I am, rather slowly, eating a packet of mentos. On the side of the pack it states that mentos are "chewy dragees". A quick check of the internet informs me that dragees are either sugar coated medications or those little silver balls you get on the top of cupcakes. Well mentos are definitely not silver balls but unless they're a cure for not suffering diabetes I don't really get the medication part of the first definition.
It is entirely possible that something has been lost in translation. Lost or deliberately omitted. One of the most efficient ways to lie is to tell nothing but the truth. We have it on the authority of Wittgenstein himself that it is impossible for two people to communicate with each other, even in the same language, with no possibility of misunderstanding. Wittgenstein's position on this would have slightly more credibility if he hadn't previously written a book stating that you could. That's the great thing about philosophy. In any other discipline being completely wrong would make you look like an idiot, in philosophy it merely opens up fruitful avenues of enquiry.
I should mention that my knowledge of Wittgenstein is derived solely from what a friend of mine has told me about him on those rare occasions when I was bothering to listen. If anything I said is wrong you can put it down to a failure of communication. When we start trying to translate into other languages things get even worse. It amazes me that the human race manages to communicate at all. Things aren't helped in Australia where the teaching establishment seems determined to drag all students down to the educational level of their teachers.
Despite all of the obstacles sufficient information seems to get past our self created filters to, if not actually inform, then at least give a context for our ignorance. Of course there are certain areas when the withholding of information is the object of communication as with most government announcements. I went to a communications course at work recently where the whole topic was how to efficiently make oneself understood. Since I work for a solicitors firm such a course is desperately needed.
About halfway through the course I realised that what we were actually being taught was how to write a childrens book. That is, a book along the lines of "See Spot Run" rather than Harry Potter. I work for a large law firm that services huge corporate clients and the best method of communication is still "See Spot Run". Despite this the communications course is pretty much a work in progress. I plan to take my newly acquired knowledge and write a childrens book. If Chopper Reid can do it surely I can.
While I'm labouring over "See Spot Run; the Adventure Continues" I will sit and eat my chewy dragees while the "medicine" in them makes my teeth fall out. Incidentally, those silver balls on the top of cupcakes, the US FDA has deemed them unfit for human consumption. In another breakdown of communication I continue to do so without any ill effects so far.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Birthday Greetings #5
Happy birthday to Constantine III who was Byzantine emperor for about half an hour in 641AD. Actually Constantine reigned gloriously for all of four months before dying of tuberculosis. Really the only interesting thing about him is that he married his cousin. While this wouldn't raise an eyebrow in Habsburg circles the Eastern Christian church had a slightly less forgiving (not to say more sensible) attitude towards such things. Fortunately for Constantine his father went one further by marrying his own niece. After that criticism of Constantine's marriage rather faded into the background.
Although associated with his father's reign as co-emperor virtually from birth it wasn't until the old man died (crazy and twisted with illness to the delight of the church) that he stepped into the role of senior emperor. Then he died. His half brother, Heraklonas, took over for a brief period but suspicion that Constantine had been poisoned led to a furious reaction against him and his mother (the old emperor's niece remember) and they were both deposed and mutilated. My the Byzantine court was a cheery place at times.
Although associated with his father's reign as co-emperor virtually from birth it wasn't until the old man died (crazy and twisted with illness to the delight of the church) that he stepped into the role of senior emperor. Then he died. His half brother, Heraklonas, took over for a brief period but suspicion that Constantine had been poisoned led to a furious reaction against him and his mother (the old emperor's niece remember) and they were both deposed and mutilated. My the Byzantine court was a cheery place at times.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Cry "Havoc!" and Let Slip the Puppies of Mild Disagreement
Can you believe that Luxembourg has an army? It's true, apparently if the hordes of Genghiz Khan appear on the border 300 or 400 hundred stalwart defenders of Luxembourgish liberty will spring to arms and drive off the invader. Apparently even the Luxembourgers realise this is a little unrealistic which is why they are members of NATO. Furthermore when they deploy they are usually integrated with Belgian troops. Can you imagine being so hard up militarily that you look for assistance from Belgium?
There are certain countries that appear to have no compelling reason for possessing an army. Luxembourg is one of them, another is Italy. Honestly do you really need to have an army when defeat in war is pretty much preordained? Denmark's need for its ten thousand odd troops seems a little specious although you have to love a special forces unit called Slædepatruljen Sirius (they're unarmed sled dog units that patrol Greenland; they must be desperate for global warming). Don't get me started on Haiti. I think that the Haitian police and army should be merged. I realise that's a lot of corruption and brutality to be handled by one organisation but with modern management techniques I think it could be done. Let's face it, the only country Haiti's army has ever invaded has been their own.
