I have become addicted to those stupid little free games one can download for the iphone. It shames me to have to admit this, me who once sneered at the very thought of owning an iphone. My life has become a series of pathetic interludes glaring myopically at the tiny screen trying to complete pointless tasks in order to gain meaningless rewards that simply lead on to more pointless tasks. It occurs to me that my leisure time has become a metaphor for my job.
Presently my intellectual firepower is focused on getting a small, indeterminate creature to throw bubbles at other bubbles in the hopes of releasing trapped babies which then fall to the ground. The babies don't even splatter on impact. They just crawl disappointingly away. In my defence I'm not throwing bubbles at other bubbles because I get any enjoyment out of it but rather because playing this game gives me credits in another game I'm playing which I'm rather more fond of. So as you can see I haven't completely lost my bubbles, I mean marbles.
The only good thing I can say about the entire business is that I'm not alone in my degradation. Pretty much all my colleagues at work are doing the same thing. It's amazing we get any work done. Note to my supervisor "we are getting work done". Our last team lunch consisted of four people sitting around a table pawing frantically at their iphones. As a consequence my already scanty social skills are taking a battering as my conversation now consists alternately of swearing, weeping and occasionally praising a small electronic device. When I do speak to another human being it is usually to say something like "Can you send me an earth wisp" a phrase which can have absolutely no other application if I tried for a million years.
I feel embarrassed and more than a little ashamed by my weakness. I try and angle my phone on the train so nobody else can see what I'm doing. Hopefully they think I'm checking my emails or doing something else important and work related (hopefully my supervisor thinks so too) but I don't honestly think I'm fooling anyone. The saddest part is when I actually achieve one of the silly goals. Then I'm delighted and look around for someone to boast to but remember just in time what I'm about to boast about and slide shamefacedly back in my seat.
Well no more! I promise to change! Going forward I shall no longer be a slave to these wretched little games. I shall delete them all from my iphone and never again let them soil the purity of its screen. My time will be my own again and my achievements shall be legendary. Starting tomorrow I swear. For right now will someone please send me a goddamn earth wisp.
Monday, May 27, 2013
Saturday, May 11, 2013
I Tawt I Taw an Antipope
Why aren't there more popes called Sylvester? Seriously, what an awesome name for a pope. Sylvester just oozes papocity (or do I mean papality?). Sylvester is a name designed to wear a mitre. I mean look at what we've got now; Francis. Pope Frank?? People could be forgiven for assuming that Frank Sinatra had entered the church (although; catholic, arrogant, mafia connections? He sounds pretty well qualified). But surely Sylvester is a little better than Frank. There were three popes called Sylvester but for a few reasons the name never really gained the papal popularity it deserved.
The first Sylvester was pope at the time that the Roman emperor Constantine decided to make Christianity the number one religion in the empire (God had backed him in the battle that won him the imperial crown and this was Constantine's quid pro quo). It was an exciting time to be pope, churches were being built all over the place, councils were being held and all the persecutions were happening to somebody else for a change. How much more auspicious a beginning can you get for the name Sylvester?
Despite this amazing leg up it took six centuries before anybody else adopted the name Sylvester. Sylvester 2.0 was also the first French pope and he took the name because he saw himself as adviser to the Holy Roman emperor Otto III as the first Sylvester had been to Constantine (which was stretching the relationship a bit but whatever). The second Sylvester was a great admirer of Arabic learning (which he encountered in Spain) and reintroduced a lot of knowledge into Europe that had been lost with the collapse of the Roman empire. He also took steps against corruption in the church which it must be admitted is still a work in progress over a thousand years later. Being so close to the emperor had its disadvantages such as when the population of Rome rose in revolt against Otto and drove him from the city. Poor Sylvester had to run too and he didn't get back until after Otto was dead whereupon he died himself.
After that it has to be admitted that things went into a bit of a decline for the name Sylvester. There was a third who was pope for about a fortnight in 1045 but since his predecessor was still alive (and Sylvester was widely considered to have got the job through bribery) his tenure didn't last long. His predecessor excommunicated him and took his job back (that guy's name was Benedict. Coincidence? Maybe but if I was Francis I'd be double locking the doors). Strangely despite his dubious appointment and the manner of his removal Sylvester III is still considered an official pope of the Catholic church, possibly his only genuine achievement.
However what really put the kiss of death on Sylvester as a papal name was Sylvester IV. "But there were only three popes called Sylvester" I hear you cry. Or at least you should cry if you have been paying attention so far. Very true; Sylvester IV was an antipope (cue dramatic music). From time to time for various reasons (usually political but occasionally personal and, very rarely, moral) it is decided that God has made a bit of a mess of determining who should lead the Catholic church. When this happens the person in question is declared an antipope and is generally considered to be a bad guy.
Sylvester IV was elected pope by the Roman nobility with the support of the German king Henry V despite the fact that the church had a fairly serviceable pope already in the form of Paschal II. Paschal turned up in Rome the very next day breathing fire and Sylvester ran like a rat for safer pastures. A few years later Henry cut a deal with Paschal which included cutting Sylvester adrift and he was forced to resign from his pretensions.
