Another Royal Commission

The public bank bollocking known as the Royal Commission into What A Pack of Thieving Dishonest Bastards the Financial Industry Are rolls on with representative after representative of our most hallowed financial institutions taking the stand to essentially agree that yes, they were dishonest at worst and gob smackingly incompetent at best and that yes, they had essentially prioritised their own profits over their customer's interests because, well duh!

Along the way all the usual people are making all of the usual noises.  The Labor party is crowing delightedly while secretly being glad that all this didn't come to light when they were in office.  The Coalition is stuck between jumping enthusiastically on the bandwagon to cover their initial objection to the Commission and a mulish refusal to acknowledge that they'd opposed the thing at all while all of the media commentators are tut tutting while watching the revenue from their royal commission articles skyrocket.  People are shocked, shocked I tell you.

Why?  I'm not shocked.  I'm not even particularly surprised.  I can't say that I knew specifics of any of the dubious, immoral, dishonest and possibly downright criminal activity the finance industry was getting up to but the fact that they were doing it doesn't surprise me at all.  It isn't (I think) that I have a low opinion of humanity generally or the denizens of the financial services industry in particular.  I just asked myself two simple questions.  Will actions of this sort generate more income for their employer (and ultimately themselves)? and Is the likelihood of getting caught, or being punished in any appreciable way if they are caught, low?  If the answer to both those questions is "yes" then you can be pretty sure they're doing it.  As a general rule human beings do whatever they think they can get away with.

So what punishments will be levied upon the guilty wretches who have so thoroughly abused the public trust?  You're watching it really.  This public shaming is essentially their punishment.  Oh, a few people have had to resign, no doubt some fines will be levied and probably there will be some more regulations for our overstretched and underfunded regulators to pretend to enforce.  The resignees will get other jobs in the industry, the fines will be paid, the regulations will be ignored or circumvented and everybody will get on with business as usual until the next royal commission.

A question which has been raised a number of times in various media outlets has been "how can so many people of high personal integrity have turned out to be so dodgy in their professional lives"?  Leaving aside the fact that if they're dodgy in their professional lives then they don't have high personal integrity the answer is twofold.  Firstly where there is money there will be thieves.  A cliché but like most clichés grounded in truth.  Secondly and more importantly, the people running these major financial institutions have only the vaguest idea of what they're doing.  This isn't terribly surprising, our captains of industry aren't necessarily any brighter than the average man on the street.  They're better educated and they should have some experience but a vast sprawling financial services company (or any large enterprise) has so much going on that it would take a workaholic genius to be on top of all of it.

Basically the job of the board is to tell those under them to make money.  If those under them do that then the board is considered successful.  It probably also helps if the board doesn't ask too many questions about how that money is made.  Questions like that, if answered, might reduce the amount of money being made and suddenly the board would appear less successful.  Nobody wants to appear unsuccessful, particularly when that might impact your ability to get more board positions.

So what can be done?  Here's a bright idea that will go nowhere.  When I was studying money laundering (trying to combat it, not undertake it) I learnt that the thing drug dealers disliked most was not going to gaol.  Of course they didn't like that but what they hated most was having their assets confiscated.  They had worked hard and taken serious risks to amass that wealth and losing it (particularly when they went to gaol as well) really bit them.  In the financial industry making money is what people do.  Take away their money and they'll just make more.

So my suggestion; scrap prison sentences for drug dealers in favour of asset confiscation and I don't mean "proceeds of crime" I mean file the gold fillings out of their grandparents mouths and leave the entire family naked in the streets.  Lets see how many drug dealers can put up with their trophy wives bitching about having to live in a cardboard box.  For financial criminals, I wouldn't even yank their licences, just send them to prison.  They can pick up their careers when they get out.  In times to come perhaps a stint or two in Lithgow or Goulburn correctional centres will be a must have on a financial advisors CV.  At the very least it might help an over stretched and not over bright board decide who to hire.

Silly After Action Report

In 1935 Italy invaded Ethiopia.  Why?  Largely pique.  Italy had had a go at conquering Ethiopia the previous century and got their arse handed to them in a sack.  Since every other European nation was tearing themselves off chunks of the African continent without a military disaster the whole thing was rather humiliating.  For a while it looked like history might repeat itself but fortunately for the Italians poison gas had been invented in the meantime.  Even more fortunately the word hadn't filtered through to the Ethiopians.

Once Ethiopia was (more or less) conquered the Italians set up one of the "heroes" of the invasion, Rodolfo Graziani, as viceroy.  His policies were, shall we say, vigorous towards those Ethiopians who might still prefer their country to be run by an Ethiopian.  Graziani had to step down after somebody protested about his policies by tossing a grenade at him.  With the top job in Ethiopia suddenly open Mussolini made one of his better decisions by appointing Prince Amadeo, Duke of Aosta as viceroy in his place.  A cousin of the Italian king Aosta was tall, charming, cultured and handsome.  The king who was none of those things showed a disturbing eagerness to see his far too popular cousin packed off to darkest Africa.

When Mussolini joined the Second World War (in retrospect not one of his best decisions) the Duke of Aosta suddenly found himself commanding Italian forces in Ethiopia which were pretty much surrounded by British colonies.  The danger was far more apparent than real as the British barely had any troops in the area and were deeply concerned that Aosta's 150 000 soldiers might launch an invasion of the Sudan and Egypt in conjunction with the quarter million troops that the Italians had in Libya.

Aosta did think about it but there were a few problems.  Firstly the army in Libya was commanded by Rodolfo Graziani who was never keen on attacking someone who might fight back.  Secondly while the army in Ethiopia was sitting on top of a vast stockpile of supplies and ammunition they were cut off from Italy and they wouldn't be getting any more.  If he launched an invasion and bungled it every resource used would be that much less to defend Ethiopia from the inevitable counterattack.  Finally a good deal of the army was still engaged in persuading the supposedly conquered Ethiopians not to kill every Italian they came across.