The smallest army in the world is, of course, the Swiss Guard, whose revoltingly coloured uniform is surely a tactic to induce nausea in any opposition. There are 110 of these metal jacketed fashion disasters protecting the pope. If there are any more abuse revelations they may have to call in reinforcements. The second smallest army in the world at 245 soldiers makes Antigua and Barbuda a veritable superpower by comparison. Mauritius doesn't have an army but it does have a unit in its police called the "Special Mobile Force". Their motto is "We'll Do It. What Is It?" What "it" is is usually clearing palm trees off the roads after hurricane season.
Possibly the strangest army is that of The Sovereign Military Hospitaller Order of Saint John of Jerusalem, of Rhodes, and of Malta (yes, they're still around). The "army" consists of military medical personnel and are integrated with the Italian army (thus guaranteeing that they will see no fighting).
Since there are all these small and essentially pointless armies knocking about the place I suggest a competition. We could have small wars (in some cases very small) between these nations on neutral ground with a prize for the overall winner. The bottom placed army fights Italy for the wooden spoon. We could hold the wars in Los Angeles, for example, if we can persuade the local drug gangs to take the weekend off to allow for some less harmful activity. I'm sure many of these armies would leap at the chance of practical experience, medals and rapid promotion. After all there can't be very much for them to do most of the time. Although speaking of rapid promotion one strapping young corporal of the Luxembourg army got a very rapid promotion when she married one of the Grand Duke's sons.
There are certain countries that appear to have no compelling reason for possessing an army. Luxembourg is one of them, another is Italy. Honestly do you really need to have an army when defeat in war is pretty much preordained? Denmark's need for its ten thousand odd troops seems a little specious although you have to love a special forces unit called Slædepatruljen Sirius (they're unarmed sled dog units that patrol Greenland; they must be desperate for global warming). Don't get me started on Haiti. I think that the Haitian police and army should be merged. I realise that's a lot of corruption and brutality to be handled by one organisation but with modern management techniques I think it could be done. Let's face it, the only country Haiti's army has ever invaded has been their own.
The smallest army in the world is, of course, the Swiss Guard, whose revoltingly coloured uniform is surely a tactic to induce nausea in any opposition. There are 110 of these metal jacketed fashion disasters protecting the pope. If there are any more abuse revelations they may have to call in reinforcements. The second smallest army in the world at 245 soldiers makes Antigua and Barbuda a veritable superpower by comparison. Mauritius doesn't have an army but it does have a unit in its police called the "Special Mobile Force". Their motto is "We'll Do It. What Is It?" What "it" is is usually clearing palm trees off the roads after hurricane season.
Possibly the strangest army is that of The Sovereign Military Hospitaller Order of Saint John of Jerusalem, of Rhodes, and of Malta (yes, they're still around). The "army" consists of military medical personnel and are integrated with the Italian army (thus guaranteeing that they will see no fighting).
Since there are all these small and essentially pointless armies knocking about the place I suggest a competition. We could have small wars (in some cases very small) between these nations on neutral ground with a prize for the overall winner. The bottom placed army fights Italy for the wooden spoon. We could hold the wars in Los Angeles, for example, if we can persuade the local drug gangs to take the weekend off to allow for some less harmful activity. I'm sure many of these armies would leap at the chance of practical experience, medals and rapid promotion. After all there can't be very much for them to do most of the time. Although speaking of rapid promotion one strapping young corporal of the Luxembourg army got a very rapid promotion when she married one of the Grand Duke's sons.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Precious Ramotswe and the Glasgow Bloodfest
I've been watching the new TV channel provided by my rather wretched cable TV service. I'm used to new channels popping up from time to time. Normally they tend to be of the "lifestyle" variety with programmes like Trinny and Susannah Perform Open Heart Surgery. I generally avoid them like the plague. I can't help thinking lifestyle programmes are largely for people who don't have one. Until they come up with a programme that tells you how to pin down a paranoid cat with one hand and apply flea medication with the other while avoiding claws aimed at the eyes I don't think they have anything for me.
This new channel is good though. Its been going for some months now and is called 13th Street. Essentially its a murder mystery channel which means that I get to see all the mystery shows from a few years back that I missed on free to air TV. At the moment I'm revelling in an overdose of Poirot and Taggart. In my family the latter show has been referred to as "the Glasgow Bloodfest" for as long as I can recall. I mean I know Glasgow has a pretty gritty reputation but honestly if the murder rate in Taggart was maintained for any length of time Glasgow would be depopulated by now. Surely even the inhabitants of Glasgow would flee to Edinburgh rather than take their chances on the gore drenched streets. Or possibly they wouldn't, I've been to Edinburgh.
Currently we are seeing what are euphemistically referred to as "the middle years". The middle years being the period between the death of Mark McManus (who actually played Taggart) and the departure of James MacPherson (no relation, I think) who played Jardine. It would appear that not even the actors are immune to the relentless body count. I liked Mark McManus and I particularly liked a couple of the things he did with the show. If you look at the old episodes that he appears in you will notice that absolutely nobody smokes. They kill each other all over the place but they don't smoke. This is because McManus once appeared in a movie (where he played a smoker) and was appalled to be accosted by a couple of teenagers later who enthused over his performance and told him how cool he looked smoking. He decided that if he ever got any creative control over a programme no one would be allowed to smoke onscreen. When offered Taggart the other thing he insisted on was that everybody spoke with a genuine Glaswegian accent. While this means that the early episodes require subtitles it did add a certain verisimilitude.