So as you can see the name Sylvester has a somewhat patchy track record within the church. It's fair to say that early promise wasn't fulfilled. Still its been over eight hundred years since that last bit of "unpleasantness". Even with a corporate memory as long as the Vatican's surely its time to give the name Sylvester another chance. At least the new pope Sylvester would be starting from a pretty low benchmark.
The first Sylvester was pope at the time that the Roman emperor Constantine decided to make Christianity the number one religion in the empire (God had backed him in the battle that won him the imperial crown and this was Constantine's quid pro quo). It was an exciting time to be pope, churches were being built all over the place, councils were being held and all the persecutions were happening to somebody else for a change. How much more auspicious a beginning can you get for the name Sylvester?
Despite this amazing leg up it took six centuries before anybody else adopted the name Sylvester. Sylvester 2.0 was also the first French pope and he took the name because he saw himself as adviser to the Holy Roman emperor Otto III as the first Sylvester had been to Constantine (which was stretching the relationship a bit but whatever). The second Sylvester was a great admirer of Arabic learning (which he encountered in Spain) and reintroduced a lot of knowledge into Europe that had been lost with the collapse of the Roman empire. He also took steps against corruption in the church which it must be admitted is still a work in progress over a thousand years later. Being so close to the emperor had its disadvantages such as when the population of Rome rose in revolt against Otto and drove him from the city. Poor Sylvester had to run too and he didn't get back until after Otto was dead whereupon he died himself.
After that it has to be admitted that things went into a bit of a decline for the name Sylvester. There was a third who was pope for about a fortnight in 1045 but since his predecessor was still alive (and Sylvester was widely considered to have got the job through bribery) his tenure didn't last long. His predecessor excommunicated him and took his job back (that guy's name was Benedict. Coincidence? Maybe but if I was Francis I'd be double locking the doors). Strangely despite his dubious appointment and the manner of his removal Sylvester III is still considered an official pope of the Catholic church, possibly his only genuine achievement.
However what really put the kiss of death on Sylvester as a papal name was Sylvester IV. "But there were only three popes called Sylvester" I hear you cry. Or at least you should cry if you have been paying attention so far. Very true; Sylvester IV was an antipope (cue dramatic music). From time to time for various reasons (usually political but occasionally personal and, very rarely, moral) it is decided that God has made a bit of a mess of determining who should lead the Catholic church. When this happens the person in question is declared an antipope and is generally considered to be a bad guy.
Sylvester IV was elected pope by the Roman nobility with the support of the German king Henry V despite the fact that the church had a fairly serviceable pope already in the form of Paschal II. Paschal turned up in Rome the very next day breathing fire and Sylvester ran like a rat for safer pastures. A few years later Henry cut a deal with Paschal which included cutting Sylvester adrift and he was forced to resign from his pretensions.
So as you can see the name Sylvester has a somewhat patchy track record within the church. It's fair to say that early promise wasn't fulfilled. Still its been over eight hundred years since that last bit of "unpleasantness". Even with a corporate memory as long as the Vatican's surely its time to give the name Sylvester another chance. At least the new pope Sylvester would be starting from a pretty low benchmark.
The Shipwrecking News
On matters nautical for a brief moment it would appear that another ship has collided with Italy. This appears to be becoming a bit of a habit for seafarers in that part of the world. I've heard Italy called a lot of things over the years but "hazard to navigation" is new one. Let's face it Italy has been in roughly the same place for long enough to appear on most charts. There shouldn't be too many people who set sail from Dubrovnik, say, en route to Marseilles suddenly yelling "What the hell's that?" when Italy appears over the horizon.
The latest incident involves a cargo ship backing into the Genoa Port Authority tower. Andrea Doria must be spinning in his grave. For context, colliding with the port authority tower is rather like commencing your driving test by rear ending the examiners car. It's a little difficult to tiptoe away and pretend nothing happened.
Certainly Italy is in an inconvenient position, sticking out as it does into the Mediterranean but honestly there is a fair amount of open water on three sides of it. Anybody attempting to sail to the fourth side should expect shallow water, and mountains. Part of the problem I suspect is that for the most part collisions at sea are rather rare. There is a hell of a lot of water out there and all the ships in the world don't make much of a dent in it (although they are putting a bit of a dent in Italy). This holds true until you get to port. It's analogous to driving down an empty road, the danger is in the parking.
In light of Italy's new found vulnerability to at sea collisions I think it is up to me to provide some helpful advice to ship captains attempting to navigate (apparently a more flexible term than I believed) the waters around it.
The latest incident involves a cargo ship backing into the Genoa Port Authority tower. Andrea Doria must be spinning in his grave. For context, colliding with the port authority tower is rather like commencing your driving test by rear ending the examiners car. It's a little difficult to tiptoe away and pretend nothing happened.