So Aosta stood on the strategic defensive.  But he decided not to be totally inert (and straight away you can tell that he wasn't a full time Italian general) and launched a couple of attackettes to capture valuable positions on the Sudanese and Kenyan borders.  With those under his belt he decided to conquer British Somalia.  The question as to why leads to broader questions such as what were the British doing there in the first place.  Somalia was as desirable as real estate then as it is now.  Even the locals only live there because they don't have a choice.

Still the Italians gathered together about thirty thousand troops plus some tanks and artillery and invaded a place most people are quite desperate to leave.  Included in that number were the British who didn't have the resources to defend the place and if they did would have used them somewhere more valuable (anywhere really).  The only real battle took place in a group of hills outside the capital where the British garrison made a stand so that the Italians couldn't claim a walk over.

This is the very venerable ASL scenario A39, Showdown at Tug Argan Pass.  Here I shall command the conquering Italian legions (mostly Eritrean actually) attempting to push Ivan Kent's British (mostly Indian actually) off a particular hill.  To defend this particular hill Ivan has the equivalent of thirteen second line squads, three light machine guns, a single heavy machine gun, a 51mm mortar a pair of antitank rifles and a radio that connects him to an 80mm artillery battery with scarce ammunition.  To seize possible the most valueless real estate on the planet I have nineteen and a half first line squad equivalents, four elite squads (assault engineers) carrying a selection of lmgs, demo charges, a medium and a heavy machine gun and a dinky little 45mm mortar.  The real Italian punch is in their artillery and armour.  100mm offboard artillery with plentiful ammunition firing smoke and HE and six tanks.  Two of the wretched little L3s that turned up everywhere the Italians did battle, a single lancia fiamme flamethrower variant of the L3 and three M11/39 tanks crappy but unopposed.

The entire Italian force has to enter on the first turn which left me wondering exactly how to deploy my mass of infantry.  Eventually I decided on two thrusts.  To win I had to capture a specific hill location in the north (right hand side) and also a majority of the level four hill hexes.  My right hand force contained a little more than half my infantry (including all of my assault engineers) and my best officers.  Also there was a tank platoon consisting of the two L3s and the flamethrower.  These would target the northern objective.  Further south was the remainder of my infantry with the three M11s.  They would head towards the other hill hexes.

At start

I had intended to shroud my advance in the north with smoke from my artillery but I started moving before the artillery was ready.  In retrospect I should have been more patient.  With nine turns I had plenty of time.  Still my tanks clanked forward throwing up vehicular dust will the infantry plodded along in their wake.  It all seemed to go reasonably well.  I lost a half squad or two to Ivan's fire but that's why they were running around the desert shouting "look at me!".  Then things went horribly wrong.  Ivan had his hmg up on the target hill location (of course) and he also got his artillery into action before I did.  The result was a hideous massacre.

End of my first turn, not looking too bad

Ivan dropped his artillery right down on top of my northern group of troops and over the course of the next couple of turns systematically exterminated them.  His hmg added to the carnage all while my own troops were still too far away to return fire.  The only result I got was when a sniper shot dead his 9-1 who was directing the hmg.  This is even more significant than it sounds as Ivan only had three leaders for his entire force.  

The second turn proceeded in much the same fashion with rivers of Italian (ok mainly Eritrean) blood soaking into the sand as Ivan punished me brutally for my foolishness in not being more spread out.  I had joked to Ivan before the game that with twenty three squads that all had to enter on turn one I should really just line them up the length of the board.  Possibly that would have been a better idea.  I honestly thought I had lost the game in the first couple of turns.  At the end of turn two eleven Italian squads were out, either dead or broken beyond likely redemption.  Ivan's sole casualty was still his 9-1.

It looked so bad that Ivan offered to restart the game but I decided I had made my bed and should lie in it.  There were a couple of faint gleams of light.  Firstly Ivan had concentrated on the northern force.  My southern group were still advancing largely unmolested with the M11s in the van.  Secondly Ivan had concentrated on killing infantry so my little L3 wedge was also advancing with impunity.  It just didn't have any infantry to back it up.  Finally I got my artillery into gear and while 100mm Italian artillery didn't seem to be as good as 80mm British I did start to break the occasional squad on the hill mass.

The sole survivors of the northern massacre were a pair of elite squads toting support weapons and guided by my best leaders.  They didn't so much advance as flee forward until they found a gully to hide in.  There wasn't really any plan to that advance, they were just trying to get out of the way of the artillery. In the south I managed much better tank/infantry coordination and rolled up to his forward defences largely unscathed.  Ivan was defending this hill mass lightly with a pair of squads in sangars forward and a couple of concealed units in foxholes on the summit.  I suspected (accurately) that one of them was an officer with his radio.

Things continued to go well in the south where an M11 wiped out a defending squad with a critical hit and a second broke his other squad while my infantry lurked in the vehicle dust and waited for the shooting to be over.  With his forward defence broken my southern forces swept onward.

Things don't seem to be going too badly in the south.  Famous last words

In the north the L3 platoon, proudly alone, pushed into Ivan's defences and started burning him out of them.  My lancia fiamme was leading the assault and ignoring increasingly desperate anti tank rifle shots managed to fry and otherwise deal with Ivan's forward positions.  I had finally managed to get my artillery going and was dropping not particularly accurate shellfire onto Ivan's position.  Thanks to his foxholes and sangars I wasn't achieving the hideous slaughter that Ivan had gained with his artillery but nevertheless I was breaking or pinning some units and moving about started to become somewhat problematic for the defenders.

