Silly After Action Report - Cut the Road to Marseilles

The Stuart tank lurched to a halt on a dusty French road next to a pair of farmers who were unenthusiastically shovelling dirt from one hole into another.  The hatch banged open and Sous lieutenant Raoul Outlebarrel emerged, his uniform gleaming in the sun.  He struck a heroic pose on the chassis of the tank which was marred only slightly when his heel slipped and deposited him into the dust at the side of the road.

"Shit," he muttered, "I mean merde!"  He picked himself up and looked around to see if anyone had noticed.  One of the farmers ignored him completed, continuing to poke at the earth with his shovel.  The other regarded him with a look best described as "impolite disinterest".

Brushing himself down Outlebarrel resumed his heroic pose somewhat closer to ground level and addressed his fellow countrymen.

"Rejoice brave farmers of France.  You have been liberated from the ruthless tyrant!"

"Oh so you've met my wife," replied the first farmer.

"Er, no I meant the Germans."

"Oh them, and who are you exactly?"

"I am a Free French soldier," replied Outlebarrel proudly.  A flicker of embarrassment crossed his features.  

"Forgive me but can you tell me where to find the road to Marseilles?"

"Lost are you?"

Outlebarrel squirmed, "I wouldn't say lost exactly.  I am home in beautiful France."

"Oh good, that's helpful.  For your information Marseilles is down at the bottom."

The farmer took pity.  He pointed at the ribbon of tarmac that stretched to the horizon.

"This is the road to Marseilles.  It's in that direction.  You'd better get a move on, it won't liberate itself."

With a word of thanks Outlebarrel scrambled back into the tank which lurched forward covering the two farmers in dust.  The second farmer spat and turned to his companion.

"You didn't mention there's a whole bunch of Germans in the way."

"He didn't ask," replied the first with a shrug.

"Who was he again?"

"He said he was Free French."

"Seems fair, I can't imagine anybody paying for him."

 Dave Wilson and I chose the Provence Pack partly because the scenarios looked interesting but mainly because we're cheap and the scenarios are free.  The first scenario is PP1 - Cut the Road to Marseilles.  This pits a not particularly good bunch of Free French infantry backed up by half the Stuart tanks in creation attempting to drive some disturbingly capable Germans out a group of buildings.  This will in some way "cut the road to Marseilles".

I shall command the Free (or at least heavily discounted) French of the 3rd Algerian Tirailleur Regiment as they attempt to push the Germans out.  For this pushing I have eight squads of infantry divided equally between first and second line troops plus a commando detachment consisting of a single 648 squad and a partisan 337.  The commandos are commanded by their own bespoke 9-2, leadership for the remainder is somewhat more mediocre.  Support weapons are present in the form of a single mmg, a single bazooka and a single 60mm mortar.  But then there is the armour, hoo boy do we have armour.  Four armoured halftracks (two of them inconveniently unarmed) are waiting to cart my bold tirailleurs to the battlefield.  Supporting them are no fewer than five Stuart tanks.  Lest this seem insufficient turn four sees the arrival of two more Stuarts under a 9-2 armour leader (historically this reinforcement was to assist the tirailleurs to flee from what was rapidly becoming a military debacle but surely that won't happen this time...).

Proudly standing on the wrong side of history Dave commands the landsers of the 242 infantry division.  Given that by this time southern France was a dumping ground for the most unemployable fragments the wehrmacht could produce their quality is almost suspiciously good.  He has twelve squads, half first line, half second.  No armour for these boys but they do have four medium machine guns, two heavy machine guns and no fewer than three 81mm mortars.  They also have twenty four concealment markers.  By SSR the support weapons can't set up manned.  Further more all German troops are under a TI marker until one of them has a line of sight to a known enemy unit.  However they can set up in the same hex as the support weapons and if their opponent is stupid enough to set up in their line of sight (ahem) they'll be able to grab them immediately.

To win the Germans must control at least four buildings within three hexes of 17R4 at the game end.  They can also win immediately by taking out five Free French AFV.  My job therefore was to throw the Germans out of stone buildings with an inferior force while also doing my best to keep my force multiplier safe from the fighting.

I have to admit I didn't like my chances.  Eight squads, half of them second line didn't seem like much of a force to be pushing a dozen Germans out of stone buildings even with tank support.  I came up with a high risk (hopefully) high reward strategy.  Either things would go well or the game would end on turn one.  I was fully prepared for option B.

At start

Above is our at start set up.  You will see that I eschewed hiding the partisan squad somewhere the Germans couldn't see it.  That meant Dave could grab his support weapons immediately but I thought it was necessary as I wanted to get things happening quickly.  The partisans and commandos would plough through what were hopefully dummies and grab the small building between the two woods.  Two of my tanks and four squads mounted in halftracks would swing around to the north, unload directly in front of the units in the wood and, assuming they survived jump into close combat immediately.  I hoped to clear a passage south towards the victory buildings.  The remainder of my infantry would sneak forward to the small patch of woods directly to the east of the victory buildings supported by the remaining tanks and hopefully I would catch the defenders between two fires.