Certainly Italy is in an inconvenient position, sticking out as it does into the Mediterranean but honestly there is a fair amount of open water on three sides of it. Anybody attempting to sail to the fourth side should expect shallow water, and mountains. Part of the problem I suspect is that for the most part collisions at sea are rather rare. There is a hell of a lot of water out there and all the ships in the world don't make much of a dent in it (although they are putting a bit of a dent in Italy). This holds true until you get to port. It's analogous to driving down an empty road, the danger is in the parking.
In light of Italy's new found vulnerability to at sea collisions I think it is up to me to provide some helpful advice to ship captains attempting to navigate (apparently a more flexible term than I believed) the waters around it.
- Firstly; equip yourself with a helpful phrasebook including lines like, "Excuse me, your fiat uno appears to be entangled in my propellor" and "I'm very sorry, I swear there was an ocean here yesterday".
- Secondly; make sure your satnav is one of the more modern ones that includes Italy. Any one manufactured after the birth of Christ should suffice.
- Thirdly; I don't care how much time it will shave off your journey, don't listen to the guy who says he knows a shortcut via Milan.
- Fourthly; if you do look out over the bridge and see the Colosseum gliding past, its probably time to hit the brakes and reverse.
Monday, May 6, 2013
Another Silly After Action Report
By December 1944 the tide of war had definitely turned on the Russian
front. This could be seen from the fact that Stalin had stopped even
pretending to be nice to people and various German generals had stopped
praising themselves and started work on their memoirs blaming everything
on Hitler. Further down the command chain German soldiers stopped
dreaming of victory and started dreaming of survival while Soviet
soldiers stopped dreaming of survival and started dreaming of victory.
Meanwhile behind the lines the SS started a vigorous campaign to murder
those people that they had so far unaccountably left alive.
In the north a Soviet offensive had cut off a large pocket of German troops in Courland. Showing the originality they are famous for military writers have dubbed it "the Courland Pocket". Of course the Germans could have evacuated by sea and used those troops to defend somewhere more useful such as (to take an example completely at random) Berlin. Naturally Hitler disagreed. By keeping the troops there he was tying down Soviet troops that could otherwise he used elsewhere. The fact that about two million Soviet troops were currently heading towards his location didn't manage to disabuse him. Still there was a grain of truth to his assumption. The pocket was too big to ignore so while their colleagues headed towards the "lair of the fascist beast" those who drew the short straw found themselves attacking the Courland Pocket.
This is Scenario J157; Rage Against the Machine which pits a charmingly eclectic group of Germans against onrushing Soviet hordes. Dave Wilson and I played this one on Saturday and I got to take the Germans attempting to hang on to a largely worthless piece of ground for another five minutes while Dave's Soviets battered at the gates. The Soviets have to take two of three objectives, a bridge in the south, a building in the centre and a crossroads in the north. They have an awesome array of firepower to do the job. Sixteen squads (including six elite), demolition charges, a heavy machine gun, a 9-1 leader plus a few light machine guns and a couple of lesser leaders to make up the numbers. In close support they have eight terrifying AFVs. Three T34/85 tanks (fast, well armoured, awesome gun) and five ISU self propelled guns carrying weaponry ranging from 122mm to 152mm in calibre (think of a heavily armoured barn set on tracks). To defend I got eleven squads of various enthusiasm from elite (ready to die for folk, fuhrer and fatherland), through first line (weary and disillusioned but willing to do their best), second line (looking nervously for the exits) and conscripts (wishing they'd joined the Salvation Army instead). To back up this all too scanty force was a medium machine gun, a couple of light machine guns, a single 75mm anti tank gun and a panzerschreck (basically a more difficult to pronounce bazooka). In addition each of my three officers was toting a panzerfaust capable of reducing the most formidable piece of armour to scrap metal with a single shot (which is good because a single shot is all they get). On turn three reinforcements in the form of a pair of jagdpanthers, a single StuG and a trio of elite squads with an lmg turn up to bolster what will by then no doubt be a frail defence.
So, to design my defence. The problem was the Soviets had the firepower to smash through pretty much anywhere. I designed my defence around the concept of delay rather than halt. A road ran just north of the river to the desired bridge and another road in the north lead directly into the village and the crossroads. Between these two roads was a mess of forest, orchards, brush, hedges, buildings and the occasional pond until one struck the village itself. Two small hills, one in the north and the other in the south overlooked their respective roads. I set up a front line of expendable units, dummy stacks and conscripts with the occasional second line or first line squad as a stiffener. I trailed units back along the north road in convenient buildings and patches of forest. Like an idiot I neglected to set anything up on the north hill itself and completely neglected the tiny (but completely open) passage between the north hill and the board edge. My pseudo defence stretched across the middle of the board but ended temptingly short of the southern river bank. Partly this was due to a lack of troops but mainly it was because it seemed obvious to me that a hidden schreck unit must be in the trees near the bridge and the AT gun was probably based in a handy patch of woods where it could cover the road approach. In short I didn't really expect him to try to hard for this one and felt I could deal with him if he did (wrong). Another squad with an officer was hidden in the small woods behind the northern hill hoping to take out a tank or two should they break through.
