Silly After Action Report - Taking Some Flak

 Two SS gebirgsjager were talking to a war correspondent who had come to document the heroics of these northernmost bearers of the standard of National Socialism.

"Is it hard being a gebirgsjager?" asked the correspondent.

"Not really, they're easy to identify and they don't move very quickly," replied one of the gebirgsjager.

"It's a bugger mounting them on your wall though," added the second.

"What about the Finns?" asked the correspondent, greatly daring.  The "awkwardness" with Finland was strictly off limits as a topic.

"Mountains don't have fins, they have outcrops," said the first.

"Yeah," said the second gebirgsjager, "we're just about to be surrounded by outcrops."

"Really," the correspondent looked around in alarm but the mountains didn't seem any closer.

"Yep there are outcrops all over the place.  I'd stay close to the flakwagen if I were you."

The correspondent thanked them and hurried off.  The first gebirgsjager turned to his comrade,

"That damned flakwagen is a rolling target.  Why did you send him there?"

"He's the bastard who writes the crosswords for Signal.  Have you seen some of the clues he's come up with lately?"

After a series of heartbreaking defeats I ventured north in an attempt to revive my ASL fortunes.  This time we would play Scenario J192 - Taking Some Flak.  Here a group of elite German SS mountain troops (commanded by me) are attempting to discreetly exit their no longer ally Finland while a force of Finns commanded by Dave are trying to curry favour with their distinctly impatient Soviet neighbour by stopping them.

A single road winds through a northern Finnish forest.  Said forest is occupied by SS gebirgsjager, hastily rebadged as waldjager for the occasion.  The Finns can win at the end of turn three by controlling the road.  Otherwise its by gaining 5CVP more than the Germans.  This can be done by the standard killing Germans method but on the last turn there is the opportunity for exit VP as well.

My Germans are essentially trying to stay alive and fight off a Finnish encirclement attempt.  I command seven and a half elite SS troops commanded by a pair of reasonably competent officers.  They have one medium and two light machine guns and a 50mm mortar.  Providing an unreasonable amount of firepower in support is an Sdkz 7 flak halftrack with a quad 20mm AA mount which can generate 20FP on the IFT by itself.  This vehicle will henceforth be known as the rolling disappointment.

Dave commanding the Finns has nine squads, five first line and four second commanded by a pair of leaders.  They have a couple of light machine guns and an 81mm mortar in support.  Given a choice of two Dave went for the bespoke smoke mortar.  On or after turn one Dave receives reinforcements in the shape of three more first line squads, a leader, an lmg and a few concealment counters.  These can turn up in the German rear.

At start

Above is the at start set up.  I've pushed a couple of half squads forward to act as speed bumps while the rest of my force hangs on the edges of the forest to hopefully punish the oncoming Finns.  In the rear is my best leader with a squad and the mmg to try and hold off his reinforcements.  The rolling disappointment controls the road.

 Dave struck in two directions, a flanking attack directed at my lonely halfsquad at the top of the board and the other, protected by smoke pushing towards the centre (while trying to avoid the rolling disappointment).  His reinforcements slunk onto the board cringing under concealment counters rather than bravely charging the guns.

End of Finnish turn 1

My speed bump halfsquad down the bottom fled under fire and swarms of Finns occupied the forest and gully facing my main position.  At the top it was a different story however. My halfsquad survived all advancing fire and began to write a story of heroism and sacrifice that would last for as long as reindeer survive to tell it.

For the most part I held my fire.  If the Finns wanted to strip my concealment they would have to give me better targets than they had so far.  My halfsquad fled to the rear and I moved an officer back to rally him.  For the rest I kept proud and silent.

End of Finnish turn 2

So as you can see from the above the entire "proud and silent" thing didn't last for long.  Dave decided to brave the bullets and I was more than happy to provide them.  My mortar crew didn't last long and soon a grey swarm was headed towards my positions at the bottom of the map.  At the top though his attack had been if not shattered then distinctly cracked.  Finnish troops had fled well placed German fire and his surviving squad jumped into CC with my half squad who defied the odds by surviving.  In my rear his reinforcements were menacing and I edged another rearward squad in their direction.  For the moment though I was hoping to break the frontal assault and then turn my attention to the rear.