It didn't quite work like that although it probably came closer than I deserved.  My halftrack boys did indeed dismount directly in front of his defenders, survived all defensive fire and plunged into close combat but despite 2:1 odds (Dave had scattered halfsquads across the north) couldn't clear them out in the first turn.  My partisan squad did manage to clear out some dummies but got broken in the process (not by the dummies obviously) and my 9-2, commando squad combo assault moved next to the obviously real occupants of the building.  A morale check from an mmg was sufficient to sent the 9-2 yelping for the rear of course but the commandos stayed strong and plunged into close combat where they were promptly ambushed and the defenders withdrew.

End of French turn 1

Things went a bit not good after that.  Although not in the area I was expecting.  My flankers did indeed dispose of his northern shield in CC just a little later than expected and soon four squads, plus tanks and halftracks were pounding south towards the enemy.  The enemy had been occupying his time carving up my eastern troops for dogmeat.  Trees and concealment counters were of no avail and virtually the entire force was shivering in the rear waiting for their officers to recover from their crying jags and rally them.  Still I had my tanks and with them I started to "encircle" the defenders.  Does it really count as an encirclement when the defenders can simply shoot the encirclers to pieces?  I also broke the MA on a Stuart.  My sniper too paid the ultimate price but since the alternative was a squad or a leader I was quite ok with that.

The scenario is developing in a manner not necessarily to my advantage

I thought I had lost it on the first turn but somehow stumbled through to turn two.  With half my infantry down and the remainder some way from the victory locations there was only one thing to do; be suicidally reckless with my armour and hope for the best.  This worked right up to the point where it didn't.  In the north my Stuarts rolled forward and sprayed the occupants of the nearby buildings with canister.  Just to prove that lousy morale checks weren't the sole preserve of 9-2s all of Dave's defenders went down.  If I could get some troops there I had a way in.

I pushed forward with my halftracks (bad move that) and actually broke  mortar crew with machine gun fire.  My own mortar team incidentally had been slowly dragging its ridiculously heavy weapon forward but its time was about to come.

It seems nobody on either side can buy a morale check

 In the south a Stuart had swung around and had been taking largely impotent potshots at the occupants of a building.  It was blown to pieces by an 81mm mortar shell.  Strangely I didn't take the hint.  With my eastern dwellers now largely rallied (except for one squad which would remain disrupted to the end) and my tanks swarming (apart from the destroyed one) I started pushing forward.

Armour losses are mounting

Using tanks and half tracks to sleaze defenders and provide a modicum of cover I grabbed the northern buildings and forced my way into a couple of others.  Dave's defences were crumbling and the victory buildings were in my sight.  Unfortunately what was in Dave's sight was my armour.  Another tank fell to a mortar and then a third.  Dave's infantry was buckling under the impact of my bold tirailleurs but their armoured support was looking distinctly dusty.  By the end of turn three I had the buildings I needed and my 60mm mortar had justified its existence with a critical hit on one of his mortars.

Sadly it was to no avail.  With four AFV down Dave only needed to take out one more for the automatic win.  My turn four consisted of frenzied efforts to move my vehicles out of line of sight.  Unfortunately I wasn't successful and a mortar blew a halftrack to scrap to meet the five AFV limit and an automatic win for Dave.

Five AFV down and that's a wrap

 This scenario was much more fun than I really expected.  Although I wonder how much excitement there is for the German player who essentially has to sit where he is and hope his rolls come good.  I'm not even too disappointed with my tactics (a couple of glaring exceptions notwithstanding). Although I have to admit I underestimated the ability of the German mortars to kill armour, especially the open topped halftracks and that ultimately was what lost me the game.  Much thanks to Dave for the game.  Next time we're trying the next scenario in the pack, Supply Detail.

Sous lieutenant Outlebarrel stumbled from the trees brushing bits of halftrack out of his hair.  Most of the tirailleurs were already some distance ahead of him fleeing the wrong way along the road to Marseilles.  

"Come back," he yelled, as much for the look of it as anything else.  He certainly had no intention of returning to the battlefield.  "We must launch a counterattack," he shouted just in case a senior officer was listening.  Ammunition from a burning tank started cooking off behind him.  "Tomorrow," he hastily amended.  "We must launch a counterattack tomorrow."

The two French farmers looked at the pillars of smoke rising from beyond the trees.

"Feeling liberated yet?" asked the first.

"Yes," replied the second, "but that's because I've loosened my truss."

There's not a Lot Going on in Tasmania

 I haven't really reached out to my Tasmanian correspondent in recent weeks.  Ever since our road trip and the associated "unpleasantness" I thought I had better leave her to calm down for a while.  As to the unpleasantness itself, my lips are sealed.  All I will say is that it involved an unlocked door, some "special" clothing I own and a box of kumquats.  However, since this blog long passed the point where I can sustain it with my own creativity I forced myself to make the connection.  Fortunately she appeared to be prepared to let bygones be bygones and greeted me in her usual style.

