CULLODEN - The Last of The '45

Design by Roger Deal

Culloden on Drummossey Moor, April 16, 1746. William Augustus, Duke of Cumberland, son of the King of England, leads a new Government army loyal to the House of Hannover north to face Prince Charles Edward Stuart's fierce Highlanders. Bonnie Prince Charlie's Scots have been victorious in every encounter with the forces of the 'German Usurper' George II since the Jacobite flag of rebellion was raised at Glen Coe on August 19, 1745. Now as the fog lifts off the sodden moorland at 11 AM, 4500 claymore-armed clansmen, most having not eaten nor slept in a day and a half, stand to as the red-coated ranks of 9000 troops of the government army march into battle formations. As the cannon of both sides unleash grapeshot, the Duke orders his troops forward, confident in their fire discipline. The Scots, outnumbered 2 to 1 in bodies but possessing the spirit of a lion in every Celtic breast, launch themselves into an attack borne by their battle ferocity that has been victorious in every contest of arms for the past year. The throne of Britain has just been laid on the scales of combat.

The Culloden battlefield has an excellent visitor center and clear position markers.

The battlefield today as seen from the Government second line. The grove at center marks the area where the battle was joined.

The respective units' positions are marked out across the moor. The heaviest hand-to-hand fighting was just beyond the trees at left.

Fresh flowers at the monument to Clan Frazier in October 2004.

According to local sources, this stone sheep fence still shows where Campbell troops tore it down to make way for Cobham's dragoons to attack the Jacobite forces in their right flank.

Unlike other wargames that have made tongue-in-cheek alternative or counterfactual attempts to do so, CULLODEN The Last of The '45 is the first presentation of an historically accurate deployment of the Loch Ness Monster in a board wargame.

RULE 18. Alternate History (Very Optional) Bonnie Prince Charlie and the Dragon o' Doom
It was a dark and stormy night when a deep dark dank mystic miasma rose redolently, rolling from the River Nairn into the moonless sky that was itself charged with the very essence of sacred spiritual succor for the bravehearts of the Sons of the Highlands from whence that coursing water flowed, its passage disturbed by the trampling tromp of troops following the overburden beast bearing the crass corpulent carcass of William Augustus, Duke of Cummerbund, as with a majestically sardonic irony banshees bravely braying among the bonnie briared braes brought bright breath to the etherial eternal evocation that summoned, and that two-thirds prayer one-half command reached unto the depths of the hills and the waters and the heather whence forth came from a fair firth afar an ancient and antique artifact that, broaching foaming waving waters, levitated lauguidly - leviathan toward vengenace bent - and at the dawn tread full the length of Nairnia's banks with fierce fire, fury, and fang set hard to do battle in defence of Caledonia's beloved Freedom, and then bewildered brutish British saw the insatiablly invincible implacable jubulant Jurassic juggernaut when mercenary minions, mustered long from Hesse, stood to face Scotland's own true Nessie.