Travelling Pathetically - Monitors plus a Sphinx

 After my reptile laden triumph around Greys Point I cast about for something slightly more strenuous and came up with a walking track to Bobbin Head from North Turramurra.  For those who don't know Bobbin Head is essentially a car park for boats (boat park?) in Kuringai National Park because nothing says back to nature like covering every piece of flat water with pleasure boats.  North Turramurra peters out reluctantly into bushland and if one abandons the last road one can plunge into the untamed bush and head towards that symbol of the wild, a marina.  Of course the term "untamed bush" is a relative term, relatively inaccurate in this case.  I'm not saying its the most tamed bush I've ever seen but the loop walk I was doing didn't actually involve using a machete to hack your way through the unyielding wilderness. You did have to get past a sphinx in order to start your walk though.  Alternatively you can drive to Bobbin Head as a road snakes through to allow boat owners to access their charges.  Not owning a boat I decided that walking was for me.  Well, catching a bus, the metro, another bus and then walking a kilometre or so brought me to my start point.  After that walking was for me once I had sneaked past the sphinx.

About the sphinx, see photo below.  It sits in a little bit of manicured parkland just inside the national park boundaries ferociously guarding the firetrails and bush tracks I would be walking along.  Apparently Parks & Wildlife are serious about protecting their interests.

A small but definite sphinx

The sphinx might need a little explanation so here it is.  At the end of the First World War a soldier (and former stonemason) by the name of William Shirley returned suffering from tuberculosis.  He was hospitalised just on the edge of what is now the national park.  Feeling the need to occupy his hours while he (to put it bluntly) died he carved possibly the most unique memorial to his fellow soldiers who had died in battle.  It is apparently a one eightieth copy of the sphinx at Giza which Shirley had seen while training in Egypt.  Although I don't recall the original having quite such a cheery grin.  It took him a while as he was only permitted to work a couple of hours each day (strangely inhaling stone dust isn't good for tuberculosis sufferers) but nevertheless he completed it although sadly he was too ill to attend the dedication and died shortly afterwards.  

Having answered the requisite riddle I set out on my journey.  The first part was along a firetrail which I never particularly like because it is essentially just walking down a dirt road with trees on either side.  My trail map app promised me that it would develop into a proper bush track in the fullness of time so I persevered.  

A solid wall of noise hit me as I set forth.  Cicadas were going nuts and the volume had to be heard to be believed.  I saw very few birds that day which I attribute to the fact that the cicadas had dragged them all down an alley and beaten them to death.  I did notice that the cicada noise dipped slightly as I approached, if they were trying to pretend they weren't there they were doing a lousy job of it.

A firetrail, hardly inspiring

I plodded along the fire trail trying to pretend I was enjoying myself.  The sun was shining and I was going slightly deaf from the relentless cicada assault.  Still I did manage to snap an entrant into the Clare McIntyre Memorial Fungus awards as below.

A long way from water but going strong

A fungus photo always cheers me up.  In some ways its disturbing to be so easy to please, in another it's a blessing.  With refreshed eyes I gazed around at the bush lurking discreetly on either side of the fire trail.  A portion of the bush moved slightly so I looked a little closer.  A decent sized lizard was sunning itself by the side of the trail, taking advantage of the uninterrupted access to the sun that the fire trail provided.

Quite a handsome devil really

I pushed my luck trying to get a little closer and he decided to sunbathe somewhere else

With the lizard having slowly but effectively made itself scarce I was reduced to photographing trees and another fungus entrant.

This is a tree

and this is an albino fungus, note the subtle differences

I had been going gradually but definitely upward which was odd because water is usually downward.  Of course the ascent had been cunningly contrived so that there would be a subsequent descent in order to approach the water followed by yet another ascent to get back to my starting point.  In order to encourage me along attractive views of the as yet distant water were provided to ensure that I didn't just turn around and slink back to the sphinx in shame.

There's a marina down there but fortunately the trees are hiding most of it

The day had turned grey and overcast while remaining hot and I started to get a little nervous about the possibility of rain.  The fire trail started heading in a pleasingly downward direction and I looked forward to getting up close and personal with whatever water was playing host to a bunch of boats.  Along the way I took a photo of the cutest fungus I ever did see.

A little flowery fungus

Finally I was able to abandon the fire trail for a more traditional bush track which promised to lead me towards the water.  Just to prove that point views of boats under which there was, presumably, water started presenting themselves as I headed down.  The cicadas roared enthusiastically as I padded along and I was started to fear I might come out of this walk seriously deaf.