Dave's set up wrong footed a goodly portion of my defence as he place almost everything in the north leaving a modest diversionary force to attack through the centre. All eight of his AFVs were as far away from my AT gun as it was possible to be and remain on the board. While I was composing my concession speech Dave moved his forces forward. The bulk of his infantry shuffled circumspectly forward, positioning themselves to crush my frail defences on turn two. One of his T34s charged into the forest attempting to blaze a path for his comrades. Instead he bogged. In turn two he mired. In turn three he immobilised. The crew then hopped out and panted after the infantry now some way ahead, keep an eye on those bastards we'll meet them again. In the centre he probed my defences and inched forward while I decided for the most part that concealment was the better part of valour
In the north another of his tanks dropped a smoke shell into building H6 effectively blinding the hapless conscripts within. A couple of squads started exchanging fire with a couple of other defenders while the bulk of his force pushed toward the hill, armour lurking modestly behind. At this point I realised with mounting horror that I had no defences on the hill and Dave could swarm over (and behind) it with impunity. At the last moment I advanced a concealed squad onto the hilltop just before half the population of Moscow turned up. I knew that guy was dead before I sent him in and so it proved but before he went down (with a 122mm round to the head I believe) he managed to break four squads and impose a small delay on Dave's main force. Your iron crosses are in the mail guys.
Eventually Dave swarmed over and around the hill and drove a tank around to bolster his troops whereupon I promptly destroyed it with a panzerfaust from my officer hidden in the woods and committed a grievous rules violation in doing so (I am writing this mea culpa at Dave's insistence). You remember that the officer was hidden with a squad. I had revealed the squad earlier to fire at a juicy target moving in the open (and failed completely of course) but return fire had broken the squad. Since the officer was in the same hex (albeit still hidden) it too should have suffered the attack but I completely forgot to check. It was possible therefore that Dave's tank was destroyed by an officer who should already have been dead. We discovered this a turn later when it was too late to do anything about it so we settled for removing the offending officer from play.
Meanwhile in the south Dave had sent a pair of ISUs to support his attack which was working its way through my defences. With the route apparently clear the metal behemoths rumbled down the road straight into the line of sight of my AT gun. My gun promptly killed one of them (they're so big its difficult not to hit them) and startled the other. The rest of his diversionary force was engaged dealing with the remnants of my defence but at that point my idiotic gun crew broke their weapon and Dave felt free to move (they repaired the gun the next turn whereupon one of his squads promptly broke the crew instead).
Feeling unjustifiably confident about the ability of the southern flank to hold I brought my reinforcements on in the north. The two jagdpanthers went into the village to bolster the defenders struggling with the Soviet attack while the StuG parked itself behind a wall and tried to look menacing (its armour could be penetrated with a can opener so I was trying to keep it out of harms way). Two of the reinforcing squads went into the village and one with a lmg and leader moved into building 3aK3 which was one of two that had to be taken to command the crossroads. As my StuG positioned itself one of his tanks (or SP guns I forget) took a low odds shot at it which missed and my StuG returned the favour with the same result but in the next turn it put a round straight through the frontal armour for another kill. The tank crew from the immobilised vehicle had caught up with the main force now and started its own little flanking movement around the StuG to the north. Disdaining to fire on such a weakling the StuG targeted a more worthwhile enemy and promptly broke its gun.
Time was now running out and to get things moving Dave drove one of his tanks straight into a building where a melee was raging, right next to a jagdpanther. He failed to kill my squad (his squad succeeded in doing that all by themselves) but the next turn the jagdpanther reduced his tank to scrap. Another ISU broke into the village only to be nailed by a panzerfaust from an officer hiding in a building (kids, do not fire a panzerfaust inside a building, the backblast will kill you). Somehow my officer survived but the ISU didn't. Despite the armour losses Dave was crawling ever closer to the crossroads. Down in the south a squad, the crew from the mangled ISU and its surviving comrade rolled towards the bridge. The hidden half squad with the schreck took out the ISU but the squad and crew waltzed past while it was doing so and suddenly Dave had the bridge and I had no troops that could get there in time to recapture it.
Feeling the centre building to be safe (correct for a change) I focused on trying to hold the crossroads. I should have focused a little harder. Dave bled and limped and I think he lost another tank (I'm pretty sure he ended the game with only one) but had managed to get a large force of infantry right next to the building occupied by my reinforcement squad with the machine gun. I was left with a dilemma, drop concealment and hopefully shoot his best chance to pieces or stay concealed and make it that much harder for him to hit me. I chose to shoot, completely botched it and watched my guys get reduced to red mist in the defensive fire. Dave walked into the building on the last turn.
But wait,you cry, didn't you have to occupy two buildings to control the crossroads? Well that damned tank crew sneaked right around behind my StuG and into the other one while I was looking at the huge masses of infantry to my front. I realised the danger too late and missed my opportunity to eject them. Victory to Dave on the last turn congratulations to him and thanks for not hitting me about the head with a dice cup for that panzerfaust cock up earlier on.