Precious Ramotswe has been appearing in The Number 1 Ladies Detective Agency on another channel. It would appear that in the interests of balance the number of murders committed in Glasgow is counterbalanced by the lack of them in Botswana. To be fair if the murder rate of Taggart was maintained in Botswana the country would be depopulated in a week. Still its a nice change of pace. Sadly the Agatha Christie mysteries (Poirot and Marple) appear while I'm at work so I have to hope for sudden attacks of illness if I want to see them.
The best thing about cable tv is that no programme however crappy is allowed to die. Somewhere in the tattered fringes of society there will be sufficient interest to allow the programme to appear on some channel most people have never heard of. I've been watching Get Smart and occasionally even Hogan's Heroes. I loathe Hogan's Heroes but as I watch it I can't help wondering why nobody picked Bob Crane as a sado masochistic homosexual earlier. What everybody else's excuse for appearing in the programme is I don't know. Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel and Xena appear on the sci fi channel which means that somebody in the programming department really doesn't understand the definition of science fiction.
I meant to say something intelligent about cable television and its effects but I have to admit I love it. I've seen more aircrashes than I ever though possible and there is so much footage of world war 2 that if you played it from beginning to end it would take longer than the actual war. All in all relentless reality programmes, Gordon Ramsay and Trinny and Susannah are a small price to pay for so much enjoyment. Cable tv proves that if you just get as many people making television programmes as you possibly can some of them are going to be interesting simply by the law of averages. Of course then you have to find them. Which is why I tend to stick to reruns of Taggart.
This new channel is good though. Its been going for some months now and is called 13th Street. Essentially its a murder mystery channel which means that I get to see all the mystery shows from a few years back that I missed on free to air TV. At the moment I'm revelling in an overdose of Poirot and Taggart. In my family the latter show has been referred to as "the Glasgow Bloodfest" for as long as I can recall. I mean I know Glasgow has a pretty gritty reputation but honestly if the murder rate in Taggart was maintained for any length of time Glasgow would be depopulated by now. Surely even the inhabitants of Glasgow would flee to Edinburgh rather than take their chances on the gore drenched streets. Or possibly they wouldn't, I've been to Edinburgh.
Currently we are seeing what are euphemistically referred to as "the middle years". The middle years being the period between the death of Mark McManus (who actually played Taggart) and the departure of James MacPherson (no relation, I think) who played Jardine. It would appear that not even the actors are immune to the relentless body count. I liked Mark McManus and I particularly liked a couple of the things he did with the show. If you look at the old episodes that he appears in you will notice that absolutely nobody smokes. They kill each other all over the place but they don't smoke. This is because McManus once appeared in a movie (where he played a smoker) and was appalled to be accosted by a couple of teenagers later who enthused over his performance and told him how cool he looked smoking. He decided that if he ever got any creative control over a programme no one would be allowed to smoke onscreen. When offered Taggart the other thing he insisted on was that everybody spoke with a genuine Glaswegian accent. While this means that the early episodes require subtitles it did add a certain verisimilitude.
Precious Ramotswe has been appearing in The Number 1 Ladies Detective Agency on another channel. It would appear that in the interests of balance the number of murders committed in Glasgow is counterbalanced by the lack of them in Botswana. To be fair if the murder rate of Taggart was maintained in Botswana the country would be depopulated in a week. Still its a nice change of pace. Sadly the Agatha Christie mysteries (Poirot and Marple) appear while I'm at work so I have to hope for sudden attacks of illness if I want to see them.
The best thing about cable tv is that no programme however crappy is allowed to die. Somewhere in the tattered fringes of society there will be sufficient interest to allow the programme to appear on some channel most people have never heard of. I've been watching Get Smart and occasionally even Hogan's Heroes. I loathe Hogan's Heroes but as I watch it I can't help wondering why nobody picked Bob Crane as a sado masochistic homosexual earlier. What everybody else's excuse for appearing in the programme is I don't know. Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel and Xena appear on the sci fi channel which means that somebody in the programming department really doesn't understand the definition of science fiction.
I meant to say something intelligent about cable television and its effects but I have to admit I love it. I've seen more aircrashes than I ever though possible and there is so much footage of world war 2 that if you played it from beginning to end it would take longer than the actual war. All in all relentless reality programmes, Gordon Ramsay and Trinny and Susannah are a small price to pay for so much enjoyment. Cable tv proves that if you just get as many people making television programmes as you possibly can some of them are going to be interesting simply by the law of averages. Of course then you have to find them. Which is why I tend to stick to reruns of Taggart.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
ANZACon
On the ANZAC Day long weekend up to a dozen strange figures slithered out of their holes and gathered at Ashburton Public Library for ANZACon 2010. A good time was had by all and I didn't weep too much at my defeats. Herewith the record of my miserable attempts at ASL relevance.
