of gunpowder. The pre-cut lengths of fuse were inserted int the barrels and he waved away his comrades as he prepared to light the fuse.

There was a sudden crash of thunder and the heavens opened up as the lighting flashed through the sky. Gordon’s slow match was extinguished almost instantly in the rain. No matter he had a spare match but how to light it?

With time passing he resorted to pulling his pistol from his belt and cocking it, he fired the pistol into the ground whilst holding the match to the pan… it worked and the match ignited. Quickly, Gordon set the fuse alight and retired from the scene.

Fusilier Harry Baldwin had been sure that held head a shot, he was approaching the northern bastion of the barracks and he broke into a run, turning the corner in the rain he thought he saw a man running away from the main gates some 20 yards away. He shouted and called for the man to halt.

Instead two shots rang out from his left, he’d not seen Wee Billy McRory and his brother Jimmy lying prone on the ground. The first shot caught Harry in his left knee, sending him spinning sideways towards the Barracks walls, the second shot hit home just under his now exposed left breast, killing him instantly. He crashed int the wall and slide to the ground as the McRory brothers jumped up and ran eastwards.

In the north bastion the guards men there had been surprised by the sudden clap of thunder outside and grumbled about getting wet when it would be their turn to walk the perimeter. The second clap of thunder was more of a pop, they looked at each other – could it be? Them two more louder pops and they knew that this was not thunder, they scrambled to see what was happening outside and saw two figures running eastwards.

They rang the alarm bell which they were pleased to hear was echoed by the larger bell in the guardroom… Then boom, boom -was that thunder again?!

No, it was two kegs of powder blowing at the Main Gates…

 

Smoke and debris was everywhere, it was still dark, dawn would not be until about 7:45am, the garrison was wake and running to quarters and the Clan McKinnon Regiment eased into their places some 60 yards from the Eastern Gate.

Soon there was activity at the gate, men with torches could be clearly seen, John Dubh MacKinnon ordered his best marksmen to fire at will at the gate, wit the purpose of taking down anyone foolhardy enough to show themselves with a torch or investigate the assumed damage to the gate.

Soon there was return fire from the loophoes in the wall facing the McKinons and from the top of the walls themselves, the fire was steady but sporadic with individuals firing at moving figures in the dark and then theirs returning fire to the flashes. In all this the rain continued to fall.

By morning’s first light Alexander McDonald had come up to view the situation, the McLKinnons were relieved by the McIntoshes, who where much more comfortable fighting in wet weather….

.. and besides had fresh eyes and powder to help quell the Garrisons’ belligerent defenders.

As the ligtening day revealed the damage to the gate, McDonald was impressed:

“Ah thought ye wee ainlie aff tae blaw aff th' bloody gates”, was his comment to his kinsman Gordon.

It was clear the gates were destroyed and the defenders had pieced together a make shift barricade inside the space as best they could. A number of bodies lay in front of the barricade, men lost due to the covering fire since the explosions. The stonework around the gate was damaged and disrupted and was certainly not as sturdy as it should have been, piles of rubble lay strewn across the forecourt area.

Keppoch strode out and called for a parlay  with the garrison Commander Captain Augustus Hamilton, a 46 year old Lowlander in the Hanoverian Service.

Keppoch offered Hamilton the Civilities of War to enable him and his small force to surrender with honour, Hamilton was reluctant to take such a step. By his calculations he might hold on for 2- weeks, and would expect relief from Argyll or Loudon in Inverness.

Keppoch smiled at the man’s bravado and he ordered his officers to reveal his hand, with the McKinnons & McIntoshes these regiments alone outnumbered the garrison five to one. But the on McDonald’s order the accompanying McDonalds and McDonnell Regiments came into view – more than doubling the Jacobite numbers again.

Hamilton wavered and asked for time to consider – McDonald gave him until noon.

At the appointed time the two met again and Hamilton offered McDonald his sword, McDonald refused and handed it back and gave Hamilton 15 minutes to parade his men and prepare to march out of the barracks and head south to Newcastle or Berwick with a letter from Keppoch giving them free passage.

As they left each man was required to give his mark (or signature) to a parole document.

