Travelling Pathetically - Olympic Park Again

After several weeks of inactivity which can only partially be ascribed to sheer laziness I decided to get out of the flat before my leg muscles atrophied completely. I decided on what I thought was a gentle walk around some of the parklands around the Sydney Olympic Park area. I had been there before tramping through or, more accurately, over mangroves and a bird sanctuary. Now I would fill in some of the gaps wandering through what was almost certainly inaccurately described as a forest and some wetlands.

I waited until the weather was uncomfortably hot and set out for the city. My journey would start at the Olympic Park ferry wharf which meant getting a ferry which in turn meant making my way to Barangaroo so that I could hop on a boat which would deposit me at said wharf. I intended to walk from the wharf along what the map assured me was a walking path along the Parramatta River. Once Silverwater Road blocked my path I would turn left ploughing through various suburbs until I encountered the second part of the walk, up along Haslam's Creek towards my starting point. Actually walking through Silverwater and Newington was also part of the walk but not a very pleasant or picturesque part of it so let us never mention it again.

I stepped off the ferry light of heart and sweaty of body (it was very hot) and immediately encountered my first problem. The path that the map assured me existed was a construction site. I trudged down the road peering at my phone looking for some pathway that might skirt this monument to industry and get me roughly to where I had hoped to be. Eventually I found it and plunged into the bush.

Well not really, the bush was on either side of the road, much of it fenced off as if there was a danger of it leaping out and attacking people. The road itself was a narrow little thing announcing itself as a path for walkers and bicyclists. I sometimes think that planners just assume that everything that isn't a car can cheerfully and safely occupy the same space. Fortunately bicyclists were few and far between although I did have to flatten myself against the fence as a car, in defiance of the signage, made its way through. Eventually I came to a sign proudly announcing the presence of all sorts of birds in the area along with helpful photos just in case one mugs you and you have to describe it to the police. Pride of place was given to a rather handsome little thing with red markings called the red browed finch. I walked on a dozen paces and suddenly there they were, chirping and fluttering. I stared in disbelief, never had a sign made good on its promise so quickly. I actually went back to the sign to confirm what I was looking at. Definitely red browed finches. I spent the next ten minutes trying and completely failing to take photos of the flighty little bastards and eventually slunk on shoulders sagging with defeat.

Somewhere in there is a red browed finch. Don't bother looking, I couldn't find it either

 

This narrow road did eventually deliver me to the river walk and I strolled along with the Parramatta River on one side and carefully fenced off nature on the other. This fencing gave me a foretaste of what was to come. Most of the bushland was fenced off as the authorities were trying to encourage it to get a little more enthusiastic about its job. In the meantime human footprints were deemed an inconvenience. Still the walk was pleasant, the path was another of those pedestrian/cycle paths which seem designed in the hopes that these two inconvenient groups of people will kill each other if forced into close proximity. Dotted along the sides were seats and benches carefully located as far from any shade as possible presumably in the hopes that any survivors of the preceding carnage would die of sunstroke when they stopped for a rest.

 

Walking along the river. On the left you can just see the fence protecting the bushland from rampaging pedestrians

Have I mentioned how hot it was? It was very hot. The fact that I was walking on asphalt didn't help matters. Still the river glistened, wading birds (mainly ibis) waded and on my left the fence finally turned left leaving the remaining trees exposed to the wilful hands of passing humanity. Fortunately there wasn't much passing humanity although in a very technical sense I qualify.

The path culminated is a series of parks including another fenced off hill. The fencing this time was for the excellent reason that this was where they had dumped the toxic soil from the sites previous incarnation as an oil cracking plant. An attached sign told anyone who cared that bacteria were in the process of breaking down the filthy soil in a completely harmless and ecologically friendly way but until they were finished it was probably wiser not to touch.

Having come to the end of my stroll along the river I headed inland through the charming suburbs of Silverwater and Newington. Not for the first time I was amazed at the difference in temperature provided by a few trees and some grass. Through the concrete and tarmac suburbs the heat was insanely oppressive and by the time I stumbled into the second part of my advertised walk I was an exhausted, panting mess. Now however there was a creek, there was a path through something roughly approximating bushland (never mind the homes a few metres away, pretend they're not there) and I could actually reach out and touch the trees.

Haslam's Creek is one of those waterways that we decided to straighten and line with brick, possibly because we thought it looked neater on a map. Several decades later having learnt that curvy unbricked creeks are more helpful to the local environment we unstraightened and debricked at least parts of it. Now it curves and oozes and the remaining bricks give something for waterbirds to sit on. And waterbirds there were. In fact one small park along the creek had been so overrun with ibis that I don't recommend leaving small children there unattended. I took a quick photo and hurried on, avoiding eye contact. 

I've never really felt threatened by ibis before but I didn't linger here

I was getting into the swing of this walking thing now that I had trees around me and a creek in proximity. Somewhat less aggressive birds disported themselves on the creek's rather murky waters and I paused to make a atttempt at taking a photo of a dragonfly. Failing in that I took a photo of the creek instead which had the advantage that it was sufficiently large that I couldn't miss it.