Ultimate Treachery
The first scenario was Ultimate Treachery pitting Japanese against French colonial troops who had so far ridden out the war without doing much in the way of fighting. The scene was Hanoi, 1945. The Japanese had first and second line squads, machine guns, mortars and an awesome 10-1 leader to direct their assault. The French came equipped to fight 1939s war in 1945. They had a mixture of first line and green squads plus some machine guns including a heavy. But wait, is that...? Could it be? Yes a mighty FT-17 clatters forward. The French are saved!
I couldn't resist the opportunity to command possibly the most hopeless tank of World War 2 so I took the French leaving Murray with the Japanese. The Japanese had to capture 45 out of 74 building locations and only had five turns to do it in. I planned my defence with care. Actually I planned my defence with my usual incoherence and wishful thinking. I divided my defence in two. South of the road BB9-BB1 I arranged my speed bumps, all the green squads, a lmg and the French 7-0. Their purpose was simply to die. To force the Japanese to spend too much time grinding through them. North of the road I set up my first line troops with the hmg and 8-1 in DD3. A squad with mmg anchored the defence at CC8 the ferocious FT-17 occupied BB1.
Murray set up kill stacks in V9 and W10 opposite the row house where just two of my squads (plus the lmg) lurked. A diversionary force of Japanese set up to the south to split my defence. Unnecessary since my defence hadn't really been planned with anything specific in mind. The Japanese spat fire and the mortar WP (which I had forgotten the Japanese had) and he launched his first assaults. My green troops held up nobly for one turn then fled but sufficient of them returned to the fray to slow Murray down. Adding to my chances it started to rain and smoke went out of the equation. Turns two and three were a grim battle for the buildings north of the town with my green troops charging into close combat when possible. Green troops and Italians are made for close combat although possibly nothing else. He took casualties but I took more and by turn four he had closed up to the road and my real defence zone. The rain became torrential as Murray prepared his final assault. A little sting went out when my mmg stack killed the 10-1 and even the FT-17 got into the act as it was parked near a stairwell hex Murray desperately needed to gain the second floor of building Y2. Finally though the Japanese swarmed over my defence and strolled through endless FPF shots to snaffle 46 building locations by game end. I was left weeping with nothing to console me but a dead 10-1 and a live FT-17.
Road to Buin
The next scenario was Road to Buin. After all the overlays were added I have no idea what board we were using or even what direction I was attacking in. Nevertheless I decided to take the attacking Australians, largely because I couldn't remember what panji stakes were meant to do. As it turned out that wasn't the only thing I forgot. According to others a charge up the left hand side of the board might have been successful but my opponent, Cameron, had set up his defence with that in mind so I went up the middle.
I sent a small group sneaking up the skinny jungle on the left hand side of the board while the bulk of my force attacked on the right on both sides of the stream. My target was the patch of jungle my side of the stream near one of the victory locations. The first enemy I discovered was the 37mm gun set at the top of the left hand jungle I was sneaking along. I sent a squad to deal with it but they staggered back in bloody rout from a thoroughly predictable minefield. Henceforth the left flank would simply be a pinning force. On the right I made good progress and was challenging for the clump of jungle that was my target. I ran into his pillbox (fortunately pointing in the wrong direction and another squad defending my approach route. Here I made my first (but sadly not my last) mistake. Eager to clear out his onboard defence before his reinforcements arrived I charged two squads into close combat with one of his. Shortly afterwards I had two dead squads for a mere Japanese half squad in return. My right hand position was now shattered and was reduced to making scary noises while praying desperately for reinforcements.
My carrier trundled on and dropped off an officer who started fiddling with the knobs on his radio. He eventually got the artillery into action but the only result for the entire game was to wound the 37mm gun crew. Another squad discovered the 120mm gun set up to cover the victory hex in a very painful way. Where the hell are my reinforcements? Actually I had forgotten them. Halfway through the Japanese turn 3 I realised I should have brought my armour support on in my previous turn. Cameron was very kind and allowed me to bring it on on turn 4 by which time I had to send them to shore up my disintegrating right flank. Cameron's reinforcements were flowing on filling the small holes I had made in his position and things went from looking bad to looking hopeless. When my infantry reinforcements came on I decided to take desperate measures. Sending the newly arrived troops to cover the right flank I crashed the matildas across the stream and charged for the ford while what was left of my starting OB challenged Cameron's position in the jungle.
In an interesting demonstration of how things can be different "on the other side of the hill" Cameron felt sufficiently threatened by this attack to take a desperate risk of his own. Gathering three squads of reinforcements he stacked them with an officer and charged them straight into the stream. They laughed off my defensive fire, broke a squad in advancing fire and then advanced into the jungle. My infantry attack, such as it was, was over.