Where there are boats there is usually water

I finally made it down to water level and walked along what I believe is Cowan Creek.  If you follow the creek along far enough you will hit the Hawkesbury River, at least you will if you travel in the right direction.  My path was in the opposite direction and I busied myself taking photos of the creek while skillfully excluding any boats.

And here is the aforementioned water

 The title of this blog entry implied monitors and believe me I don't intend to disappoint.  Well no more than I usually disappoint my nearest and dearest.  The path followed the creek edge, in fact in some of the soggier bits its entirely possible that the path was the creek edge.  As I walked along the creek edge I almost walked into a monitor.  It too was walking down the path alongside the creek.  It was travelling in the same direction as I was so I got a bunch of photos of the back of a monitor.

The back of a monitor

The same back of the same monitor

Finally it realised that I was walking faster that it was and somewhat reluctantly conceded me the path enabling me to take a side on photo as well.

The side of the same monitor

Quite giddy on a surfeit of monitor photos I continued on along delighted to be away from the fire trail.

This is more like it

I paused long enough to take an atmospheric photo of the creekside, considering its width I think it could successfully apply for river status but apparently I don't make those decisions.

This is apparently a creek

With my photo taken I hustled along.  Although I didn't know it I had a date with another monitor.

Yes, this handsome fellow

Incidentally I don't know why I assigned a masculine gender to this particular monitor, just another instance of the patriarchy at work I suppose.  This monitor was strolling through the bush beside the path tongue flickering, presumably looking for food.  Either that or she was telling me what she thought of me for misgendering her.  I took a bunch of blurry photos trying to get one with the tongue out which I finally managed to achieve.  Apparently this was all she wanted as with that photo taken she turned her back on me and rapidly moved out of camera shot.

I've never seen a yellow tongue on a monitor before

With my monitor cup running over I headed back towards the sphinx which hadn't changed particularly much in the time I was away.  With my walk completed I left the national park and made my way to somewhere an uber driver might be able to pick me up without running over monitors on the way.  As mentioned there was very little in the way of bird life, not even the ubiquitous brush turkey put in an appearance.  Apparently to redress this oversight a brush turkey hastily dashed out from the bush and disported itself on the pavement next to a rather well frequented road for the sole purpose of getting me to take a photo of it.

Thanks for the consideration

I thanked the brush turkey profusely and made my way home.  The photos taken the brush turkey promptly took itself off back to the bush with a sense of relief.

Silly After Action Report - Penny Packets

 "It's not fair," muttered a surly looking soldier as he peered through the falling snow from behind a half track, "I'm not a nobody.  I'm a gefreiter for God's sake.  I deserve to be mentioned by name."

"Don't get upset about it," replied his companion, "after all most of the people who get mentioned by name in these blog entries don't exactly do well."

"It's about recognition," snapped the gefreiter, "an acknowledgement of our value and the fact that we are individuals with names, personalities, hopes and ambitions.  I am not just 'a gefreiter' I have a name!"  He gave his companion a challenging look, "Do you know my name?"  Caught off guard his companion hesitated.

"Um sure, I think.  Aren't you, ahh no, sorry, no idea."

"My name is Hans-Adam Ketterl," shouted the gefreiter at the top of his voice and stomped off towards the front of the line kicking occasionally at the snow.  His attention drawn by the sudden noise a leutnant poked his head around the rear of the halftrack.

"Who the hell is making all that noise?"

"Oh just some gefreiter."

At this point you could be forgiven for thinking I've run out of intros for these after action reports.  I like to think of it as giving the rankers their day in the sun or rather snow.  At Dave's request we played scenario J142 - Penny Packets which sees a somewhat random selection of German armour plus the brave volksgrenadiers of the 26th advancing against American positions near Bastogne.  The Americans scramble to throw whatever they can get their hands on in the path of the Germans.  Snow is falling and in the distance can be heard the sound of a terminally underappreciated gefreiter muttering to himself.  Victory is measured by CVP and in addition to hurting Americans the Germans also gain VP by exiting off the west edge of the board.

I have an all arms (and quite a few legs) assault force consisting of a dozen squads evenly split between elite and first line urged on by a trio of officers including a capable 9-1. They have a heavy machine gun and a pair of mediums plus three light machine guns and two panzerschrecks.  On turn 3 I would receive six more first line squads as reinforcements.  Joining the volksgrenadiers on turn one is a mess of light armour including two armoured cars with 20mm guns, two halftracks carrying 75mm guns and a halftrack with a halfsquad of passengers and an unassuming AAMG that can be unloaded as another HMG.  On turn 2 these are backed up by a PzIVJ, a pair of StuGIIIGs and a Wirbelwind tank with quad 20mm producing a staggering 20 IFE firepower.