And so by the end of the day on the 6^th November Fort Badenoch, was in Jacobite hands. The Fort was occupied that night by the Highland Brigade who stripped it of all useable goods and supplies. Food, powder and musket balls being prime booty, others took shoes, blankets and coats whilst Keppoch and the Clan leaders slept the night in the Officer’s quarters.

The story of Captain Hamilton’s long and heroic journey south, through hostile territories is for another time and place. This narrator can not do it justice, instead he recommends Hamilton’s own book “Surrender to the Highlander” published some twenty years later, criticised by may for being to racy but still in print, by all accounts…

 

With this more appealing image of Keppoch on mind, we leave him on the morning of the 7^th November ready to leave Badenoch, with his  men around him and with fire brands in their hands. Keppoch hesitated as if to say  I have a cunning plan…. 

Oldhammer Skeleton Plague Cart

I was browsing through eBay the other day - as you do - and I stumbled across an old Warhammer Fantasy model - the Undead Plague Cart. What caught my eye the most was the price being asked for the instances that were there, anything form £49 - £70.

Full details of the model ad how it could be used in Warhammer,
taken from an old White Dwarf Magazine

I was flabbergasted!

What was even more interesting was that I knew I had a copy of this model in a box not far from my workbench - as I have been painting and completing my recent Egyptian Undead Army, so I dug out the model.

Given that I remember paying only a couple of quid for my model some 30+ years ago, I did a little research n the internet and found the following...

Confirmation that the model originally sold for £2.50 in 1989.

Sadly I messed up on the photo of the model in the state that I found it - needless to say it was unbased and the skeletons (human and bovine) were in a gaudy red wash finish. It needed repainting badly!

Also the wheels were literally hanging off the model...

...So I broke it up and drilled out holes to make a new axle for the wheels. I painted the bones with 'Screaming Skull' paint and allowed to dry, the driver was painted in a dark grey and the Cart its-self with a Khaki / Earth finish. 

The renovated Plague Cart, an hour or so work painting and basing and a day's lapsed time...

When dry I gave the bones a Mid-Brown / Dark one wash, the driver's cowl was given a think Nuln Oil wash and the cart and wooden parts took a mid brown wash.

A view of the model from the front - high lightimg the cowled driver

Once all the washes were dry the model was glued together and to the base, the given a matt varnish finish, the base was then finished with fine sand and then static grass was applied and grass tufts added to taste.

The Grizzly bit, contents of the cart

I then put the model onto eBay with an initial bid price of £43.75 and sat back to wait and see what would happen!

Final Model view

An incident in the '45

Or the Great Gorbals Raid....

CAMPAIGN TURN TEN

6^th – 12^th November 1745 – COMBINED.

As a young officer Colonel James Gardiner, of the 13th Dragoons,  was equally notorious for his foul language and licentious lifestyle, as well as his valiant and adventurous activities during the Marlburian Wars. However, one night in July 1719, while waiting for a an assignation with a married woman, out of curiosity he picked up a book entitled ‘The Christian Soldier’, or ‘Heaven Taken by Storm’

Colonel James Gardiner, of the 13th Dragoons

He was glancing at the book with no particular interest when all of a sudden the pages were illuminated by a blaze of light, and Christ appeared to him and reproved him for his evil conduct. Gardiner resolved at once to amend his ways, and began to set himself up as a religious warrior.

This caused much amusement and conversation amongst his friends, who put this behaviour down to a temporary madness caused by a recent fall from his horse.

On the morning of the Battle of Glasgow Mearns, Gardiner had had a new more terrible vision, of being attacked by Lord George Murray’s Division and being caught unawares resulting in a terrible defeat.

The events of that day proved the Colonel’s vision to be a foresight of the truth. After the retreat to Carlisle he suffered many restless nights culminating in a third vision, that of himself leading a righteous attack on the Jacobite hordes.

He set about planning to take the fight back to the rebels, an attack on Glasgow its-self would visit the wrath of the Lord God Almighty on his enemies.