In the north a Soviet offensive had cut off a large pocket of German troops in Courland. Showing the originality they are famous for military writers have dubbed it "the Courland Pocket". Of course the Germans could have evacuated by sea and used those troops to defend somewhere more useful such as (to take an example completely at random) Berlin. Naturally Hitler disagreed. By keeping the troops there he was tying down Soviet troops that could otherwise he used elsewhere. The fact that about two million Soviet troops were currently heading towards his location didn't manage to disabuse him. Still there was a grain of truth to his assumption. The pocket was too big to ignore so while their colleagues headed towards the "lair of the fascist beast" those who drew the short straw found themselves attacking the Courland Pocket.
This is Scenario J157; Rage Against the Machine which pits a charmingly eclectic group of Germans against onrushing Soviet hordes. Dave Wilson and I played this one on Saturday and I got to take the Germans attempting to hang on to a largely worthless piece of ground for another five minutes while Dave's Soviets battered at the gates. The Soviets have to take two of three objectives, a bridge in the south, a building in the centre and a crossroads in the north. They have an awesome array of firepower to do the job. Sixteen squads (including six elite), demolition charges, a heavy machine gun, a 9-1 leader plus a few light machine guns and a couple of lesser leaders to make up the numbers. In close support they have eight terrifying AFVs. Three T34/85 tanks (fast, well armoured, awesome gun) and five ISU self propelled guns carrying weaponry ranging from 122mm to 152mm in calibre (think of a heavily armoured barn set on tracks). To defend I got eleven squads of various enthusiasm from elite (ready to die for folk, fuhrer and fatherland), through first line (weary and disillusioned but willing to do their best), second line (looking nervously for the exits) and conscripts (wishing they'd joined the Salvation Army instead). To back up this all too scanty force was a medium machine gun, a couple of light machine guns, a single 75mm anti tank gun and a panzerschreck (basically a more difficult to pronounce bazooka). In addition each of my three officers was toting a panzerfaust capable of reducing the most formidable piece of armour to scrap metal with a single shot (which is good because a single shot is all they get). On turn three reinforcements in the form of a pair of jagdpanthers, a single StuG and a trio of elite squads with an lmg turn up to bolster what will by then no doubt be a frail defence.
So, to design my defence. The problem was the Soviets had the firepower to smash through pretty much anywhere. I designed my defence around the concept of delay rather than halt. A road ran just north of the river to the desired bridge and another road in the north lead directly into the village and the crossroads. Between these two roads was a mess of forest, orchards, brush, hedges, buildings and the occasional pond until one struck the village itself. Two small hills, one in the north and the other in the south overlooked their respective roads. I set up a front line of expendable units, dummy stacks and conscripts with the occasional second line or first line squad as a stiffener. I trailed units back along the north road in convenient buildings and patches of forest. Like an idiot I neglected to set anything up on the north hill itself and completely neglected the tiny (but completely open) passage between the north hill and the board edge. My pseudo defence stretched across the middle of the board but ended temptingly short of the southern river bank. Partly this was due to a lack of troops but mainly it was because it seemed obvious to me that a hidden schreck unit must be in the trees near the bridge and the AT gun was probably based in a handy patch of woods where it could cover the road approach. In short I didn't really expect him to try to hard for this one and felt I could deal with him if he did (wrong). Another squad with an officer was hidden in the small woods behind the northern hill hoping to take out a tank or two should they break through.
Dave's set up wrong footed a goodly portion of my defence as he place almost everything in the north leaving a modest diversionary force to attack through the centre. All eight of his AFVs were as far away from my AT gun as it was possible to be and remain on the board. While I was composing my concession speech Dave moved his forces forward. The bulk of his infantry shuffled circumspectly forward, positioning themselves to crush my frail defences on turn two. One of his T34s charged into the forest attempting to blaze a path for his comrades. Instead he bogged. In turn two he mired. In turn three he immobilised. The crew then hopped out and panted after the infantry now some way ahead, keep an eye on those bastards we'll meet them again. In the centre he probed my defences and inched forward while I decided for the most part that concealment was the better part of valour
In the north another of his tanks dropped a smoke shell into building H6 effectively blinding the hapless conscripts within. A couple of squads started exchanging fire with a couple of other defenders while the bulk of his force pushed toward the hill, armour lurking modestly behind. At this point I realised with mounting horror that I had no defences on the hill and Dave could swarm over (and behind) it with impunity. At the last moment I advanced a concealed squad onto the hilltop just before half the population of Moscow turned up. I knew that guy was dead before I sent him in and so it proved but before he went down (with a 122mm round to the head I believe) he managed to break four squads and impose a small delay on Dave's main force. Your iron crosses are in the mail guys.
Eventually Dave swarmed over and around the hill and drove a tank around to bolster his troops whereupon I promptly destroyed it with a panzerfaust from my officer hidden in the woods and committed a grievous rules violation in doing so (I am writing this mea culpa at Dave's insistence). You remember that the officer was hidden with a squad. I had revealed the squad earlier to fire at a juicy target moving in the open (and failed completely of course) but return fire had broken the squad. Since the officer was in the same hex (albeit still hidden) it too should have suffered the attack but I completely forgot to check. It was possible therefore that Dave's tank was destroyed by an officer who should already have been dead. We discovered this a turn later when it was too late to do anything about it so we settled for removing the offending officer from play.