Dave for his part is thinly stretched at the beginning with only six squads, three first line and three second with a pair of MMGs and a couple of bazookas.  He also has a pair of Sherman tanks and three M7 SP guns.  By SSR if Dave so chooses he can at the start of his Prep Fire phase remove concealment from said M7s and place a TI counter on them.  In return he gains 2CVP.  Dave decided he preferred to keep concealment.  Dave also gets three groups of reinforcements; a clutch of M3 halftracks along with six more squads, another group of halftracks (including a pair of M16 meatchoppers) and finally on turn three four M5 light tanks.

Below is the at start set up.  My motley collection of halftracks and armoured cars would enter (cautiously) on the north east edge.  I was uneasily aware that the large concealment marker probably indicated a Sherman (correct) but there was nothing for it.  As you can guess from the below I had the bulk of my force set up hoping to plough through the northern woods for an exit victory while a smaller force in the centre would see what they could do to occupy Dave's attention in that region.

Set up.  Dave can be blamed for the lack of atmospheric snow setting

I pushed my infantry forward, the guys in the north creeping through the woods and their compatriots in the centre spreading out and trying not to make targets of themselves.  Then came the vehicles where I attempted the difficult feat of bringing on a group of vehicles while simultaneously avoiding the line of sight of the Sherman gazing down the board.  There was one exception, a halftrack mounting a 75mm which I risked sending across to support my centre infantry.  Dave took a shot and the mask was dropped, there was a Sherman in all its glory.  He labelled it Kickass which was unfortunate in retrospect.

Most of my vehicles are lurking on the sidelines terrified by a single Sherman

In his turn Dave took a bold move.  Seeing the gaggle of light armour milling about at the other end of the board he roared Kickass forward in the hopes of inflicting mass slaughter on the thin skinned vehicles.  Desperate times call for desperate measures.  The 20mm cannon on my PSW 234s qualified (just barely) for deliberate immobilisation.  In my next turn I offered up a prayer to the dice gods and attempted to immobilise Kickass.  I rolled snake eyes and suddenly Kickass's crew was fleeing their crippled tank before the unbelieving eyes of my light armour who had already started letters to their families.  On a somewhat saner level Dave moved his M7s behind a hedge sheltered by his infantry to create a gunline which would cause me serious issues.

With immobilising his Sherman as a starting point my second turn went well, my infantry in the centre pushed forward and I sent the halftrack with the hmg over to help out.  My troops in the north pushed cautiously through the trees while down in the south my pair of StuGs rolled on to deal with the other Sherman which had rolled forward to take up a position behind a convenient hedge.

End of my second turn

Little did I know that the seeds of my defeat had been sown.  The simple truth was I was being too cautious.  Mindful of the CVP rules I was edging slowly forwards fearful of risks, particularly in the north but also in the centre which gave Dave's reinforcements time to arrive and bolster his defences.  Already by the end of his second turn his halftracks had rolled on to thicken out his gun line and give a little more backup to his infantry.  

I was finally gripped by a sense of urgency.  I rolled a couple of support vehicles over to help my infantry in the centre which had so far achieved nothing except avoiding getting killed.  Once there they succeeded in driving American infantry from their defences leaving my infantry nothing to do except move forward and mop up.  Well move forward through the concentrated firepower of M7s, halftracks and such of his infantry as had survived  This proved problematic at best.

 

So finally starting to get somewhere

I was finally taking the chances I should have taken at the beginning when the Americans had much less firepower on the board.  As a result I took the commensurate casualties, a 75mm halftrack was destroyed by an M7 as it crossed the road and my wirbelwind contributed to the Allied cause by rolling boxcars on its first shot of the day.  I was going forward but Dave's main defences hadn't been scratched and now my casualties started to mount.

I've waited too long and the mountain is getting harder to climb

Things weren't helped when his remaining Sherman scored a possible shock on one of my StuGs which in the fullness of time became absolutely shocked, unconfirmed killed and most definitely killed.  A whole bunch of German reinforcements came on apparently for the sole purpose of proving that they wouldn't be able to get anywhere useful before the game ended.  To be fair the game ended a little earlier than they were anticipating.  

Now somewhat desperate I pushed my PzIV forward in the north.  Dave had brought on one of his M5s to bolster his infantry defences.  I looked at the armour on my PzIV and thought I could take the risk.  Dave proved me wrong by promptly immobilising the thing.  Furthermore he immobilised it in a position where it was unlikely to take any further part in proceedings.  The crew fled the vehicle and were promptly gunned down.  That was pretty much it.  My armour had been reduced to a single StuG and a dwindling number of very thin skinned support vehicles and Dave's defences were very much intact.  Not even my surviving StuG taking revenge by killing his remaining Sherman could counter the general situation and I gave Dave the concession rather than suffer a long, lingering death.

