These Zombie Napoleonic Infantry from 'Eureka Miniatures' were very much an impulse purchase and, if truth be told, a project that I had started some considerable time ago. I had been aware of these wonderfully gruesome little chaps for a while, but it wasn't until The Silver Bayonet became my latest obsession that I finally felt able to justify acquiring them. Not, I hasten to add, that the absence of a suitable project has ever proved much of an obstacle to buying random miniatures before!
From what I understand, these particular horrors are actually based upon Eureka's French Revolutionary sculpts, and therein lies something of a problem. You see, I know considerably less about the French Revolutionary Wars than I do about the Napoleonic Wars. Fortunately, my good friend, the 'Provost Marshal', is something of an authority on such matters and, what he doesn't know, he almost certainly has a book about. Being a kindly and generous sort of chap, he took pity on my predicament and duly appeared with a copy of Philip Haythornthwaite and Christopher Warner's Uniforms of the French Revolutionary Wars.
Armed with this invaluable reference, I embarked upon a period of diligent historical research before eventually falling back upon my tried and tested palette of red, white and blue. I have little doubt that I have committed all manner of uniformological atrocities in the process, but given the condition of these particular gentlemen, I rather suspect that an incorrect facing colour is the least of their worries; button counters, do your worst!
What struck me most about these slightly diminutive but beautifully sculpted troops was the extraordinary amount of work that had gone into transforming them into a shambling collection of the undead. Good grief, somebody at Eureka was clearly enjoying themselves! The various wounds and injuries leave precious little to the imagination. One of my particular favourites is a poor unfortunate who appears to have received a cannonball directly through his torso, leaving a substantial hole through which one can admire the scenery beyond.
There is a lovely mixture of marching and more dynamic poses, some of which are gloriously over the top. Take, for example, the gentleman who has somehow managed to misplace his head, only to discover it impaled upon the bayonet of his musket. Rather than allowing this unfortunate turn of events to inconvenience him, he has simply hoisted the whole arrangement aloft, presumably in the hope of obtaining a better view of the battlefield. An admirable display of initiative, if nothing else, and one that left me wondering whether there might be an opportunity for a suitably ridiculous home brewed rule.
Of course, the undead are notoriously difficult to control and, clearly, such a rabble requires a commander of exceptional character. Who better than Napoleon Blownapart himself? I confess that they had my money at the name alone. It is precisely the sort of dreadful pun that appeals to my rather questionable sense of humour, but the miniature is an absolute delight in its own right. Resplendent in his battered bicorne and greatcoat, with a truly alarming quantity of his internal organs on public display, he makes a wonderfully characterful addition to the unit.
With the familiar hues applied to the models, I set about making a dreadful mess of everything, liberally applying lashings of gore to the various wounds and exposed entrails. Subtlety was hardly the order of the day, and I have to confess that I thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to indulge in some gloriously excessive blood splattering.
Et voilà! Another Zomtober offering completed, and a particularly unsavoury collection of Frenchmen ready to take their place amongst the growing horrors of The Silver Bayonet.
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