Saturday, June 14, 2025

Silly After Action Report - Bring Up the Guns

Rittmeister Gideap von Dobbin gazed around, proud of his command as they cantered through the woods. The young cavalrymen proud and tall sat astride their mounts their bodies moving in synch with the horses. Von Dobbin's eyes lingered on the gleaming flanks and well shaped fetlocks, the proud mane adorned heads tossing in the morning air. Reluctantly he tore his gaze away, he was already on three cold showers a day and it didn't seem to be making a difference. A sudden spatter of rifle fire split the air and the elegant formation dissolved into something resembling a badly organised gymkhana. Not to another man in the world would von Dobbin admit that he had a signed photograph of the Earl of Cardigan in his wallet but the knowledge of its presence steadied him as he reorganised his men with the assistance of a couple of veteran NCOs who had the bad taste to find the whole thing funny.  Above the sudden chaos he could hear a voice shouting in Dutch.

"What's he saying?" demanded von Dobbin.

"He's asking if we've got our passports," replied one of the troopers.

 Yes we're going old, old school here.  My regular opponent Dave dug this scenario out of some spider infested vault, blew off the dust and presented it for my delectation. This is Scenario G7 which pits some less than enthusiastic Dutch border guards against the horse fondlers of the German 1st Cavalry division. As the Germans my role is to break through the border post, loot the duty free shop and safely shepherd a bunch of wagons towing guns to the other side of the map. As the Dutch Dave's role is to grimly defend passport control to the death.  To achieve my goal I have a dozen elite squads and four leaders the best of which is a none too shabby 9-1.  Four light machine guns are my only support weapons.  This entire force enters on horseback. Additionally five wagons towing guns plod slowly down the road.  The guns can take no part in the battle, their presence is solely for the victory conditions.  I win by exiting at least three of them off the west edge of the board.  Thus Dave can win immediately by killing three wagons.  Situated inconveniently between my forces and the exit are Dave's troops; eight first line squads, two officers and a single light machine gun.  A pair of foxholes and eight wire counters allow Dave to thicken his defences although by special rule the wire can't be set up on roads.

 

At start

Above is the at start set up. The guns have to enter on the road and practically they have to stay on it as they don't have the time to exit if they don't.  The cavalry can enter anywhere on the eastern edge of the map.  I've chosen to send the bulk of my force (preceded by halfsquads) to flank him from the south and hopefully wrest control of the crossroads and exit before my guns arrive.  A smaller force will attack in the centre largely on a fire drawing mission. 

End of German turn 1

The fire drawing mission in the centre was unpleasantly successful as a halfsquad was killed outright by Dutch fire but another hurled itself from its horses to plunge into close combat with a Dutch halfsquad in a foxhole.  The rest of my force swung around from the south some of them heading towards the buildings the remainder dismounting to wriggle through the wire that protected the approaches.  This had its own problems as my best leader and the lmg squad he was leading would spend the next two turns stuck on the wire.  The guns clip clopped slowly forwards trying to get close enough to the exit for a last minute dash while simultaneously staying out of the firing line. 

In his turn Dave raced to reinforce his threatened position with mixed success.  A squad was broken but others pushed forward denying me a cheap triumph.  A halfsquad, still foolishly on horseback was broken (but survived falling off its horse).

In the next turn the horses were abandoned and my troops surrounded the building which was his main centre of resistance (except for those still hung up on the wire). Close combat had actually been my friend for once and I had wiped out his foxhole dwellers.  Of course this was "not without loss" as the propaganda rags delicately put it and a couple of units were cringing in wheatfields trying to find a horse to hide behind.

Things are looking suspiciously good

In his turn Dave started preparing for the future.  He kept a stack of squads out of harms way, funneling them into the main building in just sufficient quantities to force me to keep attacking.  Meanwhile he sent one unit, plus an officer, racing for the rear to take up a position where it could fire on my wagons as they lumbered past. For my part I finally managed to seize the stone building that had been holding me up and was at last able to concentrate some of my firepower against his remaining units (except for the guys still hung up on the wire).  I was starting to get concerned, although things had been going well time was starting to run out and Dave's repositioning of some forces along the road made me tremble for the guns.  Speaking of the guns they had been crawling slowly forward as my own forces advanced but there was still Dutch firepower between them and safety.

End of German turn 3, the guns are creeping forward

With time starting to get a little tight I felt obliged to bring my guns forward despite the fact that Dave had left a single squad as a stay behind force while the rest of his force took up new positions guarding the road. I paid the price as a wagon and gun was shot to pieces but the remainder made their way through the residual and nervously eyed the road ahead now lined with Dutch troops.  In actual fact there weren't too many Dutch troops. Dave had sternly defended the village and had paid the price but you don't need a great deal of firepower to shoot up wagons and I would need to clear the remaining defenders before my wagons could get through.  On the plus side my 9-1 and team had finally torn themselves free of the barbed wire and had dashed towards some horses, it was time to become cavalry again.