Slow but unstoppable my matildas lumbered forward shrugging off 37mm hits (the 120 lost AP on its first attempt). Eventually I had three tanks around the victory location with one turn to go. I allowed myself a faint glimmer of hope. Then it all went to hell. Swarms of tank hunter heroes charged in from all directions and I had no infantry left to stop them. All three tanks went down under a sea of Japanese bodies. Two games, two losses and Saturday was over.
Race for Freedom
Sunday came and with it an opportunity to shoot horses. I was playing Neil Andrews (henceforth to be known as the bad Neil). I had defended once and attacked once on Saturday so I decided it was time to defend again. I took the Germans and started setting up my scanty forces. A quick glance at the board convinced me that bad Neil would make his attempt at either the left or right edge of the board rather than struggle through the forest in the middle. I therefore divided my forces.
To the left went the 8-0 leader with a squad and lmg in DD4, a half squad and mortar in EE7 and another squad just for laughs in DD6. Over on the right where I expected the main attack to come I placed the 9-2 a half squad and the MMG in J5 with squads in H5, F3 and B6. The three armoured cars I placed on the road in the middle of the board to step in wherever needed. At first things seemed to go well. Bad Neil did indeed focus his attack on the right side of the board but unfortunately stopped, dismounted and unloaded his gun one hex short of the one I had bore sighted. He eased a force forward on the left as well to keep me honest and tried to sneak a squad or two down the extreme right board edge. I moved two of the armoured cars over to back up my defence and bad Neil's cursing as his atrs hit but failed to penetrate their armour was music to my ears.
Sadly in the only effective sniper attack of the game he recalled the other armoured car which left my defence on the left skimpy. I really needed to bring some troops over to the main attack but didn't feel I could while he still had some forces on the left pinning them down. By the time I had bitten the bullet it was too late. Despite the failure of his atrs bad Neil ground me down with firepower and eventually took out an armoured car in close combat. With my defence in shreds he easily slid past the required exit VPs now reduced by a mangled armoured car. Sigh! More defeat but at least someone named Neil won.
Loonies and Leicesters
This was my favourite scenario and not just because I actually won this one. As readers of the above might guess I achieved that happy result more by good luck than good judgement. No it was the lunatics wandering around that gave this a little spice. The scene; a mixed batch of Germans defending a collection of buildings with the assistance of a StuH 42 SP gun. One of the buildings was a lunatic asylum and the battle was made more awkward by the inmates wandering around the battlefield. Points would be deducted for loonies killed. Owen took the defending Germans and I was happy to be the attacking British.
Owen set up with most of his force in building E8 with a 447 in K9 as a tripwire. He had the 9-1, squad and mmg in H7 and another squad in D5. The StuH 42 lurked modestly behind E8. I decided to charge most of my force along the southern board edge hoping to brush aside the lone 447 in K9 and set myself up for an assault on the main building with plenty of time to spare. To keep him honest I sent a small force (including my PIAT toting hero) backed by a sherman to enter on B0. This diversionary force struck its first problem when it turned out that the German squad in D5 had the panzerschreck. Cheerfully eating the backblast (as I would have done myself) Owen fired once and half my tank strength was a greasy pyre of smoke. The supporting infantry survived by moving very slowly and cautiously (sherman driver take note). The other tank trundled down the road in support of my main attack and dumped smoke into G8. While a squad and lmg infiltrated through the timberyard and hopped into the gully.
Unfortunately for my big attack the lone 447 proved to have delusions of heroism. Sternly taking 20FP attacks without blinking it held me up for an entire turn and when I eased a squad past it I didn't check LOS efficiently enough and that squad (plus the 8-1 and and lmg) were wiped from existence by his mmg stack. I was advancing along the gully and inching ever closer to the StuH but my main attack was stalled and at that point my remaining sherman ran out of smoke. In desperation I charged it forwards freezing the mmg stack in VBM thus allowing my other units to move. This was the beginning of the end as my main force swept forward and my gully squad hopped out and started mangling the mmg stack. Once it was down the tank lurched forward and did the same thing to a squad in the main building allowing my troops to fight their way in. Victory for Neil and I only killed a squad of loonies in doing it. In parentheses it should be noted that while Owen's dice were fine for most of the game they let him down badly in one respect. Four times he rolled for panzerfausts while I was doing my idiotic VBM manoeuvres and four times he was denied. My tank antics were an act of desperation and I fully expected to be crushed. However fortune favours the loony (except the ones I killed of course).
So there we are; four scenarios and two days of great fun. Much thanks to Joe for organising it and all the guys at AGS for the usual great welcome.
Ultimate Treachery
The first scenario was Ultimate Treachery pitting Japanese against French colonial troops who had so far ridden out the war without doing much in the way of fighting. The scene was Hanoi, 1945. The Japanese had first and second line squads, machine guns, mortars and an awesome 10-1 leader to direct their assault. The French came equipped to fight 1939s war in 1945. They had a mixture of first line and green squads plus some machine guns including a heavy. But wait, is that...? Could it be? Yes a mighty FT-17 clatters forward. The French are saved!