"What the hell do you want you depraved freak?"

I mentioned that the whole point of being a correspondent is that she's supposed to correspond every so often but it turned out she had good reason for her silence.  Her palms were covered in fungus.  I made the appropriate sympathetic noises and offered to send her some penicillin.  I have a large store of this since I physically can't consume all of the medications my tech support press on me.  Besides some of them claw their way out of the boxes and escape.

At some point during the obscenity riddled rant that followed I did glean the fact that she was referring to her house plants and not, as I had first thought, an unfortunate medical condition.  Although I guess its pretty unfortunate for the palms.  My tech support who were listening in suggested scouring the palms with acid.  When I pointed out that we were talking about plants they retracted their advice and subsided into silence.

In fact my correspondent is doing the lowgrade, domestic version of scouring them with acid.  She's spraying them with apple cider vinegar.  If nothing else they should be delicious by the time the fungus kills them off.  With the diseased plant situation safely under control my correspondent unbent sufficiently to provide me with the latest information from her little patch of Tasmania.

One of her fish is continually faking its death.  As alert readers of this blog will be aware fish don't generally need to fake their death once they enter the care of my correspondent.  However the unexpected survival of quite a few of the fish she possesses has prompted every friend, relative and random stranger with an unwanted piscine to dump them on her and then flee the state.  The result of which is that her home is starting to resemble a low rent aquarium with fungus riddled palms.

The child who presented the fish in question warned my correspondent that it was a drama queen.  My correspondent replied with the kindly warmth adults use to hide their contempt when children say something particularly stupid and ignored it.  The next day the fish was floating belly up in the fish tank.  With a weary sigh (and no doubt a sense of deja vu) my correspondent went off to fetch a net to snag the floating corpse and return it to the sea via the sewage system.  On her return said fish was happily swimming around down at the bottom of the tank.  It has done this several times now and it has got to the point where when the thing finally dies my correspondent is likely to leave it floating in the tank for a month out of sheer skepticism.

With diseased palms and semi dead fish removed as talking points my correspondent turned instead to the lockdown I am currently suffering under with great glee.  Apparently my being locked down is something she feels is long overdue.  When I pointed out that the entire of Greater Sydney was locked down as well she thought that was a little unfair but worth it if it stopped me leaving the house.

Plague Update #52 - We're All Saved, Again

 Hurray!  Australia is saved!  Our prime minister recently announced a "new deal" which will enable us to deal with COVID, put it behind us and get on with our lives.  Apparently it involves vaccinations and dangling carrots like permitting people who have been vaccinated (roll on September) to indulge in the heady fruits of freedom that may be denied to the infectious herd.  Oh, and the number of people allowed into the country is going to be restricted.  I'm not saying this is unwelcome but it does rather raise the question of what the hell was the "old deal" and why did we stick with it for so long.  I'm also a little confused about the "allowed into the country" thing.  I didn't realise anybody was still traveling.  Except for our prime minister of course who went overseas for the G7 summit and has spent the last two weeks personal quarantine himself as a result.  Given what happened in that time being plausibly absent from the centre of responsibility probably isn't a heart breaker for him.

And, apparently people are still traveling.  For starters there are, apparently, still Australians stuck overseas trying to get home.  How much of our population was overseas for goodness sake?  This pandemic has been going on for over a year now, even with entry restricted to the numbers we can quarantine at any one time how can there possibly still be anyone left overseas?

Celebration of the country's new golden path away from lockdown hell was muted due to the fact that a large proportion of the country is currently in lockdown.  NSW Health (in light of the circumstances they may wish to change that name) has put out a list of locations that require testing and/or self isolation.  It will soon be easier simply to name the venues that haven't had an exposure.  

In an interview over the weekend a government minister announced that he is confident that plenty of doses of Pfizer vaccine are on their way.  Or to put it another way he announced that plenty of Pfizer doses aren't actually in the country.  This is not entirely surprising.  One of the disadvantages with living on an island a long way from the parts of the world that actually make things is that there tends to be a bit of a delay before said things turn up.

There have been dark mutterings about the media's role in spreading disinformation and alarm about the vaccines which in my mind is somewhat unfair.  What the media does is report stories that they think will receive attention in order to generate revenues for their owners.  The way to deal with that is to get in front of such stories and present a coherent narrative that will hold steady despite the occasional blip.  And I can literally feel every politician in the country staring at me in complete incomprehension.  Politicians tend to undertake actions based on reports in the media.  The concept of generating reports in the media as a result of their actions isn't something that comes naturally to them (except in a negative sense when they get caught in a public toilet with a fistful of party drugs and a wallaby in a negligee).  

Just on that topic, over in North Korea a number of senior ranking party officials have been sacked for what was referred to as "neglecting their duties in fighting the global health crisis".  Its a little disturbing that apparently North Korea can teach us lessons on ministerial responsibility.