Taking advantage of the fact that Ivan's attention was focussed on the L3s I managed to race a squad with an lmg across to provide at least token infantry support.  So far his achievements to date have been to keep one British squad under DM and to break his own lmg.  It has to be said that Ivan's anti tank rifles were something of a disappointment to him.  Neither of them scored a hit (L3s are very small and you'd better believe I kept them in motion) and the flamethrower broke the squad manning one while the other broke the atr itself.  With his hmg as his only anti tank weapon I started to feel a little confident.  That was stupid as Ivan promptly stunned my flamethrower with his hmg and a stun is a recall on these little things.  My flamethrower was gone but worse was to come.  The surviving L3s had started climbing the hill and had done good service keeping broken squads DM'ed but then Ivan tossed aside his useless anti tank rifles and attacked them with tooth and claw.  A squad charged into CC and ripped an inoffensive little L3 to pieces with its bare hands.

In the south a squad and 8-0 have captured my first victory location.  Artillery would slaughter them immediately afterwards

To the south my advance was painfully slow as gullies, crags and cliff hexsides made getting up the hill a wincingly painful affair.  My little mortar had unshipped and started pounding his radio operator but its only achievement was a critical hit which resulted in the officer becoming heroic.  Not quite the result I was looking for.  In return Ivan switched his artillery to the southern hill mass and the slaughter of the Italian infantry began all over again.  I simply had no answer to this.  Ivan's troops can lurk in foxholes and sangars but mine are in the open and they are dying in droves.  To add insult to injury a snake eyes also burnt an M11 leaving me with a grand total of three tanks from six starters.  Again all the handful of survivors can do is struggle forward and pray.  Far to the rear a 6+1 officer (he started the game as a 7-0) has managed to self rally and celebrated the fact by killing a broken halfsquad he was stacked with.  In the centre an elite squad with a demo charge has actually managed to rally himself as well.

Again things looked ghastly but again they weren't quite as bad as they seemed.  My advance towards the northern hill had pretty much stopped but I had an lmg squad and an elite squad with a DC coming to help.  In the south the dreadful carnage had concealed the fact that Ivan hadn't managed to kill quite every one.  While the centre of my push was an unrelieved bloodbath other squads were struggling up the hill on the flanks and Ivan's sole defenders were an officer (with radio) and a half squad with what turned out to be an inconveniently placed mortar.  My two elite squads were crawling and scrambling up a gully heading towards the hilltop.

Regrouping mentally I finally struggled up to the top of the southern hill mass and started claiming victory locations.  Ivan's radio operator finally decided it was time to leave and scurried out of his foxhole towards what he fondly imagined was safety.  My 9-2 (remember him, it seems such a long time since he did anything) led his hmg squad out of the gully towards a pair of hill hexes in the centre which had a couple of attractions.  They were victory locations in their own right and perched up in the crags my hmg team would be able to sweep the northern hill with fire.  This was good because over on the northern hill things had got, if anything worse.  I dropped artillery fire down on the hills forward slopes to break the units there and dissuade Ivan from reinforcing them.  The sole result of this 100mm artillery barrage was that a broken, green halfsquad went berserk.  Worse was to come.  Ivan still had a squad forward in a foxhole but my remaining L3 was sitting next to him.  8+2 isn't a bad shot.  It is when you roll an eleven and break the MA on your remaining L3.  Then Ivan contrived to break my lmg squad which was currently the only Italian within a dozen hexes capable of producing any firepower.  I may have wept at this.  Re the previous sentence, delete the phrase "may have".

Well the southern hill is mine.  The north is a little iffy

To add insult to injury Ivan's berserk halfsquad charged into close combat with my remaining (and now unarmed) tank.  Fortunately these tankers were made of sterner stuff than their compatriots and all Ivan's guys could do was claw feebly at the paintwork.  The southern hill mass was mine, Ivan did try calling artillery down on his own position but then decided to run away instead.  When he reached "safety" and called up his artillery again he drew his second red chit much to my relief.

Despite the casualties I have an almost embarrassingly large force on the southern hill mass

I was slowly coming to the realisation that I just didn't have the troops in the north to achieve a result.  My force there consisted of one lmg squad (broken) one elite squad and an L3 with a busted machine gun and a bunch of green troops jumping up and down on it shouting "Kill!"  Then things managed to get better and worse pretty much simultaneously.  Believe it or not the lmg squad self rallied.  Far to the rear the 6+1 officer rallied an lmg toting halfsquad which was good for morale but was too far away to have an effect on the game.  Then a sniper broke the elite squad with the DC.  Apparently one squad was all I was permitted to have on the northern hill.  Ivan had rallied a decent amount of his force on the reverse slope of the hill and settled in for a comfortable defence.  Then my recently placed hmg opened up and literally swept the front of the hill clear of living defenders.  Even the berserkers died under the withering fire.

Ivan abruptly decided not to push his recently rallied troops forward to occupy the abandoned sangars.  The hill location I needed was empty if I could get to it.  But could I?  I miraculously repaired the L3's armament but apparently on the grounds that one miracle was enough per turn I failed the independent movement die roll.  This meant it was all up to the single lmg squad.  With the forward hill rendered harmless he moved forward and advanced into a sanger next to my target.  This was Ivan's final turn and this single squad would have to survive everything that Ivan could throw at it.  I suppose, technically, it did.

I'm occupying the sangar marked by the red circle.  The atr squad nearby is broken

Ivan realised, more swiftly than I did, that he didn't actually have to kill my guys.  He just had to stop them moving.  They were the only unit I had that could reach the victory hill.  Prep fire having proved unsuccessful he assault moved a squad and a leader next to my boys.  I held off firing (in retrospect a mistake), he already had a squad in the hex and I wanted to hit the lot in defensive fire.  Hit them I did, I broke one squad but the other with an 8-1 leader survived.  They then advanced into CC with my guys.  To their credit the Italians didn't die but neither could they kill Ivan's troops.  With my only squad locked up in melee as we entered the last turn I had one tiny chance.  I fired on the melee with my hmg team.  If I broke his guys and not my own I would be able to advance out.  It was a tiny chance and perhaps deservedly it didn't come off.  At the end Ivan squeaked a win by the skin of his teeth.