The end, both Shermans are gone but that's about it for good news

I have to admit I was disappointed in my performance in this scenario.  Which is one reason why it took me over a month to write this AAR.  Certainly after Dave ran one of his Shermans into harms way early on in the piece the scenario was there for me to win and I botched it by simple cowardice and refusal to take risks until too late in the day when the risks had become decidedly greater.  Congratulations to Dave who (one Sherman related piece of insanity notwithstanding) played a skillful defensive game but serious demerits to me for not even making the game competitive.

A gaggle of disconsolate German prisoners barely looked up when an American soldier ordered them to their feet.  The exception was a sole gefreiter who leapt up eyes gleaming.

"I'll bet you want to know my rank and my name," he said eagerly.

"Nope," replied the American.  "couldn't give damn.  Just get your ass to the rear with the rest of them."

The column of prisoners, including a bitterly sobbing gefreiter, marched slowly westward.  From a nearby hill a pair of German officers watched it through binoculars.

"Hans-Adam seems a bit upset," commented one to his comrade.

"All the Ketterls are a bit temperamental," replied the other.  "Runs in the family I believe.  Everybody knows the Ketterls have a low boiling point."

Birthday Greetings # 86

 So what do you do if you wind up as the ruler of a nation so small that you could cast a handkerchief across it?  Such was the dilemma that faced Bernard VII the Bellicose when he inherited the lordship of Lippe at the age of nearly one.  To be fair he probably didn't start considering the issue until a few years latter.  The epithet he was awarded gives you some indication of how he solved his problem.  Lippe was one of those tiny little statelets of the Holy Roman Empire that had been carved out of a larger entity whose ruler had got on the wrong side of the emperor.  Over the years the territory of Lippe was divided between various sub branches of the family, reunited when certain branches undertook a little constructive incest or did the decent thing and died out entirely and were divided once again when a new bunch of descendants were produced who all needed titles and approximately fifteen square feet of territory to rule.  It was this peculiarity of inheritance that made the Holy Roman Empire not so much a nation as a geo-political kaleidescope.

At its largest point Lippe was about 50km east to west and roughly the same north/south.  So Lippe was obviously a genuine economic and military powerhouse able to raise whole dozens of soldiers to serve in its wars.  They certainly got their share of experience under Bernard VII's rule.  While rumours that he punched the Price Bishop of Liege in the face when asked what he was going to do when he grew up are probably unfounded it cannot be denied that from the moment he took control of his handful of square kilometres of dirt farmers he got into feud after feud.  "Feuds" incidentally was what wars were called when the participants were too small and insignificant to have their squabbles dignified with the term "war".  Kings and princes had wars; counts, knights and local bishops had feuds.  Peasants died whatever the terminology.

Over the course of an eighty year reign Bernard managed to ally with the Landgrave of Lower Hesse against that worthy's brother and then allied with his own brother against the Landgrave of Lower Hesse.  On one occasion one of these feuds got seriously out of control and some of his enemies called in a Bohemian army (Bohemia then being a significant territory and a serious player in imperial politics).  The Bohemians then ravaged Lippe (which must have taken all of twenty five minutes) and levelled the town of Blomberg.  Bernard apparently wasn't present at the time.

Eventually most of these feuds got patched up.  At some point somebody would complain to the emperor and he would tell everybody to calm down.  They almost never did but resorted to the courts instead.  Warfare was never absent from the Holy Roman Empire but neither was lawfare and most rulers considered themselves unqualified if they couldn't conduct both simultaneously.  In between fighting with virtually everyone he ever met our birthday boy somehow found the time to get married and have seven children.  Strangely there were some bits of Lippe left for them to inherit once Bernard went off to quarrel with God (to take an extremely optimistic view on where he wound up in the afterlife).

Travelling Pathetically - Wacking Big Monitor Lizard Edition

 Well I guess the title spoils the surprise.  I'll just have to see how much padding I can insert before we get to the big reveal.  A slightly more adventurous outing in my ongoing attempts to decripple myself.  I headed down to Gray's Point to wander into the fringes of the Royal National Park.  Gray's Point is on the outskirts of Sydney in much the same way as Paris is on the outskirts of London.  Having taken two buses and a taxi simply to arrive at my starting point I was wondering if I would ever make it home even before beginning my walk.  The walk itself was nothing too strenuous, a six and a half kilometre round trip but there would be a certain amount of up and down.  At least I assumed there would be as at some point I would reach the Hacking River which, not being immediately present at my starting point, implied a certain amount of down.