 

End of German turn 2

Well break the frontal assault I did.  Dave's Finns were crucified trying to cross the open ground in front of my defences.  At the top of the board my gallant halfsquad casualty reduced his opponent in CC and the melee ground on while the rest of his flanking force hid in the trees and attempted self rally.  Yep it's fair to say that I was on top of the world.  Unfortunately I would discover that I suffer from vertigo.

In the next Finnish turn Dave would rally his flankers, reinforce the melee and send the rest circling around the forest.  The flanking move was on albeit a little delayed.  Down the bottom of the board it was true the remnants of his force were just grateful to be alive but in the rear my 9-1 led mmg stack proved utterly inept and wound up broken and in CC with battle hungry Finns.  As it turned out the battle hungry Finns turned out to be a little inept at close combat, my broken squad managed to withdraw (leaving the 9-1 alone to face the wrath of their opponents while my hero halfsquad killed another halfsquad and carried the melee forward to another turn.

OK, not quite so good.

So my rear was suddenly collapsing (insert your own tasteless joke here) but things weren't too bad.  I had seen off a portion of his attack and I could now start pulling back troops to deal with the upstart Finns who had snuck round behind me.  Besides I still had the rolling disappointment (yet to earn its title), surely victory would still be mine.  After all, due to the carnage I had inflicted in the early turns I had a comfortable CVP buffer or so I thought.

Yes, all is not lost

The rolling disappointment rolled towards the rear and its date with impotence while I shuttled such troops as not absolutely essential to keep his forces away back to deal with the impudent flankers.  My gallant halfsquad finally went down in CC but the moral victory was theirs.  A squad killed and two others tied up for the best part of three turns.  It was up to me to capitalise on their courage and skill.

OK so I didn't capitalise on their courage and skill.  The rolling disappointment's sole contribution to the game over several fire phases would be a single pin result which the Finns passed.  Despite that and the inevitable loss of my 9-1 in CC I was still in a good position.  Dave had taken such heavy casualties early that he would need to exit troops off the board and score some spectacular CVP to win the game.

Despite inevitable defeat Dave persists

As the final turns rolled around I was nervous but hopeful.  Dave on the other hand was desperate, he pushed troops through my fire to approach the exit location.  All his troops survived, I was sanguine he would still need something more impressive than that if he wanted to win.  Then his flankers who had so far been conspicuous by their absence from the battle stepped forward, advanced into CC with one of my squads, rolled snake eyes and killed it.  The next turn they did exactly the same thing again.

Weeping in desperation I raced such of my troops as remained alive towards the exit locations but most of them didn't make it.  Those that did couldn't hit a barn from the inside.  The rolling disappointment sprayed the area with minable quantities of metal without achieving anything.  Heart stricken and with the CVP cap now firmly against me I conceded, hot tears flowing down my cheeks.

Yep defeat was indeed inevitable

This was actually a tight and exciting game.  For the first three turns I was all over Dave and held serious hopes of victory.  Unfortunately it was the last couple of turns that are important.  I can't even complain about the back to back snake eyes since my halfsquad had all the CC luck in the early stages.

Next time Dave has agreed to play Cautious Crusaders which is a scenario I've always wanted to play (because I like quixotic scenarios with Axis Minors, Italians and the like).  I'm playing the Slovakians so tune in to what will no doubt be more self pitying whining in the next entry.

A wild eyed gebirgsjager threw himself into a hastily dug foxhole as Finnish troops carved up what was left of their unit and the flakwagen threw metal seemingly at random into the atmosphere. His comrade was taking a little down time and was peering at the army's propaganda sheet in annoyance.

"Hey, what's a nine letter word for 'big lumbering mammal'?"

"I don't know, how many letters in Reichsmarschall?"

Travelling Pathetically - Way Out West Edition

 A few weeks ago my Blue Mountains correspondent contacted me and demanded to know why I hadn't used any of her excellent contributions on my blog.  I pointed out that the sole contributions she had made so far consisted of 283 different photos of leaf mould and a seventy six thousand word "manifesto" the most socially acceptable components of which included a demand that all lyre birds be rounded up and shot and that earthworms be given citizenship.  I'm starting to think that all my correspondents are mentally unhinged.  I tried looking for a pattern but the only thing they have in common is that they know me, so I guess it will remain a mystery.

