Chicken Run

 I received a call from my Tasmanian correspondent the other day.  This is unusual as she will usually go to quite extraordinary lengths to avoid having anything to do with me.  There was obviously something up, her cheeks were flushed and there was an air of suppressed excitement about her.

"You'll never guess what's happened," she announced.

"Has somebody in Tasmania discovered fire?"

She invited me to do creative things to myself with a garden hose and I thought the conversation might be over but she was obviously bursting to tell someone, I presumed her family were all out of town.

"There has been drama," she announced portentiously.  "There have been police, firearms, a helicopter and chickens."  For a moment I thought she must have got hold of video of my last birthday party but no, this was all new drama.

The story began innocently enough with my correspondent hard at work (that's her story and she's sticking to it) when the clatter of a helicopter woke her up, I mean disturbed her at her labours.  A rescue helicopter was circling overhead so vigorously that she could almost see the pilot throwing up over the side. "Ah," I thought, "here is a tale of someone lost in Hobart's outer suburbs (which are about a two minute drive from the inner suburbs) and needing aerial assistance." But no gentle reader for in a stunning plot twist it turned out that the helicopter had been hired by the Hobart police for use in a pursuit operation.  I guess in the meantime people just had to rescue themselves.

It turns out that an individual took offence to police questions about his possession of firearms and leapt into his car in an ill advised attempt to flee justice or at least the police.  Drawn by some invisible compulsion this malefactor had raced in the direction of my correspondents home while the police frantically chased and phoned a rescue helicopter for back up.  This makes as much sense as a surgeon seeking the assistance of a parking attendant for an appendectomy but my correspondent swears its true.

Eventually a series of spikes across the road brought the careening vehicle to a halt (ok I don't know if the vehicle was careening, forgive me for trying to inject a little colour into the story and actually careening involves beaching a wooden ship so you can scrape barnacles off the hull so maybe just ignore it completely) but the excitement didn't end there.  His vehicle having failed him the suspect (actually pretty certain) leapt into a pair of legs and continued to flee.  He didn't get far however.  Spotting a convenient henhouse he threw himself inside it and attempted to conceal himself among the feathers.  Fortunately for those of you who are supporters of law and order the police in Hobart are smarter than that (just) and were not fooled by the sudden disappearance of their quarry.

With a helicopter overhead and a drone buzzing nearby (its not entirely clear whether this was a police drone or just someone hoping to catch a glimpse of a neighbour in a bikini) heavily armed police stormed the henhouse in the most over the top assault since the ATF took down the Branch Davidian compound in Waco.  There was drama, shouting, drone buzzing, sirens, lights and all of the usual elements of state sponsored excitement.  One individual alone kept a clear head amid the chaos.  A chicken sitting on her eggs simply remained there incubating with enviable calm as a bunch of individuals supposedly far higher up the evolutionary tree went nuts around her.  The man was eventually dragged out and charged with "everything".  I have it on good authority that the chicken's name is Scruffy.

Silly After Action Report - Tridentina Avanti

Tenente Leonardo di Tartarughe-Ninja stopped stumbling blindly through the frozen waste for a moment and gazed across the countryside.  The only thing that confused him more than the German's apparent desire for this dump was the fact that the Russians seemed determined to hang on to it.  The evidence was incontrovertible however, several hundred thousand screaming Soviet soldiers backed up by tanks was a pretty convincing argument.  di Tartarughe-Ninja brushed the snow off one of his hands.  One of his fingers came with it.  That was frostbite for you.  Behind him were forty thousand freezing, starving weaponless soldiers looking for the most convenient exit from the Soviet Union, ahead of him was...di Tartarughe-Ninja blinked.  Was that General Reverberi climbing on top of an armoured car?  The words "Tridentina Avanti!" made their way to him through the frozen air.  Tartarughe-Ninja glanced at his incriminating shoulder patch, was it too late to pretend he was from the Sforzesca division?

You know I did quite a lot right in this scenario.  Unfortunately what I did wrong turned out to be utterly catastrophic.  Here I command the brave, if somewhat chilly, alpini of the Tridentina as they attempt to break out of the Soviet encirclement after the Battle of Stalingrad developed in a manner not necessarily in their favour.  To win I have to clear the Soviet defenders from a village, specifically I need to ensure there are no good order non-crew Soviet MMC within five hexes of 44Q5 and 12Q5.  This effectively means taking out the lot unless the defender makes an absolute pigs breakfast of their deployment.