A modest beginning

It has to be said the beginning of the walk was underwhelming as I entered the untamed bush courtesy of a fire trail.  I'm not crazy about walking along firetrails, I like the bush to be a little closer and if possible shielding me from the sun.  Still having committed myself I dutifully set out along what was essentially a well maintained road.  The day was warm and to stave off boredom if not heat exhaustion I took photos of random bits of bushland from my secure position in the middle of a strip of bare earth.

Things improved a bit as a narrow path paralleling the firetrail presented itself for my walking pleasure.  It was essentially a footpath and hardly rough going but at least I could reach out and touch the trees rather than merely view them from a distance.  The path justified its existence when it diverted briefly to take me to a lookout where I could gaze over the bush with glimpses of river lurking promisingly amongst the undergrowth.  Delight at such a sight was moderated by the knowledge that I would have to travel over the bush in order to reach the river.

There's a river down there somewhere

One thing that had occupied me was the lack of birds.  OK I had essentially been walking down a street but still the absence of flying things vexed me.  I paused for a rest, I had after all been walking for at least ten minutes by this time, and took out my camera to photograph a piece of bush.  Completely uninvited a very small bird photobombed my picture.  If you can't find it, it's the small smudge of blue in the middle of the next picture.  It's hardly a great photo but those birds flit about so much I've never been able to take even a halfway decent one before.

You may need to zoom in for this one

The firetrail came to an end just at the official start of the National Park.  Up until now the bush had been walking through had been unofficial and definitely not royal at all.  I walked past a small patch of spear grass adorned with a sign informing those who cared to read that this particular plant was vital to the local indigenous people who apparently used it for spears (obviously), firelighters, boat repair, refrigerator maintenance and as the basis of their space programme.  My own experience with spear grass being limited to a childhood encounter when I had grabbed a bunch to stop me falling and had wound up with interestingly red hands I gave it a wide berth and kept on walking.

With the bush now immediately present rather than viewed from a distance I was able to take a photo of the Clare McIntyre memorial fungus.  It wasn't a particularly good example if I'm being honest, it was rather desperate and scraggly looking.  Possibly it can gain a mention in the special needs section of the competition.

Distinctly disheveled fungus

Now that the firetrail was a thing of the past I couldn't help but notice a general downward trajectory in my path.  Somewhere down there was a river and I was determined to reach it.

Obviously the river was insinuating itself into the narrative and it seems like a good time to give you a few historical facts.  The Hacking River was named after Evangeline Hacking a young lady of good breeding who had been exiled to the New South Wales colony after embarrassing her family by cavorting with one of her servants during a family game of blind mans bluff.  Once here she met and swiftly married Lord Rupert Cough and became Lady Hacking-Cough.  Lord Rupert was an entomologist who had come to these shores to study both the colony's varied insect life and the effects of a hot sun on a latex fetish.  Soon their outrageous lifestyle shocked public sensitivities so greatly that the couple fled to Argentina where they opened a brothel and set up an aardvark farm.  One of the conditions of their departure from the colony was that a river be named after them and the authorities picked the most remote one they could find at the time to honour their pledge.  This is the sort of gem you just don't find in history books.

But back to the walk.  As I said I was going down, down is always pleasant although it is tempered by the knowledge that if you're going down then at some point you will have to start going up.  Unless you want to spend the rest of your life there.  Along the way I took a picture of some photogenic bush because these things I do.

Photogenic bush, sunlight etc etc

A small creek stopped and posed for a photo as I passed.  It seemed a little needy quite frankly but it begged and trickled so nicely that I indulged it.  I'm a pushover for a needy creek.  In return it directed me to a somewhat more acceptable candidate for the Clare McIntyre prize.

A needy creek

And a somewhat more impressive looking fungus

Leaving the creek behind, despite it's desperate cries, I headed on down towards the river.  The first thing I encountered when I reached it was a car park.  The second thing I encountered was a bunch of people fishing.  That was a slight let down it has to be admitted.  After traipsing through the bush I came across a bunch of people who arrived at the same location in air conditioned comfort.  On the other hand I took photos of ducks.  As you do.  And the most impressive fungus yet.

Duck!

Now that is a fungus

And these are more ducks

And finally the oft mentioned but rarely seen river

The river was indeed appealing and the presence of people fishing held out the hope that aquatic life abounded beneath the surface, at least until these people finished fishing.  But I turned my back, not for me hanging around with other human beings on a well mowed piece of riverbank.  I plunged back into the bush, for about thirty seconds until I realised that I had to walk along the access road if I wanted to continue my journey.  Sheepishly I slunk back past the fishers who were very kind and kept their sniggers to a minimum.  What the access road accessed was another patch of riverbank also populated by fishers, picnickers and general recreaters.  As I approached a ghastly noise assaulted my ears.