I've lost a gun but cleared the village

Mounting up my 9-1 and team galloped through the wheatfield to a location where they could menace his last defenders while other units pushed through the trees and behind hedges.  Dave didn't dare fire, needing to keep his concealment counters in place in the hopes of surviving the last couple of turns and either destroy or scare my guns.  The truth of this became apparent when I managed an advancing fire shot against one of his last units with results that were, shall we say, mixed.  I broke the squad and made the accompanying leader heroic.

Coming to the final showdown

Dave tried his last, sending his newly heroic leader into close combat alone against a squad of mine. He died bravely to no result.  The final turn rolled around.  This wasn't the final turn of the game but the last turn in which my wagons had the movement to make it off the map, it was now or never.  A single Dutch unit barred the way, I had four units within range to shoot at it.  If one of them could break the Dutch unit the game was mine.  As it so happened one of them did.  With resistance eradicated the gun wagons rattled past for a victory in the nick of time.

It is amazing how well this old scenario stood up.  Dave and I both thoroughly enjoyed playing this one.  For once I was happy with my play and didn't make any appalling mistakes.  Dave feels he made a mistake by not putting his foxholes in the south to cover that open flank thus allowing my guys to get up and personal on the first turn.  I greeted my victory with the same good natured restraint that I greet my defeats until Dave threatened to throw something at me if I didn't get off the table.

Rittmeister von Dobbin watched as the guns rattled through.  He eyed up the draft horses; solid, sturdy workers a mile removed from the elegant chargers he was used to but possessed of their own rough charm.  Von Dobbin took a deep breath and dragged his eyes away.  One of his troopers looked at him sympathetically.

"Wanna borrow my hair shirt?" asked the trooper.

"Maybe, yes" replied von Dobbin blushing slightly.  The trooper passed him something. "What's this?"

"Your passport," replied the trooper, "our visas are valid for six months."

 No horses were harmed in the playing of this scenario although Rittmeister von Dobbin's mount has lodged a formal complaint. 

Saturday, June 7, 2025

Travelling Pathetically - Trail Plod

 Those of my readers with a retentive memory will no doubt recall that in May last year I subjected my aging and not particularly healthy body to the UTMB trail run in the Blue Mountains.  Of course if any of my readers had a retentive memory it is unlikely that they would still be readers unless they also have a penchant for masochism.  I did this run (or in my case agonised stagger) with a couple of friends and as May rolled around this year they were keen to do it again.  Despite recollections of the previous year they invited me to accompany them (that's the masochism bit coming out).  Since that time however I have learnt of the parlous state of the cartilage in my knees and was less keen on road testing my body to destruction.  I agreed to join them in the Blue Mountains but while they hurled their (much fitter) bodies at breakneck speeds over twenty two kilometres of terrain carefully selected for its pain infliction qualities I would take a much more modest walk in splendid isolation.  We were staying in Leura and being spectacularly lazy even when I'm exercising I selected a walk that started as close to our accommodation as possible.  The walk I chose was a twelve kilometre stroll from Leura railway station to Wentworth Falls railway station taking in some visually pleasing parts of the Blue Mountains along the way.  Incidentally the walk was only supposed to be ten kilometres but I wandered off the track a few times.

The weather over the previous week had been notable for rain and the day dawned with clouds, mist and occasional drizzle.  Deciding it was on to a good thing the day decided to stick with this weather for the next several hours.  At much earlier than I was comfortable with my friends hurled me from a car in the general vicinity of Leura railway station and headed off to perform feats of athletic magnificence while I coughed and stumbled through the misty streets. 

And I did have to stumble through the streets.  Even in the Blue Mountains the bushland doesn't come right up to the station.  I had to navigate my way through much of Leura before I came to the end of the, I want to say suburb but the inhabitants would probably prefer "village", wankers.  Once I left the, sigh, village the mist came into its own.  Until now it had just been an irritation as I tried to read street signs, now it became an atmospheric accompaniment to the bushland that lurked charmingly vaguely behind its protective coils.

There is bushland behind and occasionally in front of the mist

I descended into the misty, fern strewn wilderness.  Visibility was good enough to see where I was going (insofar as I do that anyway) but poor enough to make every turned corner a surprise.  Around me the sound of water trickling was a constant background.  The rain of the previous few days had encouraged every wannabe creek and rivulet in the vicinity to put on a display of cascading water.  What with the moisture in the air and the occasional rain it would be difficult to get more surrounded by water without actually drowning.  Incidentally most of the photos will be blurry, I'm going to blame the mist and I'd appreciate it if you did too.

As evidence of the previous statement

 Sheer delight overtook me as I cautiously made my way through the dripping, misty forest.  The mist and the dampness, the constant sound of water and the absence of other people made me feel alone in a mysterious wonderland.  I strode cautiously forward, and downward, literally reveling in the dripping ferns and the unfocussed bushland around me.  If you're into sightseeing I guess it would be annoying as all of the wonders of nature were obscured or invisible but I loved it.  The only tiny fly in the ointment was the "downward" nature of my travel.  This strongly implied there would be an "upward" part at some point in the future.