How terribly quaint and idyllic

The journey through the suburbs had taken its toll and I was struggling somewhat despite the rather scanty number of kilometres under my belt. I sank down to rest on a bench that had inexplicably been placed in a shady spot with a good view of the creek. I kicked back for fifteen minutes or so while fish hurled themselves out of the water for my amusement. At least the fish hurled themselves out of the water and I was amused. I take no shame in implying causation between those two events.

Eventually I dragged myself onwards, took a wrong turn, crossed a road and found myself looking across the water at Qudos Arena. Deciding this was a sign I caught an uber home. 

Silly After Action Report - Fighting Back

 Colonel Tadeusz Wlydyrczk looked around him with satisfaction. Everywhere grim faced soldiers were preparing for the attack. The Germans weren't going to know what hit them although if forced to guess most of them would probably say "A bunch of pissed off Poles." Even the green troops made up of cadets, reservists and the scrapings of the Salvation Army's stockade seemed in good shape. Small metallic beetles lurched around their antics giving a valuable moment of light heartedness to troops readying themselves for combat. The colonel's eye fell on a group of heavily laden soldiers guided by his most expendable officer. "Get the mortars and radio into the woods," he ordered, "we'll need them later." The officer, already suspecting his fate, looked up at the colonel with despair. "Is this really necessary?" "Absolutely," lied the colonel, "couldn't do it without you." With a heavy sigh the officer trudged off resigned to ending his days as a mere 7-0.

This is ASL Scenario 86 - Fighting Back. Here I command a teeming mass of Poles determined to prove that blitzkrieg isn't all it cracked up to be as they launch a counterattack against Dave's over extended Germans. My forces enter at the top of the board and have to capture four buildings inconveniently located at the bottom. In between are fields, forests and of course, the Germans. It has to be said the Poles haven't left anything in the bank for this one. I have no fewer than twenty squads; four elite, eight first line and eight green. These are urged into action by four officers including a 9-1. Between them they lug a pair of medium machine guns, a pair of 46mm mortars and a radio connecting them a battery of 80mm artillery. Rattling tinnily on in support are six of the tiniest, most useless AFVs you will ever encounter. Five TKS tankettes (basically a metal plated shoebox with a machine gun) and a TKS(L) (same shoebox with the machine gun replaced by a 20mm ATR). Lest you think this burgeoning force insufficient on turn 4 six more first line squads appear on a flank with another MMG guided by an 8-1 leader and accompanied by two more TKS(L)s and a pair of machine gun armed trucks (possibly the Poles had Somali military advisors). The tanks also had an 8-1 armour leader for some reason.

That it has to be said is quite the force. What on earth could stand against it? Cue doom filled melodramatic music. Dave's Germans nestled in stolen Polish buildings awaiting the onslaught. Making a stand for tyranny and injustice are twelve first line German squads and three officers including their own 9-1. They have a heavy machine gun, four light machine guns, a pair of 50mm mortars (four whole millimetres bigger than my own) and two antitank rifles. A pair of 37mm guns provide anti armour support relishing this rare moment of relevance and ten concealment counters help to misdirect my attention.

 

The above is our at start set up. I have planned to bring the bulk of my force in on the centre left where it can take advantage of a forest covered approach. Green troops will then take the lead plunging forwards catching bullets meant for better men while the rest of my force sorts itself out and dials in the artillery. On the other side a lesser force will drive down looking to push Dave's forward troops out of their advanced positions and hook up with my reinforcements to threaten his flank. Some of this plan worked. A lot of it (specifically the artillery and mortar components) didn't.

The first couple of turns were easy. Dave couldn't really see anything and my troops panted forwards eager to come to grips with the enemy. My guys moved forwards, green troops in the van while the mortar toting squads guided by a 7-0 leader carrying the radio pushed into some woods where they could see at least the beginnings of Dave's defences. Anyone who has read any of my AARs knows what's coming next. Dave revealed a 50mm mortar and went on a rate tear which only ended when my 7-0 was wounded and broken and my two squads reduced to a broken halfsquad. There would be no artillery or mortars on the Polish side this day.

So much for the mortars and artillery

I had moved a couple of tanks forward to support the attack I had intended to make with artillery and mortar support. They suddenly found themselves unsupported and one of them chose this moment to break its main (and only) armament. Things were going well. I must admit I was somewhat at a loss as to what to do with my tanks, it is virtually impossible for them to harm the infantry sitting inside stone buildings. Eventually I worked out that they were there for VBM but since I had no infantry within useful distance the tanks just sat there looking impotent. On the plus side on the far right my green troops pushed forward ignoring the disaster that had overcome my artillery support. 

This is how it went for the next couple of turns. Flanks pushing forward while in the centre I tried to scrape together a force that would penetrate his defences. In truth I hadn't really reached his defences yet. I had bumped into his outpost line, a single squad, lmg and mortar team which had proved sufficient to stop my main thrust in its tracks. As I bumbled around trying to patch together an attack from troops who now seemed to be hopelessly out of position or broken (those were the ones that were in position) both sets of flankers pushed forward. I'd like to say I levered Dave out of his defences but actually he was trading space for time with my boys following in his wake.