In retrospect I lost the game in the first couple of turns when I offered groups of infantry as fodder for Ivan's artillery and didn't wait until I'd brought down my own.  Subsequent to that committing the M11s to the southern hill mass was a mistake.  They broke his front line but then should have been sent to support their L3 comrades in the north.  It is almost impossible for tanks to climb that southern hill, the survivors had only just reached the top when the game ended.  Nevertheless it was a great game with swings of fortune on both sides and I very nearly pulled off an undeserved win.  Thanks to Ivan for the game.  I'm not sure what we're playing next.  Having pandered to a long held desire of mine to play this scenario I've invited him to dig out his own guilty pleasure for our next encounter.

Tuna and Light Rail

From time to time I wander from my desk to a nearby food court and my favourite purveyor of semi healthy foodish things.  Here I frequently order a tuna roll.  I started doing this largely because it turns out that tuna is the only sea dwelling creature (apart from otters) that I can actually eat.  Now, however, I have an entirely new reason for ordering it.  The order is quite a simple one; tuna roll with salt, pepper and vinegar.  What could be simpler?  I watch them as they go through it.  Roll procured, sliced open and spread with butter? Check.  Mashed lump of something putatively tuna scraped out of bowl and plastered over aforementioned roll? Check.  Salt and pepper waved sparingly in the air mere inches away from my roll?  Check.  Vinegar?  At this point the entire process comes to a screeching halt.

The server blinks, holds the docket closer, frowns, turns to a colleague who looks at the docket and repeats the process.  The person who took my order is urgently consulted.  Said person nods in confirmation.  The first server stares at the docket as though she just can't believe it and then looks around somewhat helplessly as if she's expecting vinegar to leap out from behind a bench and beat her to death.  After a couple of minutes, with obvious trepidation, she walks into the back of the shop and returns gingerly carrying a huge flask of vinegar.  With wincing care she squeezes precisely three drops of vinegar onto the tuna, wraps up my roll and presents it to me with the same sense of triumph and accomplishment that the ancient Egyptians must have felt on completing a pyramid.

The time afforded me while the serving staff plumb the Mysteries of the Vinegar lets me contemplate our latest public transport disaster.  Everybody has heard of light rail right?  It seems to be the go to thing at the moment.  Every city from Cairo to Kuala Lumpur has got itself light rail.  Surely Sydney must have it too.  Our state and city leaders certainly thought so.  Tenders were announced, contracts were issued and the main street of Sydney's CBD has been a construction zone for yea these many months now.  It was supposed to be completed around March 2019.  The contractor has just announced that 2020 is a more plausible finishing date and by the way, can they have another billion dollars?

The state transport minister has responded with shock and astonishment thus raising the number of people in NSW who were shocked and astonished by this to a grand total of one.  I don't know how it goes elsewhere in the world but I cannot remember the last time a major infrastructure project in NSW was delivered on time, to budget and actually did what it was intended to do.  Part of the problem is that to get the contract the builder has to more or less agree to the government's timeframe and budget.  If these are unrealistic (spoiler alert, they always are) then disappointment is building up for someone further down the line.  Another part of the problem is that nobody can predict all of the problems that are going to come up and when we get to the government that phrase can be amended to "any of the problems that are going to come up".

A major cause of the delays is that the contractor keeps digging up various cables, pipes and other pieces of extraneous infrastructure.  The government doesn't appear to have plans for any of this and nobody is entirely sure what they're for but they don't dare just rip them up in case the intensive care ward at St Vincents Hospital is suddenly deprived of power.  So there has to be a wincingly careful voyage of discovery to figure out what all of this stuff does and whether its still important.  Some of it has been there for decades.  At least at the end of it someone might have a slightly better idea of how the city actually keeps going.

The government is adamant that it will not accept any delays and it won't pay any more money.  The contractor is adamant that it can't finish any quicker and without the money it can't finish at all.  Ultimately the contractor will win if only because they don't have to stand for reelection with half the city gridlocked by a paralysed construction site.  I suppose we'll get the light rail eventually, it probably won't go as far as the government originally wanted, it will cost a great deal more than intended and take longer to complete than anyone expected.  What I do know is that when the ribbon is finally cut on our three hundred metres of light rail running once or twice a day the length of a city block all of the relevant politicians will be out their crowing about its magnificence.

Meanwhile the sandwich server has finished the vinegar ritual and has presented me my roll with a face that beams with pride but also manages to be a little apprehensive.  I smile to reassure her and idly wonder if there is a way I can persuade her to let me see more of her chest tattoo than is visible through her work clothes.

Camping Amongst the Tentacles

I stared in horror at the scarred body of my Tasmanian correspondent.  Huge circular welts appeared on every exposed surface.

"You look like you've been beaten up by a dalek," I told her.

"How the hell do you know?" she responded.

I reminded her that my Belarusian tech support had installed video conferencing facilities in every room of her house and hadn't told either of us how to turn them off.  She nodded understanding and reached for some clothes while kicking something a little incriminating under the bed.

In actual fact she hadn't been beaten up by a dalek.  She had had a rather bruising encounter with a somewhat curious cephalopod.  This isn't the first time that news has come of unexpected octopus attacks in Tasmania.  Almost nobody lives on the coast anymore for fear of tentacles sweeping in from the sea to snatch unwary citizens to a watery doom.  My correspondent is possibly the first person to encounter one while camping however.

I had to admit to being a little confused.  Did she pitch her tent on it?  Did she open a water bottle and there it was?  Did she go camping at Sea World?  No, she went camping by the seaside.  I know that sounds like the plotline for an Enid Blyton story but I'm pretty sure dear Enid didn't have any stories that involved plucky young British kids being swept to a watery grave by monsters from the deep.  Although I would read such a story in a heartbeat if it existed.

The octopus, it transpires, probably wasn't trying to kill her.  It was just a little curious about the presence of a land based mammal so close to a vast expanse of salty wet stuff and had sent a tentacle or two on a fact finding mission.  My correspondent was so close to the water in a desperate attempt to evade the marauding possums that had laid waste to her campsite.  Does she know how to show her children a good time or what?  Apparently all three of them wound up cringing in a single tent while the possums trashed everything else and let forth victory bellows that startled every octopus for miles around.