"Ah," I thought, "cockatoos".  Just for once I was right.  How many cockatoos there were I couldn't tell but from a distance it sounded like power saws were being used to conduct a massacre.  I paused amidst the cacophony to take the cockatoo photos that I assumed would be available.  A solitary cockatoo detached itself from the noise and took up a position where pictures were possible.

Aforementioned cockatoo

in flight

With the photos taken and my ears bleeding I stumbled away from the plaza of noise following, at last, a track through the bush which would in the fullness of time lead back to my starting point.  Kookaburras made their presence felt but too high up in the trees for good photos.  Below is the best of the bad photos.

Kookaburras on a branch

After skillfully avoiding high velocity kookaburra shit I headed on down the path where the trees had gathered close to produce a sort of glade effect.  Sunlight and shadow alternated in patches and a small trickle of water had produced a shaded, if somewhat smelly, pond roughly where the path might be if there wasn't a pond in the way.  The day was hot and this area was cool and I paused to take stock, catch my breath and generally convince my body to keep stumbling on for a little while longer.  I was just about to leave when a rustle in the bushes caught my ear.  Actually it wasn't a rustle, it was more of a stamping crunch.  I stared and before my startled eyes a reptile head appeared.  After a while a certain amount of reptile body joined it.  By implication there was almost certainly a reptile tail in the vicinity but I couldn't see that.  A large lizard shouldered its way through the bushes and stuck its head out.  I'm calling it a monitor but in actual fact I have no idea what it was.

Also I say large; large is a relative term.  As reptiles go it was quite tiny by comparison with say dinosaurs or crocodiles but by comparison with the cute little lizards you get in your garden it was freaking immense.  It also didn't seem to mind posing for the camera.  Unfortunately the sun dappled glade I had been enjoying just a second ago now worked against me.  The monitor's colouration seemed perfectly designed to conceal it in, for example, a sun dappled glade.  I took a large number of not terribly good photos.  One or two turned out all right but in most you have to look hard for the monitor before realising this was a photo you took before the monitor presented itself.  Apparently understanding my difficulty the monitor left its perch and wandered down to the path itself to pose for more photos while fossicking for something edible which it apparently found for it wandered off again with something large hanging from its mouth which I earnestly hope was organic and not plastic.

A sun dappled glade.  No there isn't a monitor in this photo, he's somewhere off to the left

There is however a monitor in this photo

And this one

And this one

And this one

And this one

And this one

It's fair to say I went a little overboard with the monitor photos but I've never seen such a large one in the wild before and particularly not one so accommodating towards photos.  By the end of it I was suffering from reptilian overdose.  As I left I passed a much smaller lizard sunning itself on a rock and I took a few photos all of which were terrible.  I blamed the sun but user error is the more likely reason.  This lizard would probably fit in the monitor's forearm.

A small and badly photographed lizard

I still had a couple of kilometres to walk including an unexpected reunion with the river when I took a wrong turn and some gasping and scrambling as the path took a sudden left turn to climb several contour lines close to simultaneously in a desperate attempt to return me to the altitude I had started at.  I didn't care, well I did at the time because I was exhausted but I didn't care in the larger scheme of things.  Nothing could beat the monitor on this walk and best of all my knee behaved itself and didn't present any more than the standard "you're unfit and you did exercise you stupid bastard" pains.  I'm writing this blog entry the next day and my knee is still a little sore but nowhere as bad as I had feared.  Possibly the physio and exercises (yes I'm doing them) are actually doing some good.

Silly After Action Report - Ciao Gurkha Ciao

 Maggiore Golfo di Carpentaria gazed around at the positions occupied by his soldiers.  At least he assumed they were his soldiers, there didn't seem to be any other officers of his rank nearby prepared to put up their hand.  To his right two soldiers were digging a foxhole, at the speed they were going it should be ready by the mid 1950s.  Further along the ridge a soldier was striking a 45mm mortar repeatedly with a rock.  "Care and maintenance," a caporal had explained to him although di Carpentaria's doubts were raised when one of the soldiers held up a bent firing pin with an expression of confusion.  Di Carpentaria cleared his throat.  Nothing happened, he tried again somewhat louder, still nothing.  The caporal stuck two fingers in his mouth and issued a piercing whistle.  Now at last the soldiers looked up.  Di Carpentaria began his speech.

