Silly After Action Report - A Hotly Contested Crossroads

Major Boris Diginaditch stared at the scene in front of him with disfavour. 

"Tell me why this particular crossroads is so damned important?"

Not by a single inflexion did the staff officer allow criticism to enter his voice.

"The regimental commissar feels this is the most important territory between Berlin and Moscow. He has convinced the regimental commander of this inescapable fact."

"This isn't even the most important territory in this neighbourhood," protested Diginaditch.

"I shall inform the regimental commissar of your opinion if you like."

"On the other hand," said Diginaditch reflectively.

"Wise decision."

So this is Scenario OB13 - A Hotly Contested Crossroads where my Soviets will attempt to disrupt the German grand strategy of dragging out the war for a few more weeks. In order to win I have to capture fourteen buildings most of them in the vicinity of the aforementioned crossroads. Dave, commanding the 8th panzer division's reconnaissance battalion will attempt to ensure that this is one speed trap that will remain forever German. All buildings are wood except for AA7 which is stone and has a steeple. So its either a church or home of the fiddler on the roof.

 It has to be admitted that my force is late war Soviet at its finest; fourteen elite squads including three of assault engineers (imagine, Soviet troops with smoke) are ready to storm the lair of the fascist beastie guided by four officers including a 9-2. Support weapons consist of four light machine guns and a pair of demo charges. Armoured support is provided by a trio of T34/85 tanks and three almost as impressive SU-85 assault guns. Snuggled into the buildings around the eponymous crossroads Dave's force is equally impressive. He has seven and a half elite squads of various types with three lmgs and a panzerschreck, plus a pair of crews that can set up hidden anywhere ready to fire panzerfausts at the approaching Soviet tanks. His armour consists of a pair of Hetzer self propelled guns, a PzII OP tank connected to 80mm artillery, a honking big armoured car which has managed to squeeze a 75mm gun onto its chassis at the price of having virtually no ammunition for it and a pair of halftracks including one with an easily removable hmg. Three officers including a 9-1 inspire their troops to "more than mortal deeds for the fatherland."

I was ready to play but before I began there was one more thing to do. Dipping into my knowledge of ancient texts and blasphemous oracles I uttered a dark and grim prayer to the Dice Gods. Once the appropriate sacrifice was made and my immortal soul thoroughly mortgaged I could begin.

Below is a picture that says very little but effectively my intention was to move all of the question marks on the right side of the map as far to the left as possible.

The rather discreet start

A little more specifically my plan involved using the building in the north as cover for the bulk of my infantry which would surge forward hopefully encountering and overrunning his HIP tank hunters along the way. In the south a smaller force (but including my assault engineers) would push forward with armoured support following at a discreet distance and hopefully hit is defences from two directions. For some reason I was obsessed with the prospect of a German hmg in the steeple. Check the OB, the Germans don't have an hmg. There's one in the halftrack but that is hardly likely to be in the steeple on the first turn.

 

End of Soviet first turn

Perhaps unsurprisingly my force made it through the first turn without serious loss although various parts of Dave's OB had started to reveal themselves. Neither of his tank hunter half squads had made their appearance though. I had gobbled up the undefended buildings and would now actually have to fight for any more.

 After a slightly understated first turn things kicked off in the second. Pushing forward my troops suffered some losses, but others pushed forward to the wall in the north. His Hetzers revealed themselves wrecking an SU-85 but in return one of my T34/85s nailed a Hetzer with a critical hit providing me with some useful smoke cover. Dave's OP tank dialled in his artillery but it settled for dropping a spotting round in the next county.

End of turn 2

With his Hetzers revealed (and one fried) I started probing for his flanks if only to get as far away from his artillery as possible. Up in the north I sent an SU-85 around his flank or at least I intended to. Actually it got as far as the wall when it discovered a halfsquad with a panzerschreck. It spent the next couple of turns in motion hiding behind the wall desperately praying for hull hits. Hull hits were duly provided and my SU unaccountably survived. Dave moved his artillery to pound the brush now playing home to two of my T34s. Fortunately they survived, even the one that was foolishly CE (I really was pushing that 8 morale to its limits). My 9-2 took command of a trio of squads with lmgs and sprayed the concealed force in the steeple to find it was only dummies. I'm not sure when I realised Dave didn't have an OB provided hmg but by the time I did he had unshipped the one from the halftrack so it didn't really matter.

Scenting victory (or possibly my neighbour's dinner) I pressed forward. A tank on my left circled around to bring his defenders under fire while my recently rallied troops pushed forward. Up in the north I was winning the battle for the wall and soon hoped to be contesting for the yard. His surviving Hetzer was banging away at my tanks and would sooner or later get a result so I rolled an SU up next to it. My thinking was that either Dave could shift his covered arc (and hopefully miss) or or I would get a side shot on a Hetzer. Unfortunately I pushed the entire CE thing a little far and his hmg (now appropriately ensconced in the steeple) pinned the crew who buried themselves on the floor of the vehicle trembling in fear.