The 13^th Dragoons had not had an illustrious career, raised originally in Ireland, back in 1715 and still largely comprising of rough and ready, (and by may accounts untrustworthy), Irishmen. They had never fought in anger since their creation, yes they’d been on scouting missions and in skirmishing actions but no real stand-up battles. Even at Glasgow, they were never really deployed to take the line.

On the 6^th November Gardiner’s plans were all In place, he’d been working night and day on these for the past two weeks and at 8:00 am he led his regiment of 200 men, split into 4 troops out of the town gates of Carlisle and marched north on the road to Scotland.

The horses and men of the regiment were not in great shape, their Irish accents gave onlooks cause for concern and Colonel Gardiner himself was hardly recognisable as a military man.

The 57 year old Colonel wore a long, dark blue overcoat and his hat was secured on his head by a handkerchief that ran over the crown and tied under his chin. He declared that he was sick and that he did not have long to live – he was right.

Despite their poor looks the Dragoons made a brisk pace as they marched northwards, travelling 25 miles across the border to Locherbie, on the first day where they rested the night.

Next morning on the 7^th November they travelled from Locherbie to Moffat, just 16 miles but allowing the men and horses to rest a little on the way towards Glasgow, as the condition of the roads got worse.

On the 8^th the Dragoons left Moffat to the cheers of the townsfolk and headed north to Crawfordjohn and the following day another 20 miles, in pouring rain, on to Hamilton, Lanarkshire.

A late start from Hamilton allowed the 13th time to arrive at Pollock Shields as dusk fell on the 11^th November, each troop took separate quarters and made camp.

The 4^th Troop would remain at Pollockshields, under the command of Captain Thomas Berwick, to secure this as a rendez-vous point and monitor the roads back to Hamilton to ensure that they would be clear for their orderly withdrawal the next day.

Gardiner’s plan saw the 1^st & 2^nd Troops leading the attack on the bridge across the River Clyde in the Gorbals, the 3rd Troop would be a mobile reserve in case any difficulties were encountered.

Detailed view of the Bridge & Gorbals Streets 

Before first light, the next day the 150 men of the raiding party  set forth, all wearing their riding capes inside out, displaying a green lining instead of the King’s Red livery. Some men had borrowed or other wise obtained bonnets to wear instead of their cocked hats, others had tartan shawls wrapped across their shoulders to further disguise their true colours.

Typical view of the
Dragoons on the Raid

The Hanoverians rode swiftly up Edington Street towards the river bridge, ahead of them stood the glowing braziers of the town guard as they watched over the thoroughfare as the first rays of dawn’s light cut through the misty morning.

The 3^rd Troop under Captain Patrick O’Brien pulled up as planned some 150 yards short of the bridge’s southern edge, deploying his troopers t either side of the road, they secured a small town square and the main entry points into and out of their position. The action was swift but noisy with loud Irish curses clearly heard as men skidded on the wet cobbled streets.

On rode the 1^st and Second Troops, they were on the handful of grey clad towns guards before they were able to put up much of a fight, a few shouts here and there – the clatter of hooves on cobbles and six of the eight guards men were captured, more or less intact! One man was run through with a sword and lay dying on the ground, another, 23 year old John Walker, had jumped over the side of the bridge to escape the oncoming horses, only to have landed awkwardly on a lower parapet and broken his leg in two places.

Colonel Gardiner arrived on the scene and ordered Major Michael Reagan to secure the southern end of the bridge with his 1^st Troop, he then called to Captain George O’Dowde to lead the way to the northern end of the bridge as fast as possible, whilst they still had the benefit of surprise.

As they galloped off Gardiner shouted back to Reagan – Hang ‘em High! Thus sealing the fate of the prisoners who despite their struggles were then summarily strung-up over the sides if the bridge, they danced and screamed until their necks broke, then there was silence.

At this stage John Walker’s  moans drew the attention of a Corporal in the Dragoons who looked over the side of the bridge and discharged his pistol into the crippled man’s head.

As that pistol shot rang out, the Dragoons of O’Dowde’s 2nd troop crested the arch over the Clyde and began their descent on the northern end of the bridge. Here there were eleven City Guards clearly illuminated in front of their braziers, scrambling to load their ancient muskets and preparing to fire at the orders of their Guard Sergeant.