Meanwhile in the south Dave had sent a pair of ISUs to support his attack which was working its way through my defences. With the route apparently clear the metal behemoths rumbled down the road straight into the line of sight of my AT gun. My gun promptly killed one of them (they're so big its difficult not to hit them) and startled the other. The rest of his diversionary force was engaged dealing with the remnants of my defence but at that point my idiotic gun crew broke their weapon and Dave felt free to move (they repaired the gun the next turn whereupon one of his squads promptly broke the crew instead).
Feeling unjustifiably confident about the ability of the southern flank to hold I brought my reinforcements on in the north. The two jagdpanthers went into the village to bolster the defenders struggling with the Soviet attack while the StuG parked itself behind a wall and tried to look menacing (its armour could be penetrated with a can opener so I was trying to keep it out of harms way). Two of the reinforcing squads went into the village and one with a lmg and leader moved into building 3aK3 which was one of two that had to be taken to command the crossroads. As my StuG positioned itself one of his tanks (or SP guns I forget) took a low odds shot at it which missed and my StuG returned the favour with the same result but in the next turn it put a round straight through the frontal armour for another kill. The tank crew from the immobilised vehicle had caught up with the main force now and started its own little flanking movement around the StuG to the north. Disdaining to fire on such a weakling the StuG targeted a more worthwhile enemy and promptly broke its gun.
Time was now running out and to get things moving Dave drove one of his tanks straight into a building where a melee was raging, right next to a jagdpanther. He failed to kill my squad (his squad succeeded in doing that all by themselves) but the next turn the jagdpanther reduced his tank to scrap. Another ISU broke into the village only to be nailed by a panzerfaust from an officer hiding in a building (kids, do not fire a panzerfaust inside a building, the backblast will kill you). Somehow my officer survived but the ISU didn't. Despite the armour losses Dave was crawling ever closer to the crossroads. Down in the south a squad, the crew from the mangled ISU and its surviving comrade rolled towards the bridge. The hidden half squad with the schreck took out the ISU but the squad and crew waltzed past while it was doing so and suddenly Dave had the bridge and I had no troops that could get there in time to recapture it.
Feeling the centre building to be safe (correct for a change) I focused on trying to hold the crossroads. I should have focused a little harder. Dave bled and limped and I think he lost another tank (I'm pretty sure he ended the game with only one) but had managed to get a large force of infantry right next to the building occupied by my reinforcement squad with the machine gun. I was left with a dilemma, drop concealment and hopefully shoot his best chance to pieces or stay concealed and make it that much harder for him to hit me. I chose to shoot, completely botched it and watched my guys get reduced to red mist in the defensive fire. Dave walked into the building on the last turn.
But wait,you cry, didn't you have to occupy two buildings to control the crossroads? Well that damned tank crew sneaked right around behind my StuG and into the other one while I was looking at the huge masses of infantry to my front. I realised the danger too late and missed my opportunity to eject them. Victory to Dave on the last turn congratulations to him and thanks for not hitting me about the head with a dice cup for that panzerfaust cock up earlier on.
Monday, April 29, 2013
Unpleasant Historical Date #1
On this day in 1091 AD the Byzantine emperor Alexios Komnenos won a crushing victory over the Pechenegs. This was very good news for Alexios as up until this point in his reign the crushing victories had tended to be won by his opponents. The previous twenty odd years had been bad ones for Byzantium. Political idiocy, rampant treachery and military inefficiency had led to a catastrophic defeat at the battle of Manzikert at the hands of the Seljuk Turks. The Byzantines had followed this up with even more political ineptitude and a series of uprisings and civil wars which allowed the Turks to follow up their victory by conquering most of Asia Minor (most of what today is in fact called Turkey).
Alexios came to the throne in the traditional manner; he was a general who thought he could do a better job of running the empire than the incumbent. Since it had been Alexios' generalship which had defeated the last three uprisings he was probably right. Very soon after gaining the throne Alexios realised he might have done better to stay at home. The empire was bankrupt, had lost most of its Asian territory to the Turks and the Normans were busy invading the European provinces. In addition corruption, treachery and political opportunism were rife and most of the army had been killed, enslaved, captured or deserted due to lack of pay. Part of what was left was in revolt.
After being beaten about the Balkans by the Normans and with the Turks still encroaching to the east Alexios desperately needed a win. He got it when the Pechenegs decided to invade as well. The Pechenegs were a nomad nation who seem to have existed largely so that inhabitants of more settled regions could be terrified by them. Eighty odd thousand of them including wives and children poured across the Byzantine border and started cheerfully looting their way to Constantinople.