End of turn 3

Despite such idiocy imposed setbacks I was pushing forward. With a real target to shoot at my 9-2 kill stack broke his hmg halfsquad while in the south Dave slunk back out of harms way allowing me to capture a couple more buildings. His artillery had been more of an irritation than a war winning weapon and this was brought to a close when I finally managed to take out his PzII which had been sitting cheerily under a hail of 85mm shells up until that point. I managed to get a squad forward to support my SU-85 in the north and his schreck toting halfsquad decided not to stand upon the order of its going.

End of turn 4

 

Turn four was heavy on armoured casualties with his Hetzer taking out one of my T-34s but in return another critical hit burnt the Hetzer (we rolled three critical hits between us in this turn). The trade was one I was happy to make. I was dismantling his infantry and his armoured support was gone. Over the next turn I slowly gripped his remaining troops in a vice which not even the destruction of another tank could prevent. Dave seeing the writing on the wall offered me the concession. The close combat in the south was Dave's last desperate attempt to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

 

 

 

Lest I appear a military genius (stop laughing) it had to be conceded that with the exception of a couple of critical hits Dave's dice were absolutely dreadful. My sacrifices to various dark gods had not gone unanswered. We both enjoyed this scenario although its fair to say that I enjoyed it considerably more. Dave's dice stats were truly dreadful. I somehow failed to muster up any sympathy. Many thanks to Dave for the game and the dicebot for the win.

 "The crossroads is ours," announced Diginaditch brushing bits of wrecked Hetzer off his uniform. The staff officer gave a sickly smile. 

"It turns out the regimental commissar had the map upside down. The important crossroads is five miles down the road."

"Should we give this one back then?" 

I Need A Falcon

"Get out of here you filthy, disease riddled bastard!" Not, it has to be admitted, the first time I have heard those words but it is the first time I have had to say them. Things are getting a little awkward at Chez Neil with the great outdoors showing an increasing propensity to become part of the great indoors. The latest to blur the boundary between civilisation and the untamed wild is a pair of pigeons who have decided that the top of my bookcase makes as excellent roosting spot and, by corollary, that my floor and furniture are perfect things upon which to shit.

My neighbours are of no assistance in helping me deal with this avian assault. When they hear incoherent shrieks of horror and outrage emanating from my flat they just figure its another Saturday night. As for the collection of plush toys which I once foolishly thought might help me defend my humble abode. They have crawled into corners as far from the incontinent marauders as they can get.

I think what really gets me is their sheer brazenness. I lurch into my loungeroom shrieking and waving my arms wildly. If there are pigeons present they rise in their own time and casually flap outside but they don't leave. They sit on my balcony railing waiting for me to get out of their lounge room. If I pursue my offensive outside they fly precisely two feet up into the air, sit on my gutter and again wait for me to get out of their way. Which, being a busy person and not wanting to break down into frustrated tears in front of a pigeon, I eventually do.

All of this really came to a head yesterday. After a long day selflessly sacrificing my health and sanity for the benefit of my employers I stumbled home tired and traumatised. I lurched in the door, dropped my bag, waved hello to the pigeons and shambled into the kitchen for a drink. What the fuck! I retraced my steps and yes there they were; two pigeons sitting on top of my bookcase looking down with calm politeness as I had a minor meltdown.  I don't know how they got in. I had to open a window and a door so that they could get out. Once I had managed to evict them (and after several hours indoors they were understandably reluctant to leave) I then spent the next half an hour on my hands and knees dealing with the inevitable consequences of having a couple of pigeons indoors for several hours. If I'd waited any longer I could have opened a phophate mine.

The pigeons must go. I need something sharp of eye, cruel of beak and vicious of claw and fortunately I know where to get it. Sixty floors up on the office building I am increasingly inclined to call home (if only because of the relative absence of pigeons) there is a falcon. This alone is sufficient to explain said pigeon absence. It swoops down from its lofty height, talons outstretched and feeds on lesser breeds with cruel gusto. "Lesser breeds" being loosely defined as "those who didn't get out of the way quickly enough". A quick conversation or two along the lines of "plenty of delicious pigeons" should be enough to persuade it to relocate.

I can't wait to see the look on the pigeon's faces when they shoulder their way into my apartment to find them caught in a falcon's predatory gaze. It will be carnage. Of course then I have to pick up bits of mutilated pigeon but I only have to do it once, or at least once per pigeon. My pigeon problems are soon going to be a thing of the past. Only one question remains. Does anybody know how to get rid of a falcon?