Flankers are pushing forward. The centre is asking for directions. Ignore the spotting round, my 7-0 is weeping in a pool of his own blood

Dave for his part was happy to concede me a little territory in return for keeping his line and his concealment intact. The exception was on the left where I had overwhelmed the combination of dummy stacks and throwaway troops he had left to contest the forward buildings. I had hopes of a serious flank attack when my reinforcements came on. 

My reinforcements came on and despairing of my centre I decided this is where victory lay. I pushed forward vigorously helped by the complete absence of opposition. Helpful civilians ratted out the position of an antitank gun in one of the victory buildings. Meanwhile in the centre a tank had succumbed to machine gun fire. Dave finally dropped the mask on the far right and defensive fire wounded an officer and pinned most of my green troops in place. To do so he revealed another squad and a half. So far Dave had committed the equivalent of three squads to the fight and it had been more than enough.

OK the centre right looks like a lost cause but look at my reinforcements go

I was torn between giddy excitement on the left and weeping frustration in the centre and right. One hopeful sign was that a number of green squads that had been perfectly entitled to break had merely pinned. Perhaps I could scrape them back together and proceed. As to my main force? Well those guys were still dicking about trying to deal with his outpost troops.

We were now five turns deep in a ten turn game and I didn't seem to have got very far but wait gentle reader for I was finally ready. On the far right my green troops sorted themselves out and pushed gently forward. In the centre I finally managed to make inroads into dealing with his outpost position by the simple process of committing more troops than he had bullets. And on the left, oh gentle reader on the left my reinforcements surged forward troops and gun trucks roaring around like a period version of Mad Max. Little tanks VBM'ed his defenders and I pushed into my first victory building while other troops scuttled around to the rear.

Took long enough

Finally things were coming together. I was pressing Dave's defences from three sides. My it would have been nice to have some smoke to shroud my approach but I have long since learnt that artillery is something that happens to other people. It only remained to be seen if I had left myself enough time to sweep Dave out of his positions (if you're getting bored with this the answer is "no"). 

I had the bit between my teeth now. My reinforcements surged forward capturing one victory building and challenging for two others. My main force tried to make up for their earlier reticence by flooding a now safe street with troops as various toy town tanks VBM sleazed and hoped to survive the subsequent close combats. On the right my green troops did as much as might be expected of them and at least kept Dave's attention. Dave dragged his 37mm out into the street and started sending armour piercing rounds towards one of my gun trucks. I did make one idiotic mistake. I sent a gun truck looping around the bottom hoping to press his final building but I had forgotten the damn thing couldn't make it over the wall. Before I withdrew it it did manage to kill his gun crew. It didn't matter too much as Dave simply revealed his second mortar team and started dropping rounds on my other gun truck. Fortunately without success.

If you don't look at the turn counter I seem to be doing well

 

Unfortunately Dave's second antitank gun was nestled in the building directly behind the gun I had just bereaved of a crew. It smashed up another of my little tanks but at least the mask had been dropped. Far to the rear my wounded 7-0 leader self rallied and clutched at the radio he could no longer carry. Dave and I giggled politely at the thought of him making any contribution to the action. Then Dave's sniper went off and my wounded 7-0 nobly stepped forward taking the bullet meant for more useful men. It was his first contribution to the game and his last. Meanwhile down where the real action was taking place...

His atg had managed to take out one of my gun trucks but despite this loss my reinforcements pressed forward through two more victory buildings driving Dave's hapless troops before them (that's my story and I'm sticking to it). Sadly my gallant green troops on the right had pretty much reached the end of their elastic. Firepower from a single squad sent them fleeing (although not very far). This wouldn't have been a problem except my main force had once again got itself caught up and delayed by vastly inferior forces. A close combat with a single squad raging for several turns. Despite this I had too many troops to be completely delayed and I oozed forward. Dave's defence now consisted on the sole remaining victory building which he had packed with troops (or at least concealment counters) sending them up to upper levels and challenging me to dig him out as the clocked ticked down.

I couldn't do it. I took three buildings, I got a foothold in the fourth. Dave had his back against the wall with nowhere to go. One more turn would have won it for me but there wasn't another turn.  

The end

So defeat at the last. In retrospect I was too cautious early. I allowed minor troops to hold up the bulk of my attack while I got all of my ducks in a row. I should have attacked early and disregarded casualties (forget the artillery, that shit never works for me). At the end what I need wasn't troops but time. As it was this was a thoroughly enjoyable game. The Poles have the tools to do the job I think, they just need a slightly more competent commander. Dave played an excellent defence pulling back just before being overwhelmed and delaying me again.

Colonel Wlydyrczk looked around at his dispirited troops. They had done well but not quite well enough. He was about to give a few words of support and encouragement when he saw the survivors of a mortar team hunched over a board. "Are you plotting firetables?" he asked. "No," replied one of the soldiers, "we're playing scrabble. Do you know how much your name is worth?"