After weeks
of apathy, I started getting an itchy paintbrush. Luckily I had a small unit of
cavalry already undercoated – this is their story…
Trooper Riley’s
horse was skittish as he and his fellow Blackshirts waited on parade; it’s hot
breath mixing with the early morning fog of a cold London morning. ‘Hercules’ jerked
it’s head, picking up no doubt his rider’s own nerves – for today, it was
rumoured, they would be addressed by someone important. Fuller perhaps, or
Jenks – maybe even Mosley himself!
“Whoever it
is, I wish ‘ed get a bleedin’ move on!” Riley muttered.
“They like
to keep us hangin’ abaht,” replied his neighbour, ‘Monkey’ Harris, astride his
own black steed. “Y’know – get us all in a two-and-eight. Make’s ‘em feel big
dunnit?”
Riley huffed
in reply, wondering how, years after first stepping out in his uniform as a
young tearaway and facing a crowd of baying lefties, he could still feel
nervous as a trooper in Mosley’s cavalry. Surely all those nights patrolling
the estuary, riding down protestors in Hyde Park and skirmishing along the
front line would have hardened his nerve more than this?
“Oi oi, look
sharp!” Harris hissed.
Riley watched, butterflies wheeling, as a black
Roller had pulled up in front of them, the back door pulled open by some lackey
to allow some high-ranking nob – all medals and sash - to climb stiffly out.
He nodded
almost casually to the stiff row of mounted troops before him. “Gentlemen,” he
said, his voice as hard as his gaze, “I am Baron Foy, and as of this moment you
are under my command.”
The line of
cavalry rippled a little.
“Tomorrow
you will leave the comfort and civilisation of the capital and join the Three
Counties Legion on campaign in the provinces. Herefordshire to be precise – a place
you will have never heard of, but a place that you will soon learn to hate. Use
that hate gentlemen, for you will need it.”
“In honour
of the sacrifice you are about to make, I have been authorised by the Prime
Minister to bestow upon you an honorary name of my choosing – the Bethnal Green
Auxiliary Mounted Rifles being a bit of a mouthful, is it not?”
“Therefore I
have devised an honorific that reflects both your magnificent black steeds and
your own steely determination. From henceforth you will be known as…”
He paused
for effect.
“The Iron
Hooves!”
“Iron ‘oofs!?”
Harris coughed, “Gaw’ blimey!”
These
figures are Crusader Miniatures WW2 German cavalry, and I have some Musketeer
BUF cavalry waiting to join them once they’re undercoated.
On a
completely different note, I’d like to point out an amazing bit of
scratchbuilding, currently in the ‘How To’ section of the Lead-Adventure Forum.
Mark reckons
that it’s something I could easily build, although I respectfully disagree! As
a compromise I have agreed to have a crack at a (hopefully) simpler model – an armoured
traction engine similar to that employed in the Boer War:-
Watch this
space!