I couldn't resist the opportunity to command possibly the most hopeless tank of World War 2 so I took the French leaving Murray with the Japanese. The Japanese had to capture 45 out of 74 building locations and only had five turns to do it in. I planned my defence with care. Actually I planned my defence with my usual incoherence and wishful thinking. I divided my defence in two. South of the road BB9-BB1 I arranged my speed bumps, all the green squads, a lmg and the French 7-0. Their purpose was simply to die. To force the Japanese to spend too much time grinding through them. North of the road I set up my first line troops with the hmg and 8-1 in DD3. A squad with mmg anchored the defence at CC8 the ferocious FT-17 occupied BB1.
Murray set up kill stacks in V9 and W10 opposite the row house where just two of my squads (plus the lmg) lurked. A diversionary force of Japanese set up to the south to split my defence. Unnecessary since my defence hadn't really been planned with anything specific in mind. The Japanese spat fire and the mortar WP (which I had forgotten the Japanese had) and he launched his first assaults. My green troops held up nobly for one turn then fled but sufficient of them returned to the fray to slow Murray down. Adding to my chances it started to rain and smoke went out of the equation. Turns two and three were a grim battle for the buildings north of the town with my green troops charging into close combat when possible. Green troops and Italians are made for close combat although possibly nothing else. He took casualties but I took more and by turn four he had closed up to the road and my real defence zone. The rain became torrential as Murray prepared his final assault. A little sting went out when my mmg stack killed the 10-1 and even the FT-17 got into the act as it was parked near a stairwell hex Murray desperately needed to gain the second floor of building Y2. Finally though the Japanese swarmed over my defence and strolled through endless FPF shots to snaffle 46 building locations by game end. I was left weeping with nothing to console me but a dead 10-1 and a live FT-17.
Road to Buin
The next scenario was Road to Buin. After all the overlays were added I have no idea what board we were using or even what direction I was attacking in. Nevertheless I decided to take the attacking Australians, largely because I couldn't remember what panji stakes were meant to do. As it turned out that wasn't the only thing I forgot. According to others a charge up the left hand side of the board might have been successful but my opponent, Cameron, had set up his defence with that in mind so I went up the middle.
I sent a small group sneaking up the skinny jungle on the left hand side of the board while the bulk of my force attacked on the right on both sides of the stream. My target was the patch of jungle my side of the stream near one of the victory locations. The first enemy I discovered was the 37mm gun set at the top of the left hand jungle I was sneaking along. I sent a squad to deal with it but they staggered back in bloody rout from a thoroughly predictable minefield. Henceforth the left flank would simply be a pinning force. On the right I made good progress and was challenging for the clump of jungle that was my target. I ran into his pillbox (fortunately pointing in the wrong direction and another squad defending my approach route. Here I made my first (but sadly not my last) mistake. Eager to clear out his onboard defence before his reinforcements arrived I charged two squads into close combat with one of his. Shortly afterwards I had two dead squads for a mere Japanese half squad in return. My right hand position was now shattered and was reduced to making scary noises while praying desperately for reinforcements.
My carrier trundled on and dropped off an officer who started fiddling with the knobs on his radio. He eventually got the artillery into action but the only result for the entire game was to wound the 37mm gun crew. Another squad discovered the 120mm gun set up to cover the victory hex in a very painful way. Where the hell are my reinforcements? Actually I had forgotten them. Halfway through the Japanese turn 3 I realised I should have brought my armour support on in my previous turn. Cameron was very kind and allowed me to bring it on on turn 4 by which time I had to send them to shore up my disintegrating right flank. Cameron's reinforcements were flowing on filling the small holes I had made in his position and things went from looking bad to looking hopeless. When my infantry reinforcements came on I decided to take desperate measures. Sending the newly arrived troops to cover the right flank I crashed the matildas across the stream and charged for the ford while what was left of my starting OB challenged Cameron's position in the jungle.
In an interesting demonstration of how things can be different "on the other side of the hill" Cameron felt sufficiently threatened by this attack to take a desperate risk of his own. Gathering three squads of reinforcements he stacked them with an officer and charged them straight into the stream. They laughed off my defensive fire, broke a squad in advancing fire and then advanced into the jungle. My infantry attack, such as it was, was over.
Slow but unstoppable my matildas lumbered forward shrugging off 37mm hits (the 120 lost AP on its first attempt). Eventually I had three tanks around the victory location with one turn to go. I allowed myself a faint glimmer of hope. Then it all went to hell. Swarms of tank hunter heroes charged in from all directions and I had no infantry left to stop them. All three tanks went down under a sea of Japanese bodies. Two games, two losses and Saturday was over.
Race for Freedom
Sunday came and with it an opportunity to shoot horses. I was playing Neil Andrews (henceforth to be known as the bad Neil). I had defended once and attacked once on Saturday so I decided it was time to defend again. I took the Germans and started setting up my scanty forces. A quick glance at the board convinced me that bad Neil would make his attempt at either the left or right edge of the board rather than struggle through the forest in the middle. I therefore divided my forces.
