Reenactors and Wargamers: Representing Fear and Flight on Eighteenth-Century Battlefields

These men are not fleeing, nor is there concrete proof they are afraid

Dear Reader,

Today, we are going to examine a vital part of battlefield experience in the eighteenth century: fear and flight. Soldiers ran from eighteenth-century battles. Fear and intimidation, rather than powder or cold steel, were the greatest threats to the battle-plans of eighteenth-century commanders. Despite this, eighteenth-century reenactors rarely portray troops fleeing from the field of battle. At most events, reenactors maintain their geometric formations during the heat of battle, until one side calmly marches away from the battle. This is so ingrained in reenactor imagination that doing anything else provokes shock. I fled from a reenacted battle outside Fredonia, Wisconsin in 2014, and the chief officer looked up with surprise and asked, "what are you doing?" Over my shoulder, I replied, "I'm running away, it was a thing."

Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a picture of reenactors running away?
These guys aren't even running away, that is how hard it is.

Was it, though? Did troops frequently experience fear and flight on eighteenth-century battlefields? Once again, I stand on the shoulders of giants as I write this post. Christopher Duffy, Ilya Berkovich, Matthew Spring, David Blackmore, and many other historians have addressed this topic. Particularly, the essays by Andreas Bähr, Ilya Berkovich, and Marian Füssel in the edited volume Battlefield Emotions, 1500-1800 are worth a read.[1] What do primary sources tell us regarding fear on the battlefield? Did soldiers often speak about their fear? Did they admit to fleeing in the face of the enemy? How should reenactors and wargamers represent these emotions and actions?

Perhaps unsurprisingly, very few soldiers emphasized fleeing in the face of the enemy, particularly during combat. Garrett Watts, a North Carolina Militiamen, stands out as admitting that he was one of the first to flee at the Battle of Camden:

I can state on oath that I believe my gun was the first gun fired not withstanding the orders: for we were close to the (enemy) army, who appeared to maneuver in contempt of us, and I fired without thinking except that I might prevent the man opposite from killing me. The discharge and loud roar soon became general from one end of the lines to the other. Amongst other things, I confess I was amongst the first that fled. The cause of that I cannot tell, except that everyone I saw was about to do the same. It was instantaneous. There was no effect....encouragement to fight... I threw away my gun, and reflecting, I might be punished for being found without arms. I picked up a drum, which gave forth such sounds when touched by the twigs I cast it away...[2]

Carl Roechling's depiction of the Saxon flight in the Battle of Hohenfriedberg

Veterans and military theorists often asserted that everyone in combat felt the effects of fear. French military author Comte Lancelot Turpin de Crissé attempted to describe the nature of fear on the battlefield:

The general must understand his soldiers and go further: the best countenance does not always contain the strongest heart. The coward often feigns courage, but in the moment of combat the veil falls, and the quiet man proves himself a hero. It is not that healthy fear at this moment is reprehensible, men must be allowed a natural shudder in the face of uncertain destruction. The coward gives himself up to his fear, the false hero tried in vain to conceal fear, the hothead, who sees nothing, cannot feel them, and the true soldier represses fear: a good general uses them all to advantage.[3] 

If all soldiers felt fear, how did some of these men processes this experience? It seems that soldiers often felt great fear at the start of a battle, particularly if they were under an artillery bombardment. Once infantrymen began to shoot, or cavalry troops were engaged in combat, was often temporarily replaced by a sense of excitement or detachment. Once the battle developed, fear returned, and men on both sides began to melt away, until a crisis developed, which led to a mass break. Troops on the fleeing side would stream back in the direction that had initially marched from, often will little order.  

How do our sources describe this model of fear and flight in combat? Veterans such as Ulrich Bräker asserted that the greatest moments of fear were before the battle: 

"the powerful shots from Imperial batteries slammed through our regiment, which stood in the middle line. Up to this point, I had hoped to avoid a battle. Now though, I saw no prospect of flight behind me, or to the right or left... my courage had completely vanished, and I would like to have crawled into the earth. I saw a similar fear, noticeable by a sort of deathly paleness, on all faces, even those who had previously bragged of their courage.[4]

Artillery bombardment, particularly when soldiers had no means of replying, was especially terrifying, as Bräker seems to indicate above. Troops frequently attempted to dodge out of the way of artillery fire, and generals who did not make an effort to shelter their waiting troops from artillery faced criticism.[5] 

Prussian soldiers flee 

 Bräker also noted that some soldiers began to drink their small stores of alcohol in order to deal with the stress of the artillery bombardment. Sometimes, soldiers would turn to other substances, or engage in bluster, in order to deal with the stress of combat. Ernst von Barsewisch, a young officer in the Regiment of Meyerinck, or IR 26, recalled of the Battle of Hochkirch,