Silly After Action Report - El Hemeimat Ridge

 It takes a certain type of mentality to jump out of a perfectly functional aircraft.  One needs courage, determination and a deep desire to avoid having to pay duty on that second bottle of alcohol you brought onto the plane.  The soldiers of the Folgore paracadutisti division were such men.  Hard eyed, lean sinewed, tight fisted.  Trained in the finest customs avoidance techniques by the German Wehrmacht these Italians were a battle hungry elite prepared to hurl themselves into combat from the skies.  The Italian high command took one look at them and sent them to occupy foxholes in the desert.  Given the quality of their weapons it wasn't so much "death from above" and more like "the possibility of injury from round about knee level".

I plundered LFT's offering on Italians to come up with this one for Dave Wilson and me to play. Scenario FT238 El Hemeimat Ridge.  I, of course, shall command the Italians.  And what Italians!  Such Italians haven't been seen since the days of the Roman legions.  447 elite squads are not enough for these boys, they insist they are 448s with no lower broken morale and a +0 on their HOB die roll.  I was lightheaded with delirium at the thought of commanding such troops (also delirious was VASL which couldn't handle the concept at all so we had to make do with 447s which we had to remember were Italian supermen).

I have eight of these battle happy bullet magnets plus three equally steroid pumped crews to man a 47mm gun, a 20mm AA gun and a hmg.  Here reality intervened because the support weapons were the usual collection of malfunction happy Italian rubbish.  There was also a medium machine gun, a light machine gun and a heavy antitank rifle.  Three more than usually inspiring Italian officers commanded this small but doughty force.  To shelter them from the hail of fire soon to be heading in their direction were four sangars, six trenches and a pillbox.  Eighteen minefield factors and twelve dummies added to the confusion.  On turn four, should I survive that long reinforcements would arrive in the form of another seven squads, a pair of officers, two more light machine guns and (trying to show they're making a contribution) three German armoured cars.  My job was to defend the ridge identified in the scenario title.  The Italians win at game end if at least four squads (or AFV) are on level 3 hill hexes.

Preparing to sweep the ridge of Italian life and gain revenge for the capture of Menton are Dave's Free French.  It isn't the only the Italians who are elite in this one.  To take on the Folgore the Allies have sent in the Legion.  Dave has nineteen squads thirteen of which are elite and two of which are elite elite sappers.  Five officers including a pair of 9-1s lead the legionnaires forward.  They have two medium machine guns, four light machine guns (although two are of inferior French design) and three antitank rifles plus a demolition charge.  Supporting the human material are a British 76mm mortar, two French Conus armoured trucks toting 75mm artillery pieces (smoke, for the purposes of) and a solitary bren gun carrier which must have been sitting around some British headquarters when a light fingered legion detachment wandered by.  There would be a LV hindrance for the first three turns to simulate the dawn's early light (or, more accurately, the dawn's early dark) to give the intrepid legionnaires some cover as they crossed the open desert to the Italian positions.

Below is my at start set up.  On the left my line would be anchored by the 20mm, in the centre by the 47mm and on the right by the mmg guided by a 9-1 leader.  My hmg would set up in the pillbox behind the ridgeline to deal with any legionnaires who survived the no doubt vicious battle for the forward positions.  I was mindful that both his gun trucks and his mortar had generous quantities of smoke and the hope was that by spreading out not all of the defenders would be blinded.

 

Well to be fair not all the defenders were blinded.  Still no fewer than three smoke rounds blocked the lines of sight and air passages of my troops but in return one of his gun trucks would run out of smoke and break its MA into the bargain.  Shrouded by smoke and the dim light the legionnaires began their advance.

End of Allied turn 1

It wasn't long before both Dave and I started to have serious concerns about the quality of our so called "elite" troops.  Despite having morale of at least seven (and usually eight) Dave's troops proved spectacularly disinclined to pass morale checks.  The only reason why this wasn't a serious issue for him was because my Folgore proved to be incapable of hitting the side of a barn.  In a direct mirror image of this my troops rolled low on morale checks but Dave rolled even lower on fire shots with the result that my troops failed a number of 1 & 2MC checks with what were decent rolls.  If nothing else this added to the tension as for the first three or four turns both of us was convinced that the other was winning handsomely.  Despite the apparent hesitation of his troops Dave's forces moved forward in the teeth of wildly inaccurate Italian fire and reached the base of the ridge.  Victory would lie at the top.

For the first couple of turns the prize jewel in the Italian armoury was its sniper.  While the Folgore were apparently firing up into the air and shooting their own feet off (it takes skill to do both simultaneously) my sniper went on a one man vendetta against Dave's supporting firepower.  He started by breaking the mortar crew and went on to force the recall of both gun trucks before reluctantly redirecting his attention to an inoffensive 8-0 whom he first wounded and then (in a clear violation of the Geneva Convention) shot dead while he was having his wounds treated.  The mortar crew would rally but at least some sources of smoke were lost to Dave.