"Brave soldiers of the Pistoia," he began and stopped at the confused looks on his men's faces, "that's you!"  Faces cleared and the maggiore continued.  "In defeat after defeat you have covered yourselves in glory.  Wherever Italian arms have been crushed by the enemy there has been the Pistoia fighting hard to no avail.  Now is your opportunity to do it one more time," di Carpentaria stopped at that point uneasily aware this wasn't the rousing call to battle he had intended.  Fortunately most of his men didn't seem to be listening.  He decided to get to the good bit quickly.

"But today there will be no last stand.  No desperate fight against the odds.  When the enemy attacks we shall show them our steel, and then we will sneak away to fight another day."  He definitely had his men's attention now even if the "fight another day" line had dimmed the hope engendered by the term "sneak away". 

"We shall fight hard," continued di Carpentaria, "and when we are defeated we will withdraw to more advantageous positions."  A hand shot up from the ranks.

"What are more advantageous positions?"

"Ones a little further away from the enemy," replied di Carpentaria.  The soldiers nodded, that certainly made sense to them.  "Now to your positions for the Gurkhas are coming and keep an eye on the exits."

Italians vs Gurkhas, how could I resist?  This is Schwerpunkt scenario SP242 - Ciao Gurkha Ciao which pits the brave men of the Pistoia autotransportabile division against the 1/9th Gurkhas of the 4th Indian division.  What could possibly go wrong?  My regular opponent Dave very kindly agreed to play this despite a 2-1 win/loss record for the Italians on ROAR.  I graciously conceded the balance and swapped out an Italian heavy machine gun for its medium counterpart.  

The Italians are defending a ridge line against attacking Gurkhas and victory is gained by CVP.  So far so normal but in addition to battlefield casualties the Italians gain points for all units successfully exited off the north edge of the board after turn four.  So the job of the Italians is to hold the Gurkhas at arms length long enough to make a frenzied dash for the exit at the appropriate time.  To do this I had ten squads of Italians, two elite and eight bersaglieri guided by three officers, the best a 9-1 the worst a lowly 7-0.  These forces have two medium machine guns (after balance swapping) a light machine gun, a 45mm mortar and a 75mm gun.  They also have eight trench counters for a combination of defence and covered exit routes.

Coming on hard and determined to give the Italians a kukri lesson (I'm sorry, a terrible joke but I couldn't resist) are Dave's hardy Nepalese shock troops.  On the first turn come nine squads (four elite and five first line) with an mmg, two lmgs and a 2inch mortar plus two officers.  On turn two another three squads (one elite, two first line) arrive with a 9-1, lmg, mmg and another mortar in tow.

 

 Above is my set up.  The Italians are somewhat constrained as to how they set up having to be within four hexes of three specific locations, one on each hilltop.  The end result is three resistance points.  The one on the left has a 45mm mortar, the middle and right are anchored by mmgs.  The gun set up where it couldn't be seen but where hopefully it will give an almighty shock to whatever Gurkhas first breast the crestline.  The middle force with my best officer (and the gun) was my stay behind force who would contend with the Gurkhas to the last.  Those on the flanking hills would look to flee at a convenient moment.  Each of them has a conveniently placed building in their rear which might facilitate their departure.

By SSR Dave was allowed to place smoke in two hexes not actually occupied by Italians and focussed on the centre and left (ok, I know that's actually my right but its just easier to refer to it as the left since that's how the map is laid out).  With bullet catching halfsquads Dave's Gurkhas came on heading for the high ground at a pace that can best be described as modest.  I gained my first VP when a 1-2 SFF shot wiped out a halfsquad.  In return I managed to malf and subsequently destroy the 45mm mortar without so much as gaining acquisition.  

As the game went on we learnt three things.  Firstly despite that awesome first shot the men of the Pistoia were not exactly marksmen.  The second thing we learnt was that they made up for it with sheer grit.  2MCs?  My Pistoia heroes laughed at such things and Dave's Gurkhas struggled to make progress.  The final thing we learnt was that while Dave's troops rarely broke under the Pistoia's somewhat wild fire they took every opportunity to pin.  Broken Gurkha's were a rarity but Gurkhas frozen in place littered the battlefield.

Dave essentially ignored the right flank focussing on the centre and left

In my first turn I fired largely ineffectually at his troops on the left (although I did gain a pin result) and moved my right hand mmg team to where it had a line of sight less affected by Dave's smoke.  I also sent a squad into the foxholes on the right hand cliff.  Dave's reinforcements would be coming on the right hand board edge and I hoped to greet them with a hail of 2-2 and 1-2 shots.  In the centre I huddled under my concealment counters and hoped the smoke would be an inconvenient for Dave as it was for me.