She wasn't the only one either.  Apparently this location wedged between feral possums and terminally curious octopi is considered a prime camping spot, another reason why the Tasmanian population is low.  Others also reported tentacular encounters over the course of the weekend.  One man in particular was felt up by an octopus as he sat on an ocean convenient rock.

I suddenly got suspicious.

"He's the one who had the octopus encounter isn't he?"  I demanded.

"Yes," muttered my correspondent shamefaced.

"You weren't attacked by an octopus at all were you?"

"No.  But the possum story is entirely true."

"Well, that's all right.  It's still a good story and its not as if either of us is in line for a Pullitzer."

She heaved a sigh of relief and was about to sign off when something else struck me.

"Wait a minute, what were all those markings about then?"

"Mind your own business," she suggested.

I decided that was probably the safest course to follow.

The Disaster's the Same. The Causes Are Different

A week or two ago (I'm right up with current affairs) the Guardian had an article where Paul Ehrlich claimed that a shattering collapse of civilisation was a near certainty in the next few decades.  I must admit I was surprised.  Firstly because I thought Paul Ehrlich had starved to death in the global famine of the late seventies that wiped out 80% of the world's population.  I personally only survived by cannibalising the neighbour's children.  Then I remembered that Ehrlich was white and lived in America so it isn't so surprising that he survived.  Then I remembered that the entire famine thing didn't happen either, I wonder if its too late to send an apology card to the neighbours.

Paul Ehrlich garnered massive fame from a book he wrote in the late sixties called "The Population Bomb" which basically predicted a "shattering collapse of civilisation" within the next decade.  Unfortunately for those hungering for genocide by proxy the entire event failed to materialise on schedule and Ehrlich had to put up with being mocked by less intelligent, less well educated people (like me) for years afterwards. 

Still he hasn't let it slow him down.  The good thing about a failed prediction is that you can use it again next time.  There are also signs Ehrlich has learnt from his failure to be last man standing in a world of corpses.  Firstly in a belated blame spreading exercise he has acknowledged that his wife assisted in writing the book.  How she (a noted biologist in her own right) feels about being saddled with joint responsibility for this is unmentioned.  Secondly while his new predictions are as appropriately apocalyptic as ever note the language that has been used.  The shattering collapse is a "near certainty" in "the next few decades".  Unlike The Population Bomb which said (I'm paraphrasing) "Everybody is going to die on such and such a date" Ehrlich now merely says it will probably happen soonish.  There's enough wriggle room there for him to claim to be a successful prophet if the Earth gets wiped out by a meteorite hit in seventy years time and also to give himself an out when it fails to happen at all.

I'm not saying Ehrlich is wrong in his reasoning.  Frankly I doubt if he was wrong in his reasoning for The Population Bomb either.  His problem, and the reason why he wound up looking foolish, is the same one encountered by Malthus.  Essentially very intelligent people often have difficulty realising that the rest of the population aren't necessarily inert jellyfish to which events in the world merely happen.  Humanity failed to starve to death in the seventies because we decided not to.

Ehrlich's solution to our not quite inevitable doom is to make modern contraception and back up abortion available to all (although presumably targeted mainly at women) and give women full equal rights, pay and opportunities with men.  This he feels would lead to a natural drop in population over time.  It would also require a ruthless world government capable of overriding thousands of years of culture and accepted practice across most of the world and forcing obedience on all.  Such a government could only be trusted to a person like (to take an example completely at random) Paul Ehrlich.  I'm not saying he's a megalomaniacal psychopath, I'm just suggesting that he can't think of anybody else better qualified to run the planet.

It's unfair of me to single out Paul Ehrlich because he's certainly not alone.  Virtually every world saving plan seems predicated on those coming up with it having absolute dominion over the human race.  It would take a nastier and more suspicious mind than I possess to suspect that such people would actually be disappointed if we somehow manage to solve the problems without their help.  Oh wait a minute, no it wouldn't.

Here is my prediction based on nothing more than a (very) vague knowledge of history and a somewhat less vague understanding of humanity.  The problems facing us will be solved.  They won't be solved in the way that Ehrlich and other environmentalists want but solved they will be.  They will not be a final or ultimate solution, rather they are likely to cause more problems for the future that we will need to solve in their turn.  I'm also prepared to bet that Ehrlich and others like him will not be happy with the solution and will carry on predicting disaster because ultimately we won't be coming to them for the answer. 

I don't mean to diminish the contribution that Ehrlich and others have made.  If we don't realise there's a problem we're hardly likely to fix it.  The environmental movement has made a great contribution to society in the time its been around and if that contribution has been largely incidental to what they were attempting to achieve then I merely point out that this is how we deal with most of our problems.  What we shouldn't do is actually hand over the levers of power to people who seem to want them so eagerly.

I have to go now, I've just heard that my Tasmanian correspondent has spent the weekend fighting off an octopus.

Yet Another Silly After Action Report

Oberst von Kattelrussler stopped his inspection of the men's foxholes as a disturbance further down the hillside caught his attention.
"What the hell is that?" he muttered.  He looked around but von Kummerbund was nowhere to be seen.
"Damn the man, honestly why can't I get decent subordinates?"  He hastily signed off on a lice readiness report and handed it to the gefreiter.
"Where the hell is von Kummerbund and what is all the fuss about?"
"I believe a new Junior Officer has arrived sir," replied the gefreiter carefully tearing the report up and stuffing a cushion with it.  "Major von Kummerbund is greeting him."

Greeting may have been technically what von Kummerbund was doing but he had abandoned most of it in favour of simply staring in disgust.  In front of him was a short flabby man in an ill fitting uniform.  The greasy rolls of fat around his collar were not enhanced by an apparent disinclination to shave and the eyes that peered at him with indifference were yellow where they weren't bloodshot.

