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Re: (TFT) MA issues, proposed fix

----- Original Message ----- From: "Joey Beutel"

Have you done said battles with long distances though? Archers in real
battles are shooting from a long ways off, and swordsmen need to
charge across long distances to get to their foes... and then once the
melee starts, generally only some of the men from each unit are
actually fighting each other at any given time, the others standing in
the back, waiting for the opening for them to enter the combat.

That's Formations which are Unit Talents

The rolling fire line in Zulu springs to mind.

But Kipling said;

(Soudan Expeditionary Force)

We've fought with many men acrost the seas,
        An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not:
The Paythan an' the Zulu an' Burmese;
        But the Fuzzy was the finest o' the lot.
We never got a ha'porth's change of 'im:
        'E squatted in the scrub an' 'ocked our 'orses,
'E cut our sentries up at Suakim,
        An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces.
        So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan;
        You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man;
        We gives you your certificate, an' if you want it signed
        We'll come an' 'ave a romp with you whenever you're inclined.

We took our chanst among the Khyber 'ills,
        The Boers knocked us silly at a mile,
The Burman give us Irriwaddy chills,
        An' a Zulu impi dished us up in style:
But all we ever got from such as they
        Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller;
We 'eld our bloomin' own, the papers say,
        But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us 'oller.
        Then 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' the missis and the kid;
        Our orders was to break you, an' of course we went an' did.
        We sloshed you with Martinis, an' it wasn't 'ardly fair;
        But for all the odds agin' you, Fuzzy-Wuz, you broke the square.

'E 'asn't got no papers of 'is own,
        'E 'asn't got no medals nor rewards,
So we must certify the skill 'e's shown
        In usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords:
When 'e's 'oppin' in an' out among the bush
        With 'is coffin-'eaded shield an' shovel-spear,
An 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush
        Will last an 'ealthy Tommy for a year.
        So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' your friends which are no more,
        If we 'adn't lost some messmates we would 'elp you to deplore;
        But give an' take's the gospel, an' we'll call the bargain fair,
        For if you 'ave lost more than us, you crumpled up the square!

'E rushes at the smoke when we let drive,
        An', before we know, 'e's 'ackin' at our 'ead;
'E's all 'ot sand an' ginger when alive,
        An' 'e's generally shammin' when 'e's dead.
'E's a daisy, 'e's a ducky, 'e's a lamb!
        'E's a injia-rubber idiot on the spree,
'E's the on'y thing that doesn't give a damn
        For a Regiment o' British Infantree!
        So 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Soudan;
        You're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man;
An' 'ere's to you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, with your 'ayrick 'ead of 'air -- You big black boundin' beggar -- for you broke a British square!
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