To the left went the 8-0 leader with a squad and lmg in DD4, a half squad and mortar in EE7 and another squad just for laughs in DD6. Over on the right where I expected the main attack to come I placed the 9-2 a half squad and the MMG in J5 with squads in H5, F3 and B6. The three armoured cars I placed on the road in the middle of the board to step in wherever needed. At first things seemed to go well. Bad Neil did indeed focus his attack on the right side of the board but unfortunately stopped, dismounted and unloaded his gun one hex short of the one I had bore sighted. He eased a force forward on the left as well to keep me honest and tried to sneak a squad or two down the extreme right board edge. I moved two of the armoured cars over to back up my defence and bad Neil's cursing as his atrs hit but failed to penetrate their armour was music to my ears.
Sadly in the only effective sniper attack of the game he recalled the other armoured car which left my defence on the left skimpy. I really needed to bring some troops over to the main attack but didn't feel I could while he still had some forces on the left pinning them down. By the time I had bitten the bullet it was too late. Despite the failure of his atrs bad Neil ground me down with firepower and eventually took out an armoured car in close combat. With my defence in shreds he easily slid past the required exit VPs now reduced by a mangled armoured car. Sigh! More defeat but at least someone named Neil won.
Loonies and Leicesters
This was my favourite scenario and not just because I actually won this one. As readers of the above might guess I achieved that happy result more by good luck than good judgement. No it was the lunatics wandering around that gave this a little spice. The scene; a mixed batch of Germans defending a collection of buildings with the assistance of a StuH 42 SP gun. One of the buildings was a lunatic asylum and the battle was made more awkward by the inmates wandering around the battlefield. Points would be deducted for loonies killed. Owen took the defending Germans and I was happy to be the attacking British.
Owen set up with most of his force in building E8 with a 447 in K9 as a tripwire. He had the 9-1, squad and mmg in H7 and another squad in D5. The StuH 42 lurked modestly behind E8. I decided to charge most of my force along the southern board edge hoping to brush aside the lone 447 in K9 and set myself up for an assault on the main building with plenty of time to spare. To keep him honest I sent a small force (including my PIAT toting hero) backed by a sherman to enter on B0. This diversionary force struck its first problem when it turned out that the German squad in D5 had the panzerschreck. Cheerfully eating the backblast (as I would have done myself) Owen fired once and half my tank strength was a greasy pyre of smoke. The supporting infantry survived by moving very slowly and cautiously (sherman driver take note). The other tank trundled down the road in support of my main attack and dumped smoke into G8. While a squad and lmg infiltrated through the timberyard and hopped into the gully.
Unfortunately for my big attack the lone 447 proved to have delusions of heroism. Sternly taking 20FP attacks without blinking it held me up for an entire turn and when I eased a squad past it I didn't check LOS efficiently enough and that squad (plus the 8-1 and and lmg) were wiped from existence by his mmg stack. I was advancing along the gully and inching ever closer to the StuH but my main attack was stalled and at that point my remaining sherman ran out of smoke. In desperation I charged it forwards freezing the mmg stack in VBM thus allowing my other units to move. This was the beginning of the end as my main force swept forward and my gully squad hopped out and started mangling the mmg stack. Once it was down the tank lurched forward and did the same thing to a squad in the main building allowing my troops to fight their way in. Victory for Neil and I only killed a squad of loonies in doing it. In parentheses it should be noted that while Owen's dice were fine for most of the game they let him down badly in one respect. Four times he rolled for panzerfausts while I was doing my idiotic VBM manoeuvres and four times he was denied. My tank antics were an act of desperation and I fully expected to be crushed. However fortune favours the loony (except the ones I killed of course).
So there we are; four scenarios and two days of great fun. Much thanks to Joe for organising it and all the guys at AGS for the usual great welcome.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Scary Mechanical Noises
There are certain times one doesn't want to hear scary mechanical noises. For example when a supervillain has you strapped to some fiendish death machine. Of course that's only happened to me once, but the story of my time in the Slovenian Secret Service and my encounter with the diabolical Professor Karlyle van Overpass must wait for another time. Suffice it to say that the world was saved although by a more narrow margin than most realise.
Another time you don't want to hear scary mechanical noises is when you're sitting in an aeroplane owned by a company you chose solely on the grounds of cheapness. Suddenly the mutated killer stick insects of Professor van Overpass didn't look quite so fearsome. For reasons best known to the shadowy puppet masters who broadcast instructions into my head I had decided to fly Tiger Airways to Melbourne. Of course I would have preferred to fly Qantas (and how rare that statement is becoming) but they have banned me since the day I (and my loyal Slovenian sidekick Svej) were forced, in the name of simple humanity, to shoot down a fully loaded Qantas 747 over the Pacific. Apparently the fact that the passengers on board were no longer entirely human cut no ice with Qantas management and I have been banned ever since.