"Why don't you come up and stay the weekend?" she suggested, "I'm sure you'll get material for a blog entry then.  Against my better judgement I agreed, partly because I thought I might get a blog entry out of it but mainly because her husband is an excellent cook.  I did entertain visions of bushwalks through the more photogenic portions of the Blue Mountains and brought my camera to capture such excitement.

I turned up on Friday night with rain descending in a distinctly unbushwalk friendly way. My correspondent greeted me with bad news.

"I won't be around tomorrow." (well she thought it was bad news).  "But, I have good news," (well she thought it was good news).  "Dave is riding out to a bike show in Bathurst tomorrow, would you like to go?"  Dave is her husband and he sweetened the deal by cooking an excellent meal.  My knowledge of motorcycles is limited to a knowledge of how many wheels they have and the last time I was on the back of a bike was thirty odd years (said bike being ridden by Dave).  Dave assured me that he had got considerably more risk averse since the last time I'd been on the back.  This happens as you get older, the less life you have left the less inclined you are to risk it which is odd because you would think it would be the other way round.

Dave also assured me that if it was raining we would take the car instead (another sad marker of mortality, thirty years ago Dave would have ridden in a hurricane and I would have been happy to be his passenger).  I have never been to a bike show and only once been to Bathurst and a lack of interest in either didn't seem to be a great reason to say no, so I said yes.  Dave promised to wake me at six the next morning if we were taking the bike.

I woke at eight the next morning to find Dave staring at the rain with disfavour.  The weather seemed like a good reason to call the whole thing off but before I could make such a mealy mouthed suggestion I was showered, dressed and sitting in a car which Dave proceeded to point in the direction of Bathurst.  We wound our way through and eventually over the mountains and headed for the Western Plains pausing only to have breakfast in Lithgow.  Once out of the mountains the weather immediately improved and I could hear Dave grinding his teeth as we were overtaken by bike after bike obviously heading for Bathurst.

I say we headed for the Western Plains but Bathurst is pretty much where they start so we got to the edge of the Western Plains and then stopped.  In actual fact there was still a fair bit of up and down along the way and once we arrived in Bathurst Dave suggested that before we saw the bike show we could head for Mount Panorama.  If you're a motor racing enthusiast this is holy ground.  If you're not its a hill with a race track on it.  So anyway Mount Panorama is a hill with a race track on it.  Nevertheless even I've heard of it and was quite amenable to a suggestion that we drive the circuit at a modest pace appropriate to our years and the condition of the vehicle we were in.

Gazing down on Bathurst from Mt Panorama

Drive the circuit we did, we even paused for photos.  The day wasn't exactly bright but it was pleasant by comparison with the Blue Mountains where the more religious inhabitants had started building arks.  With our motor sport itch appropriately scratched we headed into the centre of Bathurst to find the bike show.  At this point it was discovered that neither of us knew exactly where said show was located.  Dave knew the street but it turned out to be rather a long one that went through the entirety of the town.  He suggested we head for the heaviest accumulation of parked vehicles on the theory that the bike show couldn't be far away.  I agreed that this sounded logical and towards an endless stream of parked cars we went.  Certain we were getting close we rolled past what was essentially a huge parking lot scanning for a gap in the serried ranks of vehicles.

Then the road ended at a park where large numbers of children were playing sport.  Weekend sport is apparently quite popular in Bathurst to the point where we wondered if anyone would actually be at the bike show.  Reversing our direction we drove back through Bathurst and almost ran into the bike show which was being conducted on the street.  A swift sacrifice to the gods provided a parking space not too far away and we alighted to walk in the direction of all things motorcycle.

But first we walked through a park.  This wasn't exactly intentional it was just that the park was between us and the bike show.  It was quite a handsome park however with an ornamental pond an interesting shade of muddy green.

In the park

We're now about nine or ten paragraphs into this entry and you must be wondering if there is going to be a single photo of a motorbike.  Yes, yes there is, your wait is almost over.  Once through the park we stepped out of the tedious greenery and onto more appropriate tarmac and concrete.  Stretched out along the length of the street were motorbikes all primped and polished and looking their best gleaming under the sadly overcast sky.  One person had gone to the trouble of placing a chain around his entry and put up a sign imploring people not to touch.  I had no intention of touching and I have Dave's word for the fact that it wasn't anything particularly special motorbike wise anyway.