I had the priviledge that early in the engagement a musket ball penetrated the peak of my hat near my head, and just a moment afterwards, a second ball hit the rear brim of the hat, knocking it from my head. I turned to the Von Hertzbergs [brothers, who were officers in IR 26] and said, "Gentlemen, should I put this hat on, if the Imperials want it? "Yes, indeed," they said, "that hat does you honor." The older von Hertzberg took his snuff tobacco tin in his hand and said, "Gentlemen, take a pinch of courage!" I stepped up to him, took a pinch, and said, "yes, here, we need courage." Von Unruh followed and the younger von Hertzberg brother took the final pinch. At this moment, the older von Hertzberg raised his pinch to his nose, and a musket ball slammed into his forehead. I was at his side, and he cried out, "Lord Jesus!" and turning, fell dead to the ground.[6] 

Revolutionary Troops engaged in combat

  Once the shooting began soldiers often experienced an odd sense of calm, or great excitement, but fear is not often recorded. Soldiers sometimes indicated that they had no fear of death, even in the heat of combat. Sgt. Roger Lamb recalled at the Battle of Guilford Courthouse:

I observed several bodies of Americans drawn up within the distance of a few yards. Whoever has been in an engagement well knows that, in such moments all fears of death are over. Seeing one of the guards among the slain, where I stood, I stopped and replenished my own pouch with the cartridges that remained in his; during the time I was thus employed, several shots were fired at me; but not one took effect. [7]

Urlich Bräker noted that his thoughts were, "in a state of excitement and heat" and that, "our native Prussians and Brandenburgers sprang upon the enemy like furies."[8] This description matches well with Lamb's account, above. Again, we see that during combat, if events were still in the balance, soldiers recalled that the activities of combat itself, not fear, dominated their minds. Once the battle was joined, then, soldiers appear to have felt slightly less fear, which would return at a crisis point in the battle.

Prussian Cuirassier pursuing fleeing French at Rossbach

Crisis points could begin in a relatively isolated way, and travel like lightning across an army.  The Battle of Gross-Jägersdorf in 1757, Russian officers observed that once the Prussians, "saw their comrades were running away, they believed it was high time for them to do the same. What an agreeable and entrancing spectacle it was!"[9] Another Russian at the same battle recalled a shout that a local victory had been achieved and that this restored life to troops who had been retreating: "Wherever this shout came from, it produced some undoubtedly good effects. The Second Grenadier Regiment found new stores of courage and went out to attack the enemy once again."[10]

In the later stages of the battle, fear seemed to affect more and more soldiers. Feldprediger [chaplain] Karl Daniel Küster, discussed the phenomenon of "freezing" and fear with the Prussian army in the Seven Years' War.

I have often spoken with both high and low ranking officers, as well as the brave enlisted men, regarding this so-called, "cannon-fever." They are all in one accord that only boastful liars have never felt horror in battle at the prospect of death. They also commented, and I have also noted, that this sense (of cannon-fever) spreads during the early, middle, and last stages of a battle. During the early stages, the strong men support the weak, and a general flight only cccurs when this disabling fear affects the morale of the majority of the army, and both the strong and weak flee together.[11]

Xavier della Gatta's depiction of the Battle of Germantown

Of course, this model does not fit all situations. Some soldiers, even at the opening and middle stages of the battle, felt fear, and wisely took steps to escape the danger they found themselves in. The 2nd Battalion of Light Infantry retreated precipitously from the American forces during the beginning of Battle of Germantown. Martin Hunter recalled, "This was the first time we had ever retreated from the Americans, and it was with the greatest difficulty that we could prevail upon our men to obey orders."[12] Bill Sartain of Butler's Brigade of North Carolina Militia, recalled at the Battle of Guilford Courthouse: "the British were so close that there was no chance for him to escape... [so] he lay there flat on the ground, pretending to be dead, in which he acted his part so well that the enemy did not think worth while even to give him a push with the bayonet..."[13] 

Having discussed fear on the battlefield, let us turn to the experience of flight. Sometimes, fear confronted men after the danger of combat had passed. Karl Daniel Küster, the chaplain encountered earlier, noted that at Hochkirch,

"the so-called cannon-fever or battle-shiver came over me in all of its power. But God graciously granted that this happened later, on the other side of the village of Kitlitz when the danger was almost over. I stood alone, near the regiment, and quickly, a dizzying fear overtook me, fright with trembling limbs, such that I could have been knocked over by a weak child."[14]