"Dear god," muttered von Kummerbund as Junior Officer scratched at his choppily shaven head, dislodging a partially completed cigarette from behind his ear as he did so.  "Where the hell did you come from?"
"Potsdam, I was in a mail sorting unit when the word went out that this regiment needed a Junior Officer.  Sorry, I guess I should have saluted."
"Yes, and stood to attention, and got a clean uniform, and shaved, and washed!"  Von Kummerbund was about to develop this promising line of communication further when something Junior Officer said caught his attention.  "Wait a minute.  Do you mean you volunteered?"
Junior Officer smiled revealed irregular, nicotine stained teeth.
"That's right Herr Major, eager for action that's me."  He looked like any sort of action might give him a heart attack.
"I don't know whether to be appalled or, no actually appalled is my only option.  Welcome aboard Junior Officer, I'm sure you'll fit right in. Here comes the chief."

Oberst von Kattelrussler made his way towards them chewing on his swagger stick as he dodged from bush to bush.  Junior Officer brightened up and waved enthusiastically.
"Hi Uncle Heinrich!"
Von Kattelrussler gave a horrified smile and waved back weakly.
"Right," muttered von Kummerbund, "we are all definitely going to die."

So this is our latest Poland in Flames outing. BFP 131 - Zboiska Heights.  Here I command a tough batch of gebirgsjager backed up with some impressive looking guns as they try and hold a hill against a mass of Poles who seem to be coming from all directions.  To hold the hill I have eight elite squads, four first line squads and six crews.  To back this lot up I have a 105mm gun, a 75mm gun and an 81mm mortar plus a pair of mmgs and an hmg.  I also get fourteen foxholes and a bunch of concealment counters.  Leadership, too, is good (von Kattelrussler must have had the day off) with four officers headed up by a 9-2 and a 9-1.  I also get four more elite squads as reinforcements on turn four.  Ivan gets a massive force, to the north facing a lot of open ground are eight first line and ten green squads with a 75mm artillery piece, a truck, an hmg, a mmg and three 46mm mortars.  Entering from the south on turn one are ten elite squads with some very impressive leaders, four dinky little tankettes (one mounting a thoroughly respectable 47mm gun), a pair of machine gun armed trucks and a couple of normal trucks for reasons neither of us could determine.  Oh yes, he also got some 100mm OBA.  To win Ivan had to push me off the level 3 hill hexes.

At set up.  North is to the right

I must confess I didn't like my chances on this one.  I could see myself being crushed between two fires.  I decided that the west (top) would be my main defensive position thus hopefully covering my reinforcement route (they came in on the west edge).  Down in the east I had a squad and a half with an lmg and a bunch of dummies to pretend I had a defence.  In the west I had four elite squads, nestled in foxholes with a squad and lmg commanded by my 9-2 leading the defence.  Facing north I had a crew with my hmg in the centre (guided by the 9-1) with a couple of other squads nearby.  Behind my main line in the west I had a mmg crew and the 81mm mortar team sitting in foxholes with a clear line of sight to the open ground Ivan's northern troops would have to run over.  The other two guns I placed facing south hoping I might be able to get some armour kills as his guys rolled on.

Things were pretty quiet in the north.  Ivan inched his troops forward pretty much unseen by my boys while he brought his (perfectly accurate) artillery down on my hmg position.  One of my squads nearby broke but my hmg team would sit cheerfully under the steel rain without consequences despite Ivan adding his 75mm to the firepower against them.

It was in the south that the action started at a frantic pace. Ivan brought on a pair of tanks and both gun trucks along the west edge supporting a trio of squads toting an mmg and led by a fearsome 9-2.  I couldn't do much about the the tanks but small arms fire took out one of the trucks and the other parked to return fire while the tanks attempted a little flanking.  One of them rolled up onto a hill in line of sight of my lmg team and was promptly set on fire.  It's fair to say I was quite happy with the way the first turn went.  His infantry eased slowly forward and a pair of tanks rolled on in the east as well.

End turn 1.  First blood to me while Ivan's northern troops are still slogging towards the battlefield

In the centre Ivan brought on two trucks laded (two squads apiece) with infantry.  Unfortunately he brought them on directly in the line of sight of my 105mm gun which promptly vapourised a truck and two squads.  Its fair to say this slowed Ivan's progress in the south centre as his other truck promptly stamped on the brakes and told the infantry to find their own way forward.  In the west a probing squad by Ivan was broken but the remainder of his troops there bulked formidable.  In the north he crawled forwards and the artillery continued to hammer me without much result.  Aside from that there was little to report.  In the east his green troops limped slowly towards what (had he but known it) was a very sketchy defence.

Thanks to my 105mm Ivan's tanks in the east are looking a little lonely

In the face of a killer stack three squads strong I pulled back a squad in the west from its defensive position.  My intention was to send it over the hill to take a reverse slope (from the south) position but Ivan followed me into the orchard.  This allowed me to reveal my 75mm to take a shot at this massive kill stack.  I gacked the shot and the kill stack lived up to its name by killing the 75s gun crew.  One of my most potent weapons gone.  I wept and cursed of course but in actual fact that moment was the worst in the game for me.  After that it rapidly unravelled for Ivan.  He spread his three squad kill stack in the east out to deal with my squad that was dancing around above him "protected" by orchards.  These heroes then broke two of said squads and pinned his 9-2 leader.  To add insult to injury he boxcarred one of the morale checks and an elite squad was suddenly a broken first line halfsquad.  In the south centre he pushed forward against limited resistance but I managed to break another squad as it took the risk of dashing across a road.

Ivan's northern force is getting killed

The remnants of that centre force managed to break the mmg team supposedly defending the 75 and captured that position but they didn't have anywhere to go where they wouldn't be exposed to fire from my remaining troops.  His remaining tank in the west rolled up to my mmg post and the two of them spent the rest of the game firing on each other without effect.  When he attempted to start up his remaining truck small arms fire took care of that as well.

