Third Battle: Orange Chicken Bridge

Realizing that Colonel Carter of the British Detachment Lion has things well in hand up near Jamesel Swamp, Lt. Col. Secondfiddle turns Detachment Wheel right at the crossroads in Hopeton, only to find the French already in possession of Orange Chicken Bridge.

The French took advantage of what little cover they could find, placing their two infantry units behind a small wood to the right of the bridge and one directly behind the shelter of the arch of the bridge itself.

Lt. Col. Secondfiddle spots an opportunity!  As the British approach, they also take advantage of the little bit of cover provided by the shady little bridge.

The gentle slope of the pasture outside of Hopeton gives him a wide open approach to the enemy.  His rifles and light cannon, wrestled so slowly through the day, give him a clear advantage in range - all that sweat equity is about to pay off.  But he doesn't have forever - the hour grows late and sunset will arrive soon.  He must force the bridge today, and cannot count on reinforcements.

The rifle fire and cannon immediately take enough of a toll on the northern French infantry that they abandon the scant protection of the trees and head for safer ground in the shadow of Orange Chicken Bridge.  Their fire blocked by the trees on the near bank, the British race ahead, with the rifles settling in among the trees and engaging in a pleasant little firefight across the racing waters of the steep-banked Drescher Stream.

Meanwhile, the British line infantry heads west, preparing to take the bridge by force.

As the British line dresses their line and assumes column formation on the Hopeton-Young Crossing Road, they hear shouts from behind!

Colonel Carter has arrived along with the survivors of Jamesel Marsh.  The battered men of the Dragoons have no room to operate in the tight confines of the bridge, but the infantry fight there hangs in the balance.  He orders his infantry to race ahead with all deliberate speed.  Recognizing the dangers of sudden changes of command in the heat of a fight such as this, he also hangs back, content to let Secondfiddle show his mettle.

Lt. Col. Secondfiddle hangs back, content to let his men do what they do best.  The French have been cleared from the trees, and it becomes a race against time as the dun dips low in the west.

Eventually, the weight of numbers begins to tell, and the bridge falls to the British, but not until the sun has slipped away beneath the horizon.  

As the last light of dusk fades, the British hold the field, dress their wounds, and make camp.  Colonel ake ready to camp, send messages back to Field Command, and await further orders.