Tiger Airways is essentially where aircraft from Singapore Airlines crawl away to die. They are one of a number of low cost airlines trundling back and forth between Australia's major population centres (both of them). In the interest of fairness I should say the plane did eventually stagger into the air and got me to Melbourne safely. They didn't even lose my luggage.
One of the major issues with air travel, in my opinion, is that it requires you to go to an airport. At least for the takeoff. When you're as experienced in HALO jumping as I am landing is purely optional. Airports must be one of the most wretched pieces of the urban landscape imaginable. This is why it is a good idea to have them out in the country where wretched pieces of landscape are more likely to go unnoticed. For me the airport experience is made worse by familiarity with what goes on behind the scenes. I look around and see a sordid collection of secret policemen, drug smugglers, depraved hookers, diabolical cultists, secret cabals aiming at world domination and aliens from other planets slumming. And that's just the security staff. The passengers are something else again. In certain venues it is expected that people will make an effort to dress up, airports are the diametric opposite of these. People drag out the crappiest most wretched clothes they possess and rather than throw them away put them aside in case they need to go to the airport.
I arrived safely in Melbourne slightly to my surprise and after a three hour taxi ride (I made the driver take a roundabout route in case I was followed) I arrived at my hotel. The Intercontinental in Melbourne has doors that open outwards as you approach which made me feel like I was in an episode of Get Smart. I hummed the theme tune all the way to the lift. Later that night while eating my chargrilled kangaroo I hummed the theme tune from Skippy (true).
I got a fright in the lobby however; there were two women in air stewardess uniforms. Had they followed me from the airport? Was my cover blown? I couldn't be sure so I imitated a pot plant for half an hour until the coast was clear. Fortunately my time with the Iracibili tribe on the Orinoco delta has taught me to flawlessly imitate plant material. Finally though I got to my room, crawled under the bed and settled down for the night.
PS. For those interested I hear my old mate Svej has produced a fifteen part documentary of our time together. It will be screening on Slovenian television beginning in late July. For security reasons it will be titled Diary of a Psychiatric Nurse. Should be good.
Another time you don't want to hear scary mechanical noises is when you're sitting in an aeroplane owned by a company you chose solely on the grounds of cheapness. Suddenly the mutated killer stick insects of Professor van Overpass didn't look quite so fearsome. For reasons best known to the shadowy puppet masters who broadcast instructions into my head I had decided to fly Tiger Airways to Melbourne. Of course I would have preferred to fly Qantas (and how rare that statement is becoming) but they have banned me since the day I (and my loyal Slovenian sidekick Svej) were forced, in the name of simple humanity, to shoot down a fully loaded Qantas 747 over the Pacific. Apparently the fact that the passengers on board were no longer entirely human cut no ice with Qantas management and I have been banned ever since.
Tiger Airways is essentially where aircraft from Singapore Airlines crawl away to die. They are one of a number of low cost airlines trundling back and forth between Australia's major population centres (both of them). In the interest of fairness I should say the plane did eventually stagger into the air and got me to Melbourne safely. They didn't even lose my luggage.
One of the major issues with air travel, in my opinion, is that it requires you to go to an airport. At least for the takeoff. When you're as experienced in HALO jumping as I am landing is purely optional. Airports must be one of the most wretched pieces of the urban landscape imaginable. This is why it is a good idea to have them out in the country where wretched pieces of landscape are more likely to go unnoticed. For me the airport experience is made worse by familiarity with what goes on behind the scenes. I look around and see a sordid collection of secret policemen, drug smugglers, depraved hookers, diabolical cultists, secret cabals aiming at world domination and aliens from other planets slumming. And that's just the security staff. The passengers are something else again. In certain venues it is expected that people will make an effort to dress up, airports are the diametric opposite of these. People drag out the crappiest most wretched clothes they possess and rather than throw them away put them aside in case they need to go to the airport.
I arrived safely in Melbourne slightly to my surprise and after a three hour taxi ride (I made the driver take a roundabout route in case I was followed) I arrived at my hotel. The Intercontinental in Melbourne has doors that open outwards as you approach which made me feel like I was in an episode of Get Smart. I hummed the theme tune all the way to the lift. Later that night while eating my chargrilled kangaroo I hummed the theme tune from Skippy (true).
I got a fright in the lobby however; there were two women in air stewardess uniforms. Had they followed me from the airport? Was my cover blown? I couldn't be sure so I imitated a pot plant for half an hour until the coast was clear. Fortunately my time with the Iracibili tribe on the Orinoco delta has taught me to flawlessly imitate plant material. Finally though I got to my room, crawled under the bed and settled down for the night.
PS. For those interested I hear my old mate Svej has produced a fifteen part documentary of our time together. It will be screening on Slovenian television beginning in late July. For security reasons it will be titled Diary of a Psychiatric Nurse. Should be good.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
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