Which just leaves the north.  With a couple of squads, my 81mm mortar and my hmg all still operating I quite literally slaughtered Ivan's force trying to come across a hill bare of cover.  The only unit that got close to me was one that went berserk on a morale check.  Literally everything else broke and then died.  Far down in the east his green troops had suffered their own casualties but had finally butted up against my less than magnificent defence.  It didn't really matter, they had neither the movement or the numbers to break through.  Ivan conceded on turn four before my reinforcements arrived.  His southern infantry was chopped into two mutually unsupporting groups both under pressure, the bulk of his northern infantry were dead and he had lost a tank and two gun trucks in addition to shocking infantry losses.  I held the west solidly and my reinforcements were due.  There was no point beyond simple masochism in continuing.

The end.  Some gains in the east (bottom) can't compensate for Ivan's appalling casualties elsewhere

Strangely both Ivan and I approached this game with trepidation.  I looked at the sheer number of Polish troops and the fact that they hit me from two sides and felt like the meat in a sandwich.  Ivan looked at the vast amount of open ground to the north and the cluttered terrain in the south which restricted his tank options and felt under pressure as well.  With this over we've decided to take a break from Poland in Flames for a while.  We feel like we need a bit of a change.  For some reason Ivan has decided to pander to my Italian fetish so for our next game I'm digging out the rather ancient Showdown at Tug Argan Pass.

Major von Kummerbund stared at the road where a yawning crater adorned with a single tire marked where a truck had briefly been.  Junior Officer had produced a couple of cans of beer from somewhere and was drinking with the gefreiter in the shadow of a 105mm gun.

"Junior Officer," said von Kummerbund faintly, "where did you get the 105 from?"

Junior Officer belched, "Oh I won it in a game of skat from some artillery boys behind the line.  It was nice of them to set it up for us though."

Von Kummerbund stared at Junior Officer with suspicion,

"You're the smart one in your family, aren't you?"

Junior Officer grinned, "My aunt engineered my transfer so that I could keep an eye on uncle Heinrich, he can get a little excitable."

"Believe me, we've noticed."

Silly After Action Report

"Junior Officer!  Junior Officer!!"  Oberst von Kattelrussler stared around in irritation.  "Damn the man, what's happened to him?"  A familiar figure failed to evade his line of vision, "Ah von Kummerbund.  Where the hell is Junior Officer?  I need a sample of his lung tissue."

Major von Kummerbund looked at the long handled, none too clean tongs his commander was holding and decided not to ask.  Instead he controlled his temper as best he could.

"Junior Officer, sir, died like a hero fighting incredible odds while you were wrestling a beech tree."

"Oh yes, that's right.  So, I guess no lung tissue then.  Wait a minute what about his replacement?"

"We don't have one yet sir.  Do you remember that massive burst of firing that broke out all along the line the other day?  We all thought it was another Polish counterattack."

"What about it?" demanded von Kattelrussler.

"It turns out it was every junior officer in the army shooting themselves in the foot to avoid being posted here."

Von Kattelrussler thought for a moment, scratching his head with the tongs.

"I know, take out an ad in the local paper.  Junior Officer required for elite army regiment.  Applicants must be young, fit and prepared to travel.  Loyalty to the Greater German Reich preferred.  Healthy lungs essential.  Oh and point out that the German army is an unequal opportunity employer."

"I'm sure that will go down well in the Warsaw Gazette.  Getting back to the war for just a moment sir do you happen to know what our next assignment is?"

Von Kattelrussler wasn't listening, he was staring at something over von Kummerbund's left shoulder.  Pointing he asked,  "What on earth is that?"

Von Kummerbund turned, "It appears to be an entire Polish armoured regiment charging in this direction."

"Well carry on von Kummerbund.  I'll pop back to the rear area and see if there's any news."

This is ASL Scenario BFP 130 which involves a scratch bunch of Germans defending against a Polish counterattack supported by a large but rather eclectic bunch of armour.  Ivan "the Bane of Neil's existence" Kent will command the defending Germans while I shall attempt to lead this Polish Panzerkeil to victory.

To achieve this no doubt inevitable victory I have fourteen first line infantry squads guided by three officers with a trio of medium machine guns and an anti tank rifle for no other reason than because I think the scenario designer has an unhealthy obsession with them.  Providing mechanical noises are nine armoured fighting vehicles of various types.  A pair of dinky little TKS tanks with a trivial machine gun, a couple of decrepit armoured cars, one of those awesome tanks carrying a pair of hmgs in twin turrets and four pretty decent tanks mounting 37 and 47mm guns.  Still its a pretty heterogeneous bunch and it would take skill to use them properly.

To defend Ivan starts out with eight first line squads, a pair of leaders, a 75mm gun, a medium machine gun and (with more than usual relevance) an anti tank rifle.  Starting on turn three Ivan can bring on his reinforcements, four more first line squads, two more officers and three half tracks each towing a gun; two 47mm AT guns (don't laugh, they're genuine tank killers at this stage of the war) and an 88mm AA gun which seems just a little over the top.

This is the set up.  I have to push through the Germans, get across the creek and capture the buildings on the other side.  I had a plan which I really should have stuck to.  I kept back my best tanks and set up the two little TKS clunkers at the top.  The plan was to use these to plunge through the trees and create trail breaks for the remaining armour to follow.  The bulk of my infantry (shepherded by an armoured car and another tank) would come through the centre and hit the German defences while a single tank and a handful of troops would keep Ivan busy in the bottom.

Things went well (harbinger of doom).  The two TKSs rolled forwards and obediently created the required trail breaks while the bulk of my infantry pushed forward in the centre.  Ivan revealed a squad with the anti tank rifle in the woods but the TKS are so damn small its difficult to hit them.  Sadly I was seduced by ephemeral success at the bottom.  My tank rolled forward and I took some risks with my infantry and concluded (correctly) that his defences down there were largely dummies.

So far, so good.