The Italians it must be said have provided their best.  I command a dozen elite squads and five more first line bullet catchers.  These units have two mmgs, three lmgs and a DC, they are commanded by four officers and General Reverberi.  Let's take a moment to examine General Reverberi, a mighty 10-2 he dominates the battlefield. Italian units with a line of sight to his august presence have their morale and ELR increased by one.  Also once in the game assuming Reverberi is still up and functioning the Axis player (me) may declare his units fanatic for the rest of that player turn.  Supporting the Tridentina's despairing charge is a battery of Italian artillery firing off its last rounds and some German armour somewhat reluctantly helping their allies escape the mess they had been dropped into.  Two PzIVHs, a couple of second hand French Renault 35Rs and a pair of PSW222(L) armoured cars provide some extra punch for the desperate alpini.

My opponent Dave commands the Soviets who having captured the only shelter for miles around are disinclined to let it go without a fight.  Dave's force comes in two packets.  Entrenched along a railway embankment are five squads (two first line and three conscript) along with a pair of lmgs and a single 8-0 leader.  In the village proper are eleven and a half more squads; one and a half elite, six first line and four conscript.  They have a hmg, three lmgs, a pair of 50mm mortars an antitank rifle and two 45LL anti tank guns.  They are led by a 9-1 and an 8-1 but their principle motivation is a desire not to sleep on the open steppe in midwinter.  Circling above is air support in the form of one FB without bombs.  It will leave after three turns.

By SSR I could designate a certain amount of my at start force to come on later from a flanking position to hopefully catch the Soviets out of position.  I allocated four elite squads, an 8-1, 7-0 plus an lmg and the DC to this critical role.

Below is the at start set up.  My first objective was to clear the railway embankment.  I wanted to do it fast and without much in the way of casualties.  I would throw virtually my entire armoured force at the defenders and follow up with troops inspired by Reverberi's electrifying presence.  That presence almost vanished immediately when Dave's sniper killed the 9-1 commanding a pair of mmg squads  literally right next to him causing me a near heart attack.  If Reverberi doesn't survive the game the objectives are changed to "within seven hexes" of the victory locations.  Despite Reverberi's presence both squads failed their LLMC and I had two elite squads and an officer down before the fighting really began.

At start.  Dave has his 9-1 and a hmg team in the steeple which is the only level 2 location on the board

Despite my sniper induced coronary things went almost disturbingly well in that first turn.  My tanks rolled up on to his foxholes locking his troops in terrified impotence as my alpini rushed up, fixed bayonets and plunged into CC.  I took prisoners at every opportunity (conscripts were too tempting to resist) as I didn't want Dave low crawling his broken vermin away from me.  This would come back to bite me later.  By the end of the Soviet first turn I had wiped out his embankment force and was looking towards the village proper.  His hmg team had been largely stymied by intervening buildings so far but I would need to cross some open ground now.

So far so good. Now for the difficult bit

Reverberi successfully rallied one of my broken squads and I started to move into the village proper.  Dave had a squad and lmg in forward building to the left so I sent three regular squads and a Renault to deal with it.  The Renault sleazed it and then waited patiently, engine running, while my squads got into a position to place fire on it.  

Dave had revealed (and broken) one of his 45mm pointing down a street I needed to run up.  He repaired the gun on the next rally phase which was annoying.  I pushed forward some squads into the village skipping through conveniently placed armoured cars until I met his first line of resistance, a 9-1 with an elite squad and atr. Suddenly my armoured cars looked vulnerable.  I had already got a bit strung out, this was hardly a wave of Italian troops slamming into the enemy, it was more like a steady trickle but at least I was getting somewhere. I rolled the second Renault up in support.  Over on the left I had sent both PzIVs to start dealing with the troops in the church.  I had plans of covering the hmg team in smoke to allow my troops more freedom to move.  That plan died when Dave revealed his other 45mm and suddenly my PzIVs had their own problem.