And this was good because my forward defenders had been swept away in a hail of advancing fire (which among other things generated the sniper shots) and Dave's gallant legionnaires started climbing the ridge.

The French are coming

As can be seen from the picture above Dave is threatening on both flanks and is advancing towards the heart of my resistance.  The centre, for the moment, holds firm simply because Dave hasn't managed to get anyone near it.  In point of fact it was the terrain which was Dave's principal enemy at this point.  This ridge line is an absolute bitch to try and climb and isn't helped when you have a bunch of guys who are shooting (however inaccurately) at you every step of the way.  Dave's situation wasn't helped by the fact that on the rare occasions that my Folgore shot straight his troops would invariably break.

Dave got himself into a handy position on both flanks but had difficulties effectively exploiting it as my remaining troops held their ground sternly.  In the centre his forces slowly scrabbled their way up wadis and through crags to reach positions from where my defenders, still shrouded in smoke thanks to his rejuvenated mortar, could actually shoot at them.

The battle for the ridge begins

Things hung in the balance like this for a couple of turns as Dave struggled to turn his initial gains into a decisive advantage and I clung on by my eyelids and looked anxiously for my reinforcements.  And I needed those reinforcements.  The Italians need four squads on level three hill hexes and thanks to the casualties so far I simply no longer had them but every one of my remaining units that survived made the reinforcements job easier.

The decisive moment really came when Dave succeeded in turning the left.  I should perhaps have put a little more force there to start with and breaking the 20mm gun didn't help matters much although since the crew died shortly afterwards perhaps it didn't have too much of an effect either.  On the centre right I was holding firm thanks to the heroic actions of an mmg team under the direction of a 9-1.  These guys dominated their little patch of the battlefield and, when Dave finally got troops into their location, cheerfully picked up bayonets and dispatched the intruders before going back to shooting.

Things are not going well.  Frankly that should be my battlecry

Which was good because my 47mm gun in the centre proved to be a distinct disappointment.  It's crew got off one shot before a WP round terrified them so much that they lost interest in proceedings for a good while.  To add insult to injury Dave would eventually capture the gun and use it to destroy a German armoured car.  Still the terrain was hampering Dave's attempts to close up on the ridge and on the right my mmg team ruled the battlefield.  About my hmg team in the pillbox not much can be said.  When the legionnaires poked their heads above the skyline they opened fire and were swiftly broken.  Once they recovered they celebrated by breaking their own weapon.  Apparently more concerned about the threat they posed than their performance to date would justify Dave drove his carrier into the hex and parked it preventing them from firing out.  This allowed my hmg team to do the only useful thing they did all day.  Sallying forth in CC they tore the tracks off the carrier and beat the inherent crew to death with them.  It has to be said that CC was the Italians friend in this scenario.

As my reinforcements waited in the wings rehearsing their lines and overcoming stage fright things weren't going well on stage.  I did have four squads on level three hexes unfortunately two of them were prisoners of the French and another was broken.  But Dave had his problems too.  His forces on the left were in good positions but were not numerous enough to truly interdict my reinforcements.  In the centre another squad had died in CC and a squad that went berserk was shot to pieces approaching the Italian positions.  My mmg crew held the right.  If stasis could be maintained for another couple of turns the reinforcements would be in position and there might be a chance for me to pull off a win.

An now my reinforcements had arrived!  Racing forward under the dubious protection of the armoured cars they panted towards the battlefield.  Unfortunately one of said armoured cars rolled past a hammada hex and tore its own wheels off.  That left two.  Up on the ridge Dave had finally managed to capture the 47mm gun which proved itself far more capable in the hands of its new owners and killed another armoured car.  Still the infantry was pushing forward and the remaining armoured car was mounting the hill (I apologise for any disturbing visuals the preceding sentence may have produced).

I still have faint hopes

Unfortunately stasis couldn't be maintained.  I had so few troops left on the ridge that any poor roll would lead to complete disaster.  A fanatic Italian squad in a trench failed a lowly NMC and suddenly I was virtually out of defenders with my reinforcements just barely setting foot on the other side of the ridge.  I was also almost out of time which led to me rushing my reinforcements forward and paying the price.  I conceded in turn six with the bulk of the ridge in French hands (although my gallant mmg position held out to the end) and my surviving reinforcements facing the prospect of attempting to recapture in one turn what had taken Dave four to achieve.  Congratulations to Dave whose skillful use of smoke and positioning compensated for some frightenly fragile troops.  Fewer congratulations to me who mishandled my forces on a couple of occasions.  In retrospect perhaps setting up more defences on the left is the answer since that's where the reinforcements arrive.

And now those faint hopes are gone

 Tune in next time when it is my turn to command the Free French (we'll gloss over the game we played in between where I lost in such an embarrassing fashion that it isn't worthy of an AAR).