This seemed to be an opening and I changed my plans and decided to bring my remaining tanks down along the bottom and plough through the stream.  I had fond dreams of establishing my tanks near the victory buildings before Ivan could either retreat his main force or bring on his reinforcements.  Of course Ivan had anticipated this and had placed his 75mm gun to cover this approach.  He actually let my lead tank splash through the stream and roll up next to the gun before revealing himself to hit the more formidable tanks coming behind.  I still wasn't terribly worried, I had three tanks in position and he had one gun.  I might lose a tank but I figured I could take out the gun and then the way would be cleared.  Ivan took out two tanks in the first fire phase (honestly does he ever get punished for intensive fire?) and suddenly I had precisely one tank left parked right next to his gun.

Things are about to go to hell down the bottom.  Meanwhile despite armoured support my infantry are getting nowhere

Over in the village my infantry were making heavy weather of getting forward due to the fact that I was finding it difficult to hurt his infantry inside the stone buildings.  Suddenly bereft of a role my little TKS tanks decided to at least put the fear of god into Ivan.  I rolled them round behind his defences.  At first I just intended to block rout paths but then I realised I could at least get these guys into back play and threaten his reinforcements so they charged boldly across the river into the orchard.

Ivan's gun towing halftracks have arrived but my TKS tanks will be coming to meet them

Meanwhile Ivan had simply ignored the tank sitting next to his gun and had turned it around to shoot into the rear of my armour still attempting to help my infantry into the village.  I had rolled a tank into bypass on a building hex to lock up the troops there.  Ivan promptly immobilised it with the 75 but the crew stayed in and I finally managed to get some troops up close and personal.  I think I fumbled the infantry moves a bit but I finally accumulated a decent amount of firepower and was systematically dismantling his garrison.  I was also systematically dismantling medium machine guns.  I managed to malf and then break two of my three in successive fire and rally phases.  Just for the record while Ivan's 75mm was tearing my tank force apart the tank sitting next to him was blasting away at him for all he was worth, he just wasn't getting any results.

Things seem to have slowed down a little

Ivan brought on his troops and half tracks and my reception committee proved incapable of stopping them from getting where they needed to go.  He sent the two 47mm guns down the bottom of the board and looped the 88mm up around the top to cover the bridge.  His infantry reinforcements ignored my pathetic 2FP shots from the TKS and made it to the victory buildings.  But one of my TKS was about to cover itself in glory.  In a manner of speaking.

Things look good, briefly

Still I was grinding slowly forward in the village backed by remaining armour (one tank and two armoured cars) and finally I managed to break the crew of his damn 75mm thus releasing my tank down there to charge for the victory locations.  Sadly it was a turn too late.  Ivan had positioned a 47mm gun to guard the approaches and when a snake eyes shot killed the crew he promptly moved the other 47mm into the same location.  I had plans, however, for the 88.  Relying on the difficulty in hitting the little TKS I rolled the pair of them around behind the 88.  Or rather I rolled one of them because despite the difficulty in hitting them Ivan managed to take one of them out with an anti tank rifle immediately.  The other trundled up to his 88 and overran it.  For no result.  Ivan then fired from within his own hex and reduced the TKS to flaming scrap.  Which meant that the 88 would now be firing out of smoke for the rest of the scenario.  Posthumous decorations are already in the mail to family members of the crew.

I started feeling hopeful again.  I had pretty much cleared the garrison and surely I had enough armour left to shepherd my infantry across the bridge and into the victory buildings.  Sadly that evil bitch close combat was about to ruin my hopes.  I looked to clear out his remaining troops by overwhelming them with superior numbers in close combat.  You know how this goes.  He managed to slaughter a bunch of my troops with a mere handful of his.  The absolute prize going to the officer who took out a half squad single handed and suddenly I was thin on the ground and running out of time.

I'm in position or would be if it wasn't for the CC

Fresh from its overly prolonged struggle with the 75mm my tank rolled up to his 47mm gun and was reduced to scrap (in fairness there was little else I could do, in honesty I had forgotten the damn thing was there).  Still it provided me with a little cover and I rolled my machine gun tank across the bridge to give a little more protection.  So Ivan's 88 fired out of smoke and killed it.  Nevertheless I was getting a decent amount of steel protection for my advance.  Sadly interminable close combats had eaten up the time to the point where I couldn't take a cautious approach.  To be blunt I simply charged forward.  It didn't really need Ivan's predilection for rolling threes when he needs them to turn my surge into a bloody mess but by that time it was little more than a forlorn hope anyway.  When his 88 managed to get a critical hit on one of my squads despite firing out of smoke I took the hint and conceded.

Underneath the acquisition counter and in the stream is a mess of shattered troops that mark the end of my dreams

I made a couple of mistakes in this one (although strangely I don't think overrunning an 88 with a TKS was one of them).  I should have stuck to my original plan which might have put a formidable amount of armour in the rear area.  Even so I think this is rather tough on the Poles.  They have a fair way to go and quite a bit of opposition to overcome.  Next week I'm taking the Germans who are defending against another Polish attack.  I'm honestly starting to think Poland invaded Germany.

Major von Kummerbund watched as the remnants of the Polish force limped off the battlefield.  A smoke grimed gefreiter (let's face it the regiment only has one) limped up to him and saluted.

"They're pulling back sir."

"Excellent, where's the oberst?"

Wordlessly the gefreiter pointed to where a Polish tank was burning furiously, strangely there was an AA gun positioned directly underneath it.  Oberst von Kattelrussler stumbled out of the smoke in a badly charred uniform.  Strangely losing his eyebrows hadn't made him look any more unusual.

"Bit of luck my running into these guns while I was inspecting the supply lines wasn't it?" he said cheerily.  Behind him the crew of the AA gun had abandoned their position and were attempting to put out the flames on their uniforms. 

"Yes sir," replied von Kummerbund evenly.  "And may I commend you on their positioning."  As if the emphasise his point there was a dull roar as flames reached the ammunition stacked around the AA gun.

Von Kattelrussler blinked, "Oh dear, I hope they didn't want that back."