 When troops were already moving towards the rear, the appearance of cavalry could produce mass-panic. At Kunersdorf, Johann Jacob Dominicus, a Prussian veteran of IR9, recalled fleeing pell-mell, not during the battle, but when a party of Cossacks appeared during the retreat. In the course of this scene, he recalled, "everyone ran for himself."[15]  Soldiers sometimes recalled hunger and exhaustion as the most pressing thought during flight. Joseph Plumb Martin recalled after the, "rout" at Germantown, "I had now to travel the rest of the day, after marching all day and night before and fighting all morning. I had eaten nothing since noon the preceding day, nor did I eat a morsel till forenoon the next day, and I needed rest as much as victuals."[16] Clearly, being defeated was exhausting work.  Sampson Staniforth gives us a further window into this disappointment. After retreating from the Battle of Rocoux:

Night came on, but, the French still pressing upon us, we retreated all night, till we came near Maestricht. It rained very hard, being the 30th of September, and was exceedingly cold. Toward morning, being out of the reach of the French, we had orders to halt. We had no tents, and it continued raining: however, being well tired, I lay down on the wet ground, put my knapsack under my head, and soon fell fast asleep. In the morning we had orders to march and join the grand army... [we] did so without delay.[17]

Reenactors engaged in a mock fire-fight

 So: How might reenactors and wargamers do a better job representing fear and flight on eighteenth-century battlefields? Let us begin with reenactors. If you are an 18th-century reenactor, and you are standing stationary with no orders while under an artillery bombardment, display a considerable amount of agitation, rather than just standing there. If you are representing an infantryman, and you are being shot at, (safely) feel free to load and fire as fast as you can, until someone in authority convinces you to stop. If your unit has been under fire for a significant amount of time or flanked by enemy soldiers, (safely, with your musket unloaded) run away from the battleline. Go on. Do it. You know you want to.  With any luck, this will create a general spontaneous rout to the rear, disrupting whatever farbery the event organizers and officers had planned.

If, of course, your NCO is a buff, terrifying man, capable of outrunning you, just do whatever he says. In my view, eighteenth-century reenacting is currently at the place envisioned by eighteenth-century officers: that is to say, troops on the battlefield rarely do anything but what officers command. By sometimes (safely) firing spontaneously and if the situation warrants it, (especially if you are losing the battle, or a non-regular) fleeing from combat, you may cause your officers a bit of a headache, but you will be portraying a more realistic past to the public.

It seems these Austrians might be wise to flee from this wargame battle.

Now, on to wargamers. Many rulesets, such as Age of Reason, and Final Argument of Kings,  do an excellent job portraying morale breakdown. I would encourage all gamers to test for morale the first time troops are hit by artillery, particularly if they are otherwise unengaged. I would also suggest that the longer troops remain stationary under this artillery bombardment, the more difficult the test should become. Many rulesets also have tests for seeing friendly troops fleeing the field. This is an excellent rule, one which accurately reflects the realities of battlefield combat. Many of these tests are quite easy to pass, and should be before combat is joined, but once troops are in heavy combat, once one regiment begins to flee, there should be strong incentives for others to do the same. I would also like to suggest that each player, once per round, test for spontaneous good or bad news sweeping the ranks like lightning. Both of these results should be exceedingly rare (double ones or double sixes, perhaps?), but should carry a significant penalty or bonus, perhaps increasing or lowering the morale grade of troops by a quarter or a third.

How else might reenactors or wargames represent fear and flight?

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Thanks for Reading,



Alex Burns


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[1] Erika Kuijpers and Cornelis van der Haven, Battlefield Emotions 1500-1800: Practices, Experience and Imagination.
[2] Garrett Watts, Revolutionary Pension Roll, in Vol. xiv, Sen. Doc. 514, 23rd Cong., 1st sess., 1833-34.
[3] Turpin de Crissé, Essai sur l'art de la guerre, Vol 1, 391.
[4] Ulrich Bräker, Der Arme Mann, 147.
[5] Christopher Duffy, Military Experience in the Age of Reason, 218-219.
[6] Ernst von Barsewisch, Meine Kriegs-Erlebnisse, 75.
[7] Roger Lamb, Journal,  362.
[8] Ulrich Bräker, Der Arme Mann, 150.
[9] Andrei Bolotov, Zhizn, Vol 1, 539.
[10] Weymarn, "Ueber den ersten Feldzug," Neue Nordische Miscellaneen, 200-1.
[11] Karl Daniel Küster, Bruchstück seines Campagnelebens, 62.
[12] Martin Hunter, Journal of General Martin Hunter, 34.
[13] Eli Caruthers, Interesting Revolutionary Incidents, Vol 2 (Second Series), 161.
[14] Karl Daniel Küster, Bruchstück seines Campagnelebens, 60.
[15] Johann Jacob Dominicus, Tagebuch, 60.
[16] Joseph Plumb Martin, Private Yankee Doodle, 73-74.
[17] Thomas Jackson, Early Lives of the Methodist Preachers, Vol 4, 137.