Dragoon of Gardiner's 13th Regiment 

In what seemed like moments to the guardsmen and hours to the dragoons the range closed and a ragged volley was fired by most of the guardsmen, it had little effect, emptying just one saddle and bringing down a horse, throwing the unfortunate dragoon sprawling forwards across the cobbles towards the Sergeant.

Then the dragoons were on them , those guardsmen who where not fast enough to turn and run where cut down on the spot, those that were able to run were cut down moments later as swords swung in the dawn light.

Only the City Guard’s Sergeant avoided the initial onslaught as he dodged two sword blows and as he stepped forwards to ram his spontoon into the still tumbling dragoon before him. He hesitated as he saw the King’s colours exposed but a pistol shot from Captain O’Dowd ended the matter with immediate effect.

The company drummer was ordered to sound the recall and the excited troopers rallied back on the northern end of the bridge. Five of the men still lived, despite various wounds and again Gardiner issued the order for these unfortunates to be hung over the sides of the bridge.

By now the commotion had started to wake locals and a general hue & cry was being raised. Other Guards men appeared on the spot and then just as quickly disappeared as they took in what was happening.

A few shots rang out, another dragoon fell from his saddle and Gardiner ordered the retirement of the troop to the southern bank of the river via the bridge. As they approached the southern bank, the sounds of sporadic gun fire was in the air.

Reagan’s dragoons were holding their ground but there were increasing numbers of locals gathering trying to impede their way or at least to see what was happening. Many of the locals were shouting obscenities at the dragoons and some threw stones.

The two troops were reunited and the three senior officers recapped their position and this lead to the order to fall back again to the position of the 3rd Troop some 150 yards further south.

As this order was being given a group of locals surged forwards over  garden walls and wrestled a handful of dragons to the ground. One of these men was Colonel James Gardiner, although not unfit or a man of his age, a heavy landing on cobbles had winded and slowed the Hanoverian officer.

An axe blow caught him in his shoulder, then he was hit in his right thigh by a stray ball discharged by one of his men at his attackers, then a flurry of blows knocked him senseless to the ground.

He died two days later, never regaining consciousness.

 A romanticised view of Gardiner's Death at the hands of the City Guards

O’Brien took command and the three troops withdrew, riding at haste to Pollock Shields where disguises where ditched and the whole Regiment was re-united. By mid day they were on their march south heading once again for Hamilton, where they reached late in the evening of the11th November.

Total casualties 4 men dead, including the Colonel and six men wounded.

By the 12th the Dragoons were well on their way back to Crawfordjohn, celebrating their glorious victory and well and truely sending the Willies up McBlacks's Glasgow Garrison. 

The Hanover Hangover #4

Weekly Agony Uncle Column

Hello blossoms

Its me, Your local Agony Uncle: Jolly John Bull, here to share your troubles and offer some words of advice once again. What a crazy time we are living through? The postbag is fuller than a rams sack on easter morning! So, lets dive in…

Health food riots in Glasgow

Dear Jolly John

I am writing to describe unhappy scenes here in Glasgow this week as a band of drunken foreigners and highlanders stumbled into Glasgow in search of tobacco and booze. Anarchic and apparently leaderless the mob of several hundred drifted around the City looting and causing upset to the good citizens. The next day we hear rumour that the mob is actually led by that troublesome Italian The Boring Ponce Charlotte! No-one has seen him of course, as he is never at the head of his mob and because of his short stature, but Italian restaurants and shoe-shops in town have seen a run on tortellini, second rate chianti and platform shoes!.

Under the noble leadership of the great Humanitarian Cumberland, General Cope chose to withdraw his army south in order to preserve life and apply non-confrontational community policing techniques. The multi-denominational community liaison policing committee applauds this wise action, but in the short term this leaves us Citizens in the clutches of the leaderless mob. Their ignorant rampaging may require a tougher response from the King as they do not seem to respect private property.  

Yours 

Hamish Hadenuff

Hamish , this is a shocking story. We are all getting somewhat tired of the destructive ramble undertaken by the itinerant short Italian. But this is going too far surely! How can the good people of Glasgow tolerate this gross intrusion. I too applaud the noble self sacrifice of General Cope who understands how to mollify an angry continental crowd by withdrawing overt signs of law and order, but the tolerance of the state can be pushed too far!