There's a waterfall in there somewhere

 
And this is what the water was falling into

Given that my journey was downward and given I was surrounded by water essentially making the same journey it was only to be expected that I would eventually come to a creek which was the immediate destination of all this extraneous liquid.

Blurry waterfall picture
 

Now creek adjacent I continued along through the mist shrouded forest.  Sorry to keep going on about the mist incidentally but there really wasn't much else to see and anything you did see was sort of poking out of the mist.

You see what I mean?

Of course given the prevailing moisture levels the local fungi thought all of their Christmases had come at once and candidates for the Clare McIntyre memorial fungus were plentiful and richly qualified.  Unfortunately as a photographer I'm less richly qualified as the series of blurred fungus photos on my camera attest.  Since I was taking these photos at a range of about two feet I can't decently blame the mist for the quality and have to fall back on sheer incompetence.  I realise that isn't an excuse but it is most certainly an explanation.

A rare semi adequate fungus shot

Repetition bores some people.  For me it entirely depends on what is being repeated.  As I walked on I encountered everything I've already mentioned.  Ferns, check.  Waterfalls, check.  Creek, check.  Fungus, check.  I greeted each one as though I had never seen an example of their kind before.  My expressions of delight at each (technically) new sight never wavered.

Waterfall  

A somewhat more professional waterfall

 
Ferns plus creek 

Semi competent fungus photo

And a waterfall one more time

It felt like I was alone in the wilderness but while technically this was true it was also true that the "wilderness" was skirting the very edge of the inhabited part of the Blue Mountains.  The true wilderness was further in and further down and I would not be venturing there largely because I can get lost in my apartment.  I plodded on molesting fungi and photographing mist and as I plodded the ground wound inexorably upwards.  Having teased me with creeks and waterfalls the walk had decided it was time I put in a little effort in return for the photographic bounty that had been laid out before me.  

I do not, in my wildest dreams, pretend that I am fit.  I do claim that walking is something that I can usually do without issue.  This claim is immediately put to the test the moment there is the slightest hint of verticality in the path I'm following.  I panted up what in retrospect were gentle rises with frequent pauses that I told myself were to take advantage of photo opportunities and not at all because I needed the black spots to stop swimming in front of my eyes.  It did enable me to take some spectacular mist shots.

There is probably scenery behind the mist

As I gasped and scrambled every tiny diversion was an excuse to grab for my camera and, most importantly, stop moving.  Here the fungus really came to my aid, springing from the ground (and trees) in such ridiculous profusion that this blog entry could really be nothing more than a series of fungus photos (to the extent it isn't already).

Every fungus was a life saver and the photos are marks of gratitude

 
Of course it helps that they were terribly photogenic

 Somewhat to my surprise I stumbled out of the bush and onto a street.  The path I was following dipped in to pay a quick visit to civilisation before heading back to the bush.  I had come up in the vicinity of Fairmont resort and their golfcourse backed onto the bush.  It was cold, the rain was drizzling and the mist still hung thick in the air.  Despite this there were people playing golf.  I shook my head at their stupidity and hurried past eager to plunge back into sodden, mist filled, fungus infested bush.  As I reentered the trail a sign warned me that snakes abounded in the area I was about to soil with my clumsy feet.  I wasn't worried, in keeping with my usual experiences if an area was proclaimed to be full of a certain type of animal it was absolutely certain that I wouldn't see it.  Given the amount of rain we had had the snakes were no doubt getting plumbers to drain their holes and trying to get their clothes dry. Certainly snakes were just one of a wide variety of animals I didn't see.

What I did see was more fungus and more mist wreathed trees.  The tourist authorities should promote these things.  Since people are going to see them anyway the authorities might as well pretend its deliberate.

fungus

mist wreathed trees, now you're up to date

As I headed into the next leg of my walk it was obvious that we were getting to a more heavily trafficked part of the bush.  Other trails intersected with mine and helpful signs directed the walker to spots of interest that they wouldn't be able to see because of the mist.  Of course now that there was more than one trail to follow I amused myself by following the wrong one until the trail app on my phone finally demanded to know what I was doing and guided me back onto what, after a certain amount of experimentation, turned out to be the right path.

The path now took me past handsome lookouts where one could gaze across the valley in awe and marvel at the beauties of nature.  I was so struck by the sight that I took a photograph.

Supposedly this lookout gives you a great view of the valley

Finally the bush evicted me onto the back streets of Wentworth Falls and I trudged wearily along the streets until I got to the station where I officially finished my walk and took the train back to my starting point.  The weather had cleared somewhat and for the first time today I saw a bird.  I took a photo of it as I sat on the station.

It looks like it belongs on a soup can

Full of a sense of achievement I made my way back to our rented accommodation to wait for my friends.  They, freed from my encumbering presence, managed to run twenty two kilometres in about the same time as it took me to walk twelve.  This didn't cheapen my sense of achievement at all but only because my standards are so low.