Pushing somewhat incoherently forward

I had not yet got a critical mass of infantry forward to attack the village (what is a critical mass? Is it a service by a bad tempered priest?) but I attempted to probe with an armoured car an attempt which was stopped when Dave probed right back with an atr.  His recently repaired atg immobilised the supporting Renault and things were looking a little problematic on the right.  I called in my artillery more in the hope than the expectation and they responded by dropping a spotting round behind their own infantry.  Over on the left my PzIV had broken his guncrew and removed one at least notional threat.  Oh yes and Dave's air support turned up, suddenly crossing open ground had become even more hazardous.

Suddenly things have become more difficult

Despite the fact that General Reverberi was bravely hiding in a foxhole in the rear I attempted to press forward with my attack.  I corrected my artillery and brought down a 70mm concentration which hit friend and foe alike.  I think you can guess what happened here.  My guys broke under the metal rain while Dave's 9-1 atg team laughed at such inconveniences.  Speaking of inconveniences it turns out that being machine gunned by aircraft is quite the inconvenience.  A couple of my squads managed to get forward but the end of the turn saw several of the travelling in the other direct stumbling under the burden of blue & white DM counters.  Dave's atg also managed to take out my remaining armoured car although it bounced several shells off my immobilised Renault.  Renault may not have made great tanks and they certainly didn't make fast tanks but they definitely made solid tanks.  To add insult to injury the three squads that were trying to take out Dave's lmg squad only managed a casualty reduction in CC and the melee raged on.  My PzIV took his hmg team under fire without result.

Well there has been a little go forward but three broken units cringe under the dubious guidance of my 7-0

I finally managed to resolve the CC on the left in my favour.  Little did I know that would be the high water mark of my infantry efforts on the left.  My tanks suffered a series of, ahem, mechanical issues.  One broke its CMG, the other broke both the CMG and the BMG next turn it would break its MA into the bargain.  Dave rallied his gun crew and remanned the 45mm.  Things were now looking a little awkward.  Although not as far as Dave was concerned, as with most things its all a matter of perspective.

The attack seems to have stalled somewhat

My turn four arrived and despite the disappointments of the previous turn I felt I was ready to move.  I also had no choice as my reinforcements turned up this turn regardless of the battlefield situation.  My brave immobilised Renault finally met a fiery end but I managed to push a few squads forward to bulk up my force pressing towards the village (pressing towards the village/cringing in houses, as I say its all a matter of perspective).  On the left, freed from the constraints of close combat my three squads and their accompanying Renault pushed forward, one occupied a building next to the graveyard.  The other hopped the wall and sought shelter amongst the tombstones. This turned out to be a mistake as they were broken but at least it could be said they were going forward.  Dave's church dwellers were now menaced if that's the right word (it isn't) by a pair of squads and a pair of tanks albeit with sadly reduced firepower.  The time had come for my masterstroke.  I had selected my reinforcements to come on on the top left so they could hit the church from another direction and hopefully overwhelm Dave's defences.  I sent a pair of half squads forward first to draw the fire of the defenders and with that done charged a stack of three led by an 8-1 to race up, safe from enemy fire and truly put the squeeze on.  Can anybody tell me what I had forgotten boys and girls?  That's right; Dave's air support!  It was really adding insult to injury when Dave rolled a three on his 8-2 point attack.  Three squads and a leader were reduced to a single disrupted half squad.  It has to be admitted that I really suck at this game.

Well that was a chastening experience

There was a brief pause as two million years of evolution disintegrated in a microsecond and I was reduced to a sobbing ape howling anguish while Dave looked the other away and put everything with a sharp edge out of reach.  Having unsuccessfully attempted to impale myself on my dice cup I returned to the game.

There were a couple of minor compensations.  Dave managed to break the 45mm near the church.  Over on the right Dave pulled back his atr team but I managed to break and disrupt the squad on the way in my first real triumph since the first turn.  I was slowly incrementing a serious force in front of the village which was good because over on the left things had gone to crap.  I still had a halfsquad and a DC toting 7-0 of my reinforcements threatening, if that's the right word (it isn't) his church dwellers and I attempted to patch an attack together out of the wreckage.