Read on dear friend to find some letters reporting more positive news from the North!

Hurray for King George and all under his flag! Lets see if sense can prevail before others WADE-in! (see what I did there!?!?)

Death of a Myth

Dear Jolly John

As a brave highlander of catholic religion I write to express my anger at myself and my clan compatriots for the dishonour we have brought on a once proud nation. Foolishly I have followed the banner of the Clown of Italy and have allowed myself to be persuaded towards recklessness in pursuit if gin and pepperoni pizza! As we have stumbled southwards, our numbers hardly rising above a few hundred, we have left a series of Cities in our wake, ravaged and despoiled.

Sensing that I had made a poor choice in life we staggered towards Glasgow and a long promised music festival of traditional Roman gypsy music. At the festival my eyes were opened. Noble General Cope sent a fine young officer to offer our unruly mob terms on the morning of the 12 October. Unfortunately that fine young gentleman offering gentleman’s terms met the most ungentlemanly Hooligan McBlack the black hearted blackguard in a black mood! Head spinning from a mighty hangover and his tiny brain filled with the poisonous orders of Lord Murray (whom we in the ranks call Murray-mint due to his portly egg-like shape and overall yellow hue) that no quarter should be given. Can you imagine our shock when the fine officer was unhorsed? Out for a drunken cavort through the heather we find ourselves misused by our leaders and tricked into a no-holds-barred fight on the basis of ungentlemanly rules!

Thankfully the noble General Cope, despite this outrageous provocation, adopted passive policing techniques and withdrew to the south. Praise be that the country is under the rule of such wise governance. Lives were spared. Despite this though the drunken John Gordon of Avochie started to shoot wildly in the air with his sporting pieces. Trying to reload he stumbled and shot himself clean through the throat and chest. What a foolish end to a once great man.

I am so ashamed…how have we highlanders stooped so low. How can I redeem our Highland reputation.

Gordon McCheesedoff

Muddy Festival Site, Glasgow

Well Gordon, I needed a stiff whiskey after reading that letter!,

I too have heard stories of the ignoble actions of the Murray Mint, but I didn’t believe he could descend to this. Ignoring the rules of war he has supported the Italian Clown in his disastrous procession through the Scottish nation. I am sure his fancy continental friends will be agog to hear these stories and recognise the true nature of this rabble.

Good Highlanders can restore their pride by swearing allegiance to the crown and the King. This is a time of unparalleled dabbling in our affairs by foreign devils, but by keeping our eyes on the true course of Hanoverian succession we can remind ourselves what it means to be a true British subject!

Fear not Gordon, your travails will soon come to an end.

Mighty Battle restores order in the North

Dear Jolly John

Oh how we rejoice in Inverness this morning! Our honour and peace has been restored in the mighty Battle of Inverness where a huge rebel army has been put to flight by good citizens and their colonial allies and rightful forces of the King.

The 12th October will be forever remembered as the day we threw off the Boring Ponce Charlotte and his filthy foreign forces. The people of the City planned how to evict the interlocutors for several weeks, we mustered our forces and communicated with the government to plan our counter-coup. Knowing that a strong fleet sent from the America’s was also close we prepared our arms and steeled our hearts for the fight.

The rebels had assembled a vast host that was encamped on the hills above the City. Several thousand rebels, armed to the teeth and baying for blood was confronted in the morning by a strong force of citizens marching out of the City and a surprise Government force that had marched from the South and appeared to their rear. As our American colony cousins sailed their powerful fleet into the harbour, firing their guns and disgorging militia to restore the lucrative cross Atlantic trade we orchestrated the attack. Outnumbered though we were we knew that right was on our side.

The heathen rebels put up a stiff initial resistance but their hearts were not in it. How can good Scottish men fight under a foreigners flag? Knowing they were beaten by a truer cause they started to flee. Dropping their arms and running for Aberdeen. The great City of Inverness was restored to the crown, where the Citizens hearts had always been.

Long Live Good King George    

GOD SAVE THE KING!   

Well, need I say more!