Gallery
From Agincourt to Gettysburg, from the Ardennes to Stalingrad, B.G. Koch has long been drawn to history’s decisive battles. That interest extends beyond reading and research into hands-on craft: painting individual figurines and building detailed, handmade set pieces that bring these moments to life. The following showcase highlights a selection of battles realized through his meticulous miniature work and enduring fascination with military history.
German armor pushes through the dense Ardennes forest—an armored column threading its way toward the Western Front’s breaking point.
Panzer columns advance under autumn canopy, the calm before the storm that would become the Battle of the Bulge.
German spearhead tanks rumble down frozen forest roads—fifteen miles from Moscow and running out of time.
Infantry and armor converge on the Soviet capital, engines straining in subzero air, supply lines stretched to the limit.
Exhausted soldiers trudge east through deepening snow—momentum fading with each frozen mile.
Urban warfare engulfs the ruins of Stalingrad—German infantry fighting block by block through shattered concrete and smoke.
Amid wreckage and snow, Axis troops push into the industrial heart of the Volga—one street at a time.
Encircled and starving, the remnants of the Sixth Army hold their ground in Stalingrad’s ruins—the turning point of the war.
Armored columns grind forward through the frozen steppe, infantry clinging to steel as winter locks the front in place.
Heavy guns stand silent between barrages, crews stamping their feet and waiting for the next fire mission in the cold.
Panzers and halftracks crowd the approaches, stalled by ice, exhaustion, and the narrowing streets ahead.
Assault troops gather at the edge of the ruins, faces hidden beneath helmets and frost, orders passed quietly hand to hand.
An 8.8 cm gun holds a prepared position inside the ruins, its long barrel covering the street where the enemy is expected to appear.
The city reduced to bones—collapsed walls, frozen rubble, and the smell of smoke trapped beneath snow.
Tracked vehicles squeeze through the wreckage, scraping past walls that were once streets and homes.
A narrow corridor of destruction—armor advances single file while infantry scan the upper floors for movement.
French cavalry and infantry formations mass on the field near Agincourt, moments before advancing toward the English line.
French men-at-arms look on from the rear ranks at Agincourt as the cavalry moves into position ahead of them, preparing to launch the opening assault.
French cavalry eagerly begin their charge.
Driven by overconfidence and a hunger for battlefield glory, French nobles launch an overeager cavalry charge straight into the fortified English line.
Meanwhile, the English—starving, exhausted, and ravaged by disease—know they must win or die.
The remaining French formations watch in disbelief as the initial charge begins to resolve without clear dominance, causing uncertainty and restlessness to spread through the ranks.
Disorder, fractured leadership, and the simmering hubris of the noble class now push pockets of French cavalry into premature action. Some units surge forward without clear orders, the cohesion of the line unraveling even before the main engagement has begun.
Chaos ensues as successive waves crash into the fray, packing men so tightly together that neither effective combat nor retreat is possible; those in the front are crushed forward, while those behind are pushed into a battle they cannot properly fight.
Something in the air shifts; as the French advance stalls and bodies clog the field, the once-impossible suddenly feels attainable. English morale surges, men-at-arms rally forward, and even longbowmen—having exhausted most of their arrows—abandon their stakes to join the melee.
A slaughter follows. Trapped in the mud and crushed by their own advancing ranks, exhausted French knights are cut down like chaff, while renewed English fighters surge forward—turning chaos into rout and sealing one of history’s most improbable battlefield upsets.