Plague Update #51 - We're All Doomed, Again

 Well that escalated quickly.  One day I was sitting at home quietly waiting for my blood to coagulate after receiving my first vaccine shot the next I was thrown into lockdown.  Just in case I felt lonely the entire city of Sydney was tossed in after me.  Now the plague once again runs rampant through our fair nation leading to an outbreak of Category-5 level bitching between various governments as they desperately attempt to apportion blame.

My own state government so long the federal government's golden child now has the same sort of expression on its face that your spaniel gets when it is caught crapping on your bed.  Down in Victoria of course they are sniggering behind their hand and cheerfully banning flights from the affected areas.  Up in Queensland (perhaps unsurprisingly of a different political stripe to the federal or NSW governments) they have been somewhat more robust.  Their chief health officer was wheeled out to publicly announce that people shouldn't pay any attention to what the prime minister is saying.  A fair point but not one I would have thought needed to be explicitly stated.

And all eyes are on the vaccination program.  Or rather why the hell our vaccination program doesn't actually seem to be vaccinating too many people.  Queensland (again) has dropped dark hints that we might be running out of vaccine.  Such things are pooh poohed by the federal government which points out that a lot of people (including me) have received their first vaccination shot and can therefore be considered semi vaccinated.  So I guess I can only catch semi COVID.

In its most significant response to date the federal government has put a soldier in charge of the vaccine rollout.  This is a great idea as it allows the government to accuse anyone with complaints about the rollout of failing to support our troops.  Or at least one of our troops, I understand we have several.

My own personal little lockdown continues apace.  So far its a little difficult to tell the difference between lockdown and my actual life.  I will have to go out quite soon.  I'm running out of coffee which is the difference between a comfortable sojourn at home catching up on reading and tearing my hair out in a hysterical rage while gibbering incoherently to myself.  To be fair a good deal of the incoherent gibbering happens whether I have coffee or not but there's a darker edge to it sans caffeine.

Meanwhile in South Australia the combined attention of government and health authorities seem to be focussed on a pregnant dog whose owners have been placed into isolation.  The dog is apparently doing well.  As for the owners, well they might have died for all anybody seems to care.

Trouble on the Domestic Front

 It has to be admitted things have been a little ah, tense in Chez MacPherson in recent times.  Last Saturday I stumbled out of bed to find my stuffed platypus suspended by its tail from the ceiling.  There were signs of abuse.  My puffin and plague doctor denied all responsibility and suggested that the platypus must have walked in its sleep.  I think it is fair to say that the integration of the platypus into my household has not been without its challenges.

The puffin is outraged that another egg laying water dweller has been introduced into the home without prior consultation and the plague doctor simply refuses to believe that it is real and claims that components from a variety of stuffed animals have been stitched together to fool the gullible.  When the plague doctor produced his surgical instruments in an attempt to prove his assertions I decided the time had come for action.

"Guys, I think we need counselling," I announced.  The response was swift and unanimous.

"I don't need counselling, they do" issued from the mouths of all three of them pretty much simultaneously.  Having reached a rare note of agreement I cast about for a professional to assist us.  I take full responsibility for what happened next.  In retrospect it was rather silly of me to get my tech support to recommend a guidance counsellor.  Apparently his usual line of business is negotiating truces in gang wars and interrogating the odd journalist for the Belarusian government.

The counsellor's methods of treatment were, shall we say, unorthodox (although they may be typical in Belarus).  Once the dust (and the stuffing) had settled none of us was in any condition to take aggressive action against the others.  My puffin was trembling in a corner whimpering gently, the plague doctor was being talked out of suicide by the platypus which had lost half of its fur and had a wild gleam in its glassy eyes.  As for me the counsellor had some sage words of advice.

"Treat them brutally," he advised.  "Be harsh and pitiless and make their lives a living hell.  Be the grim, dark lord they despise and fear.  Unite them against you and they will get along fine."

"Interesting advice," I acknowledged removing a tooth he had loosened in one of his therapy sessions.  "Does this work with your professional practice in Belarus?"

"Oh I'm not a guidance counsellor in Belarus?" he replied.

"What do you do?"

"I'm a kindergarten teacher.  And to answer your question, yes the advice works perfectly."

His methods may be controversial but it has to be admitted they worked.  Since that time we have lived in perfect harmony the occasion fit of hysterical tears and random acts of self harm notwithstanding.  Should a dispute arise I merely have to suggest another guidance session to reduce everyone to a state of terrified silence.

I have however learned my lesson.  It is time for my to get over my newly acquired obssession with plush toys.  After all I'm not a thirteen year old girl anymore.  Indeed some claim I never was.

Silly After Action Report - Muddy Mayhem

 Struggling under a heavy load of ammunition didn't stop the marine from complaining.

"A nice sea voyage and then hitting a beach, that's what the marines are supposed to be about.  Does anybody see a beach around here?"

One or two of the younger marines looked about but their view of any potential beaches was blocked by trees.

"At least the Japanese didn't expect us," responded one of his comrades while simultaneously trying to stop the mud flowing into his mouth.