There is a certain amount of go forward but not enough

The attack didn't really happen although I managed to get a couple of halfsquads forward.  I'm not entirely sure what I was trying to do as they didn't have the muscle to achieve anything.  I suspect I was just trying to do something.  Dave's hmg team broke one of the first line squads who were supposedly attacking from the bottom left and everything settled into surly impotence.  General Reverberi finally mustered up the courage to join his men in the village bringing hope and enthusiasm to any who didn't know the true situation although a sniper managed to break a medium machine gun squad right next to him.  Dave's sniper seemed to chase Reverberi around the board never quite hitting him but keeping me teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown for most of the game.  

Disaster on the left but Reverberi is among his troops. The Italians are saved! Spoiler alert, no they're not

For my second (and as it turned out, last) artillery mission I targeted the church.  What I thought I was going to achieve against troops in stone I don't know, possibly (definitely) I was running out of options.  Once again the spotting round landed behind my troops.  Then disaster struck (again!) on the left.  The prisoners held by the squad broken by his hmg slaughtered their guards and seized their weapons.  Strangely it was this particular disaster that would lose me the game.  A conscript half squad didn't seem like too much of a threat particularly when I had a full squad next door.  Sadly said squad proved to be incapable of hitting a barn from inside it.  Then Dave's sniper bored with terrifying Reverberi wandered over and broke them.  Suddenly the victory locations I had captured at the beginning of the game were under threat and I had virtually nothing to protect them.  Incidentally the CC in the graveyard represents another attempt by prisoners to brutalise their guards.

Oh dear

Despairing of doing anything useful with his atg Dave had decided on another use for his crew.  He moved it into CC with my 7-0 who had been cowering inoffensively in a patch of woods.  It survived the first round of CC albeit wounded.  With few other options I dropped artillery fire on both of them.  The combined firepower of my PzIVs had finally broken him hmg team and things would have been looking good in the church if they weren't looking so damned bad.  On the right I was pushing slowly forward and I pulled out a PzIV to support them.  Reverberi had the bit between his teeth now and was encouraging his troops on even as his left flank folded around him.  In a futile attempt to deal with his recently recuperated half squad I sent a half squad of my own back with an mmg.  The rest kept pressing forward.  Time was running out but so were Dave's defences.

Things are advancing in the village but I have no answer to what is about to happen on the left

My artillery fire killed his guncrew while my wounded 7-0 took the opportunity to battle harden into a heroic 8-0.  How nice that would have been if it was in anyway useful.  Dave's ex-prisoners did indeed begin to make their slow but unopposed way to my rear and, with no infantry in their path to prevent them his mortar team in the graveyard dropped their useless ironmongery and headed in the same direction.  I knew it was over but I tried my last.  At around about this point my surviving Renault managed to score a critical hit on some of the church defenders which at least reduced the number of good order squads in residence.

My mmg team has been utterly unable to slow the progress of his conscripts and now they have friends

The last despairing charge was everything a last despairing charge should be.  Hyped up by Reverberi's enthusiasm (and I suspect PCP) my Italians charged forward into fire.  Casualties were ghastly bodies fell left and right but one squad got into one of Dave's two remaining buildings and Reverberi himself led a newly minted hero into CC in the other.  Over on the left the Renault smashed its way into the church (I told you they were solid) and a PzIV brought his remaining defenders under fire.  In a despairing throw of the dice I sent the other PzIV chasing his squads in my backfield to no avail.  That was it.  My surviving troops in the village might have survived the next turns CC, my Renault and PzIV might have broken his last squad in the church but there was nothing I could do about the troops he had in my rear.  I gave Dave the concession.  I almost won this.  If not for a little bad luck and a lot of stupefying incompetence I might have done so.  Dave and I both enjoyed this game immensely.  It is a little pro-Italian (as witness my almost victory) but nothing that the balance shouldn't deal with.  Heartily recommend, would be defeated again.

Tenente di Tartarughe-Ninja brushed more snow off his hand and watched as another finger dropped off.  They had almost made it but almost didn't cut it and now they were doomed to die in this bleak, frozen land.  A ragged, starving Hungarian artilleryman approached him and begged him for food.  Di Tartarughe-Ninja gave him the finger.

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.