Most owners were more relaxed, proud to show their charges and accepting the compliments that came their way with modest self deprecation.

Look, a motorbike

And here's another

We spent an enjoyable couple of hours wandering up and down the ranks of motorbikes.  Or at least I did.  Dave seemed to be muttering something under his breath.  As he continued along the collection of bikes the muttering grew louder.  Finally he could take it no more, having inspected what was on offer he announced his certainty that the bike he was planning on riding here would have won a prize.  But sadly we had come by car and the potentially prize winning bike was back in his garage.  Dave seemed inclined to blame me for this since he would certainly have braved the rain if he hadn't had to shepherd me (no he wouldn't).  Things were a little awkward for a while and I left him to stew while I putatively studied motor bikes a little distance away.  When I returned he had quite sensibly come to the conclusion that it was all my correspondent's fault and he would blame her extensively when we got home.  That seemed entirely fair to me.

My particular favourite

And for some reason a fire engine.  None of the bikes caught fire while I was there

In all honesty neither Dave nor myself were particularly impressed with the bike show.  There were indeed some nice looking bikes there and all cleaned and polished til they shone but there wasn't as much of a selection as I was expecting and almost none of the vintage bikes I had been hoping to see.  Dave picked out a few things which impressed him mightily but overall thought the selection a little lacking as well.  I didn't suggest this was the reason he thought his bike might pick up a prize as Bathurst is a long way to walk home from.

After a couple of hours of not being quite as impressed as we hoped we jumped in the car and headed for home.  Along the way we were passed by bike after bike and Dave's temporarily ceased muttering returned.  Then we reached the Blue Mountains and drove into what was essentially a vertical flood.

"Oh shut up," muttered Dave when I raised an amused eyebrow.

When my correspondent and I were younger we shared a house where we partied hard, drank deep and stayed up so late that it wasn't worth going to bed before getting ready for work.  We decided to revisit those glory days and indeed we did until 10.30pm when all three of us decided we needed to go to bed.  The next day my correspondent introduced me to a selection of rubber snakes.

Two of the aforementioned rubber snakes

I am not the person who can criticise a fetish but this seemed a little odd until she explained that they were there to scare the lyre birds away from her garden.  I don't know if they were having any effect on the lyre birds but they were confusing the crap out of the kookaburras who kept trying to kill them.  Fortunately they were a little too big to eat.

With my time coming to an end and no sign of a let up in the rain my correspondent showed off her garden.  I wasn't particularly crazy about this because well, rain.  My correspondent however would work in her garden if it was raining concrete so I smiled and took photos of some rather damp plants.

Damp plant #1

Damp plant #2

And so on

All good things must come to an end.  At least that's how I worded it to my correspondent who had unexpectedly produced some nylon cord and duct tape.  Finally she agreed to drive me to the train station.  Which was very kind of her or at least it would have been if the trains had been running.

Silly After Action Report - Ace in the Hole

 Hauptmann Hans Niesentös sighed heavily.  It was getting harder and harder to motivate his troops to fight on through to the inevitable victory.  OK it wasn't great that after nearly six years of war their objectives had been reduced to "capture your next door neighbour's backyard" but at least they were fighting on their home ground.  That had to count for something right?  Not according to the deeply uninterested panzer grenadiers of his command.  To make matters worse they hadn't even captured the neighbour's backyard.  Now new orders had arrived to hold this village to the last.  He had tried to bolster morale by informing his troops that the famous 9th Panzer division would be supporting them.  Then his orderly had pointed out that the clutch of sullen troopers and the handful of shopsoiled tanks in front of him was the 9th Panzer.

A sudden shout jerked the Hauptmann out of his gloomy reverie. Racing to the observation post he was in time to see an unbroken wall of olive green moving towards his rather exiguous positions.  Accompanying them was...

"What the hell is that," demanded Niesentös.

"It looks like a tank only bigger," replied a soldier.  "Take a look at that gun, we are so screwed."

Yep it was getting harder and harder to motivate the troops.

Once again I have failed on a promise to produce an AAR.  Keen readers will note that I promised to provide an AAR of At the Point which was the next game we played.  Play it we did, it was all over by turn two.  My defeat so comprehensive that I couldn't bring myself to write about it.  Then, at my insistence, we played Savannah