"Of course they didn't expect us," continued the whiner.  "No one in their right mind would try coming through here."  There was a wet squelch as another marine tripped on a hidden tree root and landed in the mud.  By the time rescuers arrived he had disappeared without trace.

"You'd better watch it," said one of the other marines while clinging to a tree with one hand.  "If the CO hears you bitching you'll be in trouble."

"The CO ain't gonna hear anything," replied the first.

"How can you be so sure?"

"I'm standing on his shoulders."

In a futile attempt to get me interested in campaign games Dave Wilson has been selecting various scenarios for us to play.  This time its scenario J136 - Muddy Mayhem from the Suicide Creek mini campaign game that came out in ASL Journal 9.  The map consisted of a virtually unbroken sea of green with (as advertised) a creek running through it.  I would command the heroic US marines attempting to get from the tree covered mud on one side of the creek to the tree covered mud on the other side of the creek.  Dave's Japanese were grimly determined to defend their tree covered mud to the death.

The victory conditions are simple.  I don't have to kill Japanese or exit troops or capture buildings, all I have to do is get my own troops across that creek.  Thirty two VPs worth of troops plus a tank.  When the objective is that simple you just know its going to be virtually impossible.

Still I appear to have the tools to do the job.  I have twenty squad equivalents of 668 marines plus four squads of 768 assault engineers. They are led by nine officers and are equipped with a pair of hernia inducing heavy machine guns, five medium machine guns, five bazookas, two DCs, a flamethrower plus a pair of Sherman tanks, two M3 halftracks with 75mm guns and (for reasons I can't quite explain) a pair of 37mm antitank guns.  In case this doesn't seem quite enough another pair of Shermans roll on in turn three.  I also have a field phone and a radio connecting me to two different sets of artillery about which the less said the better.

Squatting like malevolent toads on the apparently more desirable, higher rent side of the stream are Dave's Japanese.  Six first line squads, three second line squads, two heavy and two medium machine guns, four light machine guns, two 50mm mortars, three DCs, and two 70mm guns.  Fortifications are represented by ten pillboxes with storm cellars and six wire counters.  He gets another six squads (including two elite) as reinforcements.  The lot are led by six officers including a 10-1.  He also has a field phone connecting him to some much better organised artillery.

OK, here's the thing.  If they want to get anywhere at all the tanks can only move along the trails which represent corduroy roads.  Further they can only cross the creek at one of the two fords which I had to place prior to the Japanese set up.  Realistically there are only a couple of places those fords can be put anyway.  This means that the Japanese will know where the tanks are crossing and can set up accordingly which Dave dutifully did. 

After looking at his set up I placed a pair of tanks and a decent force of infantry near the ford on the right.  The two reinforcing tanks and a small amount of infantry would head for the ford at the centre of the map.  Given the exiguous nature of the Japanese antitank defence I figured I would get at least one across.  All the infantry placed with the vehicles was largely diversionary, to throw firepower down on those opposite and stop them from interfering on the left of the map where his forces seemed thin and where I placed a large amount of infantry including three squads all manning mmgs and guided by a 9-2 leader.  In short I would tie him down in the centre and right and hopefully get infantry across on the left with relative impunity.

At start set up.  Both hmgs are lurking under a tank on the right.

It seems that I don't have much luck with artillery and that would continue, I would not get a single fire mission the entire game.  In this case however it wasn't luck that was to blame but sheer mind buggering incompetence on my part.  I set up the field phone in a location where it had a line of sight to literally nothing.  Over the course of the game the officer toting the radio connected to my other artillery would have better things to do (like attempting self rallying) than calling for fire support.  At the very least this reduced my administrative burden somewhat.

Things went more or less ok in the first couple of turns.  On the right the massed firepower of two tanks, a 37mm, two hmgs and weapon happy marines proved incapable of harming the Japanese in their bunkers.  An attempt to get a DC close resulted in marines fleeing (very slowly) for the rear.  On the left though my kill stack swept the area clean and allowed the accompanying troops to slither and splash their way into the creek enroute for the fabled southern bank.  In the centre I sent some troops and an M3 to start softening up the area prior to the arrival of my turn 3 tanks.  Such softening as occured was largely of me as Dave gave a master class in artillery (tip, put your observer somewhere he can observe something) and the crew of my 37mm in the area was broken and the newly arriving M3 rapidly destroyed.

End American turn 1

Dave brought on his reinforcements to reinforce the centre but was forced to redirect them to the threat on the left.  On the far right for reasons he never explained to me he jumped a force across the stream, apparently to bring the war onto American home ground.  I watched this with some bemusement as they struggled through the jungle and then cheerfully slaughtered them when they turned up adjacent to my 37mm gun.