Scraping together what remained of his army once the Normans were finished with it Alexios set off to do battle. Most of his force was actually about forty thousand Cuman tribesmen whom he had hired on the ancient Byzantine principle of "why use your own army when you can buy somebody elses". Near the small town of Levounion Alexios caught up with the Pechenegs and launched an attack. It would be pleasant to record heroic tales of derring do as a revitalised empire reclaimed its own but in actual fact it would appear that most of the Pechenegs were asleep. What followed although dignified with the title of "Battle of Levounion" could probably be better described as a massacre. The Pechenegs were eliminated as an independent nation for all time (so far) and Alexios was able to claim a much needed victory.
It was hardly the most edifying way to start a restoration but Alexios was able to build on this victory to reorganise what was left of the empire, see off the Normans and start to chip away at the Turkish conquests in the east. Perhaps more importantly for him it gave him some breathing space at a time when a lot of his political opponents were contemplating removing that privilege from him completely. As for what remained of the Pechenegs. Well Alexios still needed mercenaries so the survivors wound up serving in the Byzantine army. This was another Byzantine tradition. Never beat your enemies so badly that you can't hire what's left to fight somebody else.
Alexios came to the throne in the traditional manner; he was a general who thought he could do a better job of running the empire than the incumbent. Since it had been Alexios' generalship which had defeated the last three uprisings he was probably right. Very soon after gaining the throne Alexios realised he might have done better to stay at home. The empire was bankrupt, had lost most of its Asian territory to the Turks and the Normans were busy invading the European provinces. In addition corruption, treachery and political opportunism were rife and most of the army had been killed, enslaved, captured or deserted due to lack of pay. Part of what was left was in revolt.
After being beaten about the Balkans by the Normans and with the Turks still encroaching to the east Alexios desperately needed a win. He got it when the Pechenegs decided to invade as well. The Pechenegs were a nomad nation who seem to have existed largely so that inhabitants of more settled regions could be terrified by them. Eighty odd thousand of them including wives and children poured across the Byzantine border and started cheerfully looting their way to Constantinople.
Scraping together what remained of his army once the Normans were finished with it Alexios set off to do battle. Most of his force was actually about forty thousand Cuman tribesmen whom he had hired on the ancient Byzantine principle of "why use your own army when you can buy somebody elses". Near the small town of Levounion Alexios caught up with the Pechenegs and launched an attack. It would be pleasant to record heroic tales of derring do as a revitalised empire reclaimed its own but in actual fact it would appear that most of the Pechenegs were asleep. What followed although dignified with the title of "Battle of Levounion" could probably be better described as a massacre. The Pechenegs were eliminated as an independent nation for all time (so far) and Alexios was able to claim a much needed victory.
It was hardly the most edifying way to start a restoration but Alexios was able to build on this victory to reorganise what was left of the empire, see off the Normans and start to chip away at the Turkish conquests in the east. Perhaps more importantly for him it gave him some breathing space at a time when a lot of his political opponents were contemplating removing that privilege from him completely. As for what remained of the Pechenegs. Well Alexios still needed mercenaries so the survivors wound up serving in the Byzantine army. This was another Byzantine tradition. Never beat your enemies so badly that you can't hire what's left to fight somebody else.
Travel Broadens the Scope for Disaster
I dislike making plans. Part of the reason is making plans is work which is an immediate disincentive to someone as lazy as myself. However the main reason I dislike making plans is because my plans rarely work. Frequently the only purpose my plans serve is to provide a retrospective benchmark to enable me to determine how widely reality diverged from intention. The result of this is when I do make plans they tend to be very simple and overengineered to the point of insanity.
If I need to be at a certain place at a certain time I will arrange to get there two hours earlier. What this means is I actually arrive two hours earlier. On the occasions when I give myself a ten minute buffer I tend to arrive two hours late. The apollo programme put men on the moon with less of a safety margin than I build into a simple trip overseas. In my defence I would like to point out that the apollo astronauts took their food, transport and accomodation with them and as far as I'm aware they didn't even need passports. "Welcome back from the moon Mr Armstrong. Do you have anything to declare?"
Still planning does make things easier. In my case it makes it easier to tell when things are going wrong. Sometimes I wonder why I bother making plans at all and suspect that a large proportion of it is so that I can look around at reality and assure myself that this isn't what I intended.
The motivation for this rumination on plans and planning is my upcoming and apparently inevitable trip to Europe. I'm planning on visiting four cities in five weeks. I tell my friends and family that this is so I have enough time to "do" each city thoroughly. In actual fact it is to provide sufficient time so that I can hardly fail to see something. All that I do know for certain is that I will see London because that is where my plane lands. It would be helpful if I can get to Vienna because that is where my plane home departs from. Somewhere in between these two fixed temporal and spatial points are supposed to be visits to Berlin and Prague, we shall see.
It's been a while since I went travelling and I rather suspect I'm out of practice. The last time I organised a holiday on my own they didn't have electronic ticketing and I'm viewing the email with what purports to be my ticket with a great deal of suspicion. I starting to suspect there might at least be an outside chance that I won't get out of the country at all. Maybe that could be my plan.