In his next turn Dave moved his mortar team to a smoke convenient location while his remaining troops incremented forward (less the occasional pinned unit).  I continued with my somewhat futile shots at whatever troops presented themselves although I was looking at the assault moving and pin results and counting up the remaining turns more than a little hopefully.

Two turns have gone and Dave doesn't seem to have got very far.

In my turn Dave's kill stack which had been banging away at concealed Italians in trenches protected by smoke to no avail finally got some worthwhile results and my best officer and mmg team crumbled under the pressure.  The rest of my defensive position held along the line and I started eyeing the rear with a speculative gaze.  I once again managed to pin one of his squads on the left which so far had made heavy weather of their attempts to shoot me out of my trench line.

In his third turn Dave's reinforcements arrived.

"But wait," I hear you cry, "weren't they supposed to arrive in the second turn?"  Er yes, about that.  I set up this game and sent it to Dave who failed to do his due diligence.  I had misread the scenario card and put Dave's reinforcements next to turn three which Dave happily accepted.  So Dave's reinforcements late but eager turned up ready to join the fray.  The only thing was there wasn't much fray to join.  Dave's forces were concentrated in the left and centre and his reinforcements probably felt a little abandoned as the entered under the eagle eye gazed of my Pistoia sharpshooters in shellholes on the clifftop.  Said sharpshooters proved that while they may have had eagle eyes they apparently also had eagle talons when it came to operating rifles and the reinforcements made it through what I had optimistically considered a kill zone with no ill effects.  I don't think there was even a pin.

On the left and centre Dave's mortar went on a smoky rate tear before running out of smoke rounds completely.  With my mmg team out of the running and the only other automatic weapon in the centre covered in smoke Dave moved his kill stack forward (except for one squad and lmg who pinned) and started climbing towards my suddenly attenuated positions in the centre.

My centre is starting to crumble but Dave still has pinning issues.  Over on the left my boys hold firm.

There was little I could do but cling on.  My exit pass wasn't valid until the next turn.  With his clifftop position now useless my troops there moved down close to the exit.  Supposedly they were there to support their comrades in the building but I think we all know they just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.  For some reason I thought that a concealed squad in a wooden building had a decent chance of surviving against Dave's reinforcements.  I had visions of spraying the open approaches with fire as he advanced towards me.  These visions were swiftly and brutally disabused.

Dave's turn four was a series of ups and downs.  Over on the right his mmg team blasted my boys in the building and the others moved up to capture the broken remnants.  On the left he pushed a squad into CC and the kukris came out with devastating effect.  In the centre though Italian arms covered themselves in glory.  In fact there was so much glory on their arms some of it trickled down onto their legs.  With broken troops in front of him and his only opposition seeming to come from a single squad/lmg combo still shrouded in smoke Dave moved two squads, his 8-1 leader and mmg team up onto the hill.  My 75mm only needed one shot but in fact it got rate and took another as well.  When the shrapnel had subsided the officer alone remained while the remnants of his command had surrendered to the smoke shrouded squad they had disdained.  This relieve pressure immensely firstly on the immediate tactical situation but also from a CVP perspective.  I had lost a couple of squads and this easily made up the imbalance.  Over on the left Dave had moved his forces up close challenging my men to a stand up fight but my guys checked the turn counter and decamped for the rear.

Turn 4, time to leave

Dashing along trenches my left hand force fled towards the exit and there wasn't a lot that Dave could do about it.  I exited several squads off the board and their heroics completed the gun crew and an 8-1 managed to join them.  Dave did his best to mop up the surviving Italians on the board who were obviously not going to get away but there wasn't enough time or remaining Italians.  My squad with the lmg who had done nothing all game cheerfully jumped into CC with his officer, killed him and helped themselves to a medium machine gun.  Dave did manage to capture a broken squad and a 7-0 leader on the left but by then the big fish were long gone.  A final desperate charge against my mmg team on the right (who had done very little all game except keep out of everyone's way) resulted in a couple of broken squads and little else.  So victory to Neil just for a change.  I think I made my best tactical decision when I selected the scenario.  Many thanks to Dave for his patience and good humour.  Next time we're playing something of his choosing.

The end, there are very few Italians to be seen

 

Maggiore di Carpentaria cheered his men as they stumbled into their new defensive positions situated as promised some distance from the knife happy maniacs they had just been fighting.

"Well done lads, I knew you could do it.  Once again the Pistoia shines in defeat."

"Excuse me sir," said the caporal, "exactly how long have you been here?"

"Pretty much since I finished giving that speech."