End Japanese turn 1

The situation on the right wouldn't really change for about three turns.  I sat there in the jungle and blasted at pillboxes with immense firepower while on the Japanese side they sat there and took it while simultaneously breaking any marines who tried break the stalemate by getting a little too close.  A halfsquad with my sole flamethrower died a grisly death before he could fire a shot and the combined firepower of multiple squads, heavy machine guns, two tanks and my surviving M3 seemed to do little more than irritate the Japanese.  This was actually a little misleading.  Japanese concealment had been stripped and the sheer volume of fire they were receiving would garner rewards eventually.  The garnering was assisted by my sniper.  Dave and I had looked at the mighty leaders (a 10-2 for me and a 10-1 for him) and agreed that each of them was nothing more than sniper bait.  We were right.  My sniper took out his 10-1 (guiding one of his hmgs in a pillbox).  In turn his sniper (slightly less effectively) wounded my 10-2 and reduced him to a still impressive 9-1 albeit a rather slow moving one.

Over on the left I had discovered his barbed wire.  Fortunately I had time to wriggle free of it before Dave's reinforcements veered left to face my troops now (I though) safely across the river.  Well most of the squads wriggled free.  One particular squad remained stuck on the wire for three turns and it was really a mercy when Dave's artillery laminated it across the landscape.  Still despite my frustration at the stalemate on the right I was feeling pretty good.  My troops were across on the left in force and my reinforcement tanks were rolling towards the centre.  I had completely forgotten about his two 70mm guns but a quick check of the table indicated that they were unlikely to be able to do much about the Shermans anyway.

End of Japanese turn 2.  Those reinforcements are looking disturbing

Things went a little to hell after that.  Some nifty close combat had cleaned out his bunkers on the left but my troops were standing in relatively open ground while a horde of largely concealed Japanese poured towards them.  Dave's artillery didn't help very much with that, mangling a couple of squads and sending them yelping back across the river.  As my force on the right started striping the hmg crews in the bunkers Dave sent some troops forward across the creek to help.  At least I think that's what they were trying to do.  They popped up on my side of the creek, took a look at the force waiting for them and hopped back into the river again.  

Greatly daring I had sent my hmg squads (led by a 9-1) into the ford under the dubious protection of a Sherman tank I had parked there to menace his bunker a little more.  That pretty much worked, only one squad got killed but the survivors were able to add some more firepower against the pillbox dwellers who by this time could probably build armour plate out of all the metal I was throwing at them.

Things no longer looking so good on the left

Dave's artillery had saved his position on the left but then my kill stack destroyed it again, some low rolls slaughtered his reinforcements and gave my battered forces a breathing space.  It didn't hurt that Dave who up until now had been producing black chits all over the place finally turned over a red and briefly lost his artillery (it would come back).  On the right I had finally taken down the machine gun crews in the pillboxes and everything was ready for the final push.  I managed to push troops into both pillbox hexes and challenged him to try and take them back.  For my tank in the creek I had other plans, it turned and rolled up the creek. Admittedly it rolled only one hex before bogging but that didn't matter.  It broadened my beachhead (mudhead?) and provided a little protection for the troops crossing the ford.  This was good as there was a 70mm gun waiting for them to do just that.  Now with a Sherman tank parked directly in front of it it had other things to worry about.

In the centre my reinforcing tanks had arrived and rolled towards the other ford.  I got one tank across the creek in the teeth of his largely impotent defences while my wounded 10-2 and his troops provided support from a distance.  The other tank I left in the ford hex for reasons which will become apparent later.  On the right I sent troops which until now had largely been contributing to a human traffic jam sweeping to the right where they crossed the river unopposed.

Strangely I appear to be succeeding

My final plan depended on the fact that I only needed one tank across the stream (which was useful since two of them were bogged).  Dave had a unit in the stream capable of covering the centre ford.  My tank in the centre ford turned and rolled into the Japanese unit's hex (and fortunately Dave didn't get a TH hero) thus occupying their attention which allowed my infantry (and wounded 10-2) to get into the ford.  They (except the leader) would advance onto the south bank in the advance phase.  This should be enough to get me the win.

This brilliant plan was almost derailed when a Japanese half squad facing my tank on the south side of the stream generated a TH hero and sent it against the solitary Sherman in the victory area.  With all the other tanks wallowing in the stream if this tank went down there would be no recovery.  I consoled myself with the thought that Dave needed to roll a three to get any sort of a result in CC.  Dave rolled a three.  The Sherman was immobilised.  I scanned the victory conditions desperately.  It said nothing about mobility, the tank just needed to have functioning MA and it did.

With most surviving American troops across the creek and the remainder poised to advance on Dave conceded.

Endgame.  Even more strangely I appear to have won

For the bulk of the game I appeared to be getting nowhere and at the last turn I had so many troops across it was almost embarrassing.  Much thanks to Dave for the game.  This was his choice so next time he won't be surprised to see he's attacking Italians in the desert.

A weary, sweat soak marine wiped some mud off his uniform only to find that he had nowhere to put it that wasn't also covered in mud.

"So this is the south bank," he muttered looking around.  "I can see why we wanted it.  The mud is definitely of higher quality over here.  You could eat your dinner off this.  In fact you have to."