If I need to be at a certain place at a certain time I will arrange to get there two hours earlier. What this means is I actually arrive two hours earlier. On the occasions when I give myself a ten minute buffer I tend to arrive two hours late. The apollo programme put men on the moon with less of a safety margin than I build into a simple trip overseas. In my defence I would like to point out that the apollo astronauts took their food, transport and accomodation with them and as far as I'm aware they didn't even need passports. "Welcome back from the moon Mr Armstrong. Do you have anything to declare?"
Still planning does make things easier. In my case it makes it easier to tell when things are going wrong. Sometimes I wonder why I bother making plans at all and suspect that a large proportion of it is so that I can look around at reality and assure myself that this isn't what I intended.
The motivation for this rumination on plans and planning is my upcoming and apparently inevitable trip to Europe. I'm planning on visiting four cities in five weeks. I tell my friends and family that this is so I have enough time to "do" each city thoroughly. In actual fact it is to provide sufficient time so that I can hardly fail to see something. All that I do know for certain is that I will see London because that is where my plane lands. It would be helpful if I can get to Vienna because that is where my plane home departs from. Somewhere in between these two fixed temporal and spatial points are supposed to be visits to Berlin and Prague, we shall see.
It's been a while since I went travelling and I rather suspect I'm out of practice. The last time I organised a holiday on my own they didn't have electronic ticketing and I'm viewing the email with what purports to be my ticket with a great deal of suspicion. I starting to suspect there might at least be an outside chance that I won't get out of the country at all. Maybe that could be my plan.
The Advice is Free, the Consequences Aren't
If I could give one piece of advice to everybody coming to me for answers that piece would be "Ask somebody else". Frankly the things I'm qualified to give advice on are few and don't often come up in day to day life. Not that anybody does come to me for advice of course but I thought I'd get in early. To be frank I'm not crazy about the entire advice giving thing anyway. For starters there is always the danger that somebody might take it. Taking advice is a rare occurrence but it does happen and people usually contrive to do it on those occasions when they really shouldn't.
Except in highly specific cases taking advice is generally a bad idea. Of course advice like "don't wander into traffic" and "unload the gun before you start cleaning it" is always useful but by and large advice is a terrible thing. This is particularly the case when the advice is something like "you should lead your life in such and such a way". The reason is simple; if you're the sort of person whose decision making is so bad that you require advice on how to live your life then you are unlikely to make any better decision when choosing who to take advice from.
The previous sentence does more than anything else to explain the success of self help books. It would be an interesting exercise to see how many authors of self help books actually read one before getting themselves into a position where they felt they could dish out advice to others. I've often considered writing one myself. It's simple enough really; take a bunch of largely self evident platitudes, mix in with some parables (the type and style will depend on your audience; Emily Post for stay at home mums, Sun Tzu for corporate wannabes) add a couple of examples (they don't need to be real but they should be marginally plausible) and continually tell your readership how wonderful they could be if they apply the lessons of your book. The unspoken subtext being, how dreadful they are right now.
Ultimately though I decided against writing How to Improve Every Facet of Your Life Beyond Belief in Just Three Easy Lessons partly from moral reasons (if I'm that desperate for the cash I'll go into something a little more respectable like prostitution or drug dealing) but mainly because I doubt if I could write more than a paragraph without descending into mocking sarcasm. There is also the danger that someone will take your advice. Then they will blame you when something appalling happens to them (and if they take my advice it probably will).
Of course the absolutely worst result of all would be if they took my advice and were wildly successful. That would just be a little too much to bear. Although I suppose I could possibly borrow money from them.
Except in highly specific cases taking advice is generally a bad idea. Of course advice like "don't wander into traffic" and "unload the gun before you start cleaning it" is always useful but by and large advice is a terrible thing. This is particularly the case when the advice is something like "you should lead your life in such and such a way". The reason is simple; if you're the sort of person whose decision making is so bad that you require advice on how to live your life then you are unlikely to make any better decision when choosing who to take advice from.
The previous sentence does more than anything else to explain the success of self help books. It would be an interesting exercise to see how many authors of self help books actually read one before getting themselves into a position where they felt they could dish out advice to others. I've often considered writing one myself. It's simple enough really; take a bunch of largely self evident platitudes, mix in with some parables (the type and style will depend on your audience; Emily Post for stay at home mums, Sun Tzu for corporate wannabes) add a couple of examples (they don't need to be real but they should be marginally plausible) and continually tell your readership how wonderful they could be if they apply the lessons of your book. The unspoken subtext being, how dreadful they are right now.
Ultimately though I decided against writing How to Improve Every Facet of Your Life Beyond Belief in Just Three Easy Lessons partly from moral reasons (if I'm that desperate for the cash I'll go into something a little more respectable like prostitution or drug dealing) but mainly because I doubt if I could write more than a paragraph without descending into mocking sarcasm. There is also the danger that someone will take your advice. Then they will blame you when something appalling happens to them (and if they take my advice it probably will).
Of course the absolutely worst result of all would be if they took my advice and were wildly successful. That would just be a little too much to bear. Although I suppose I could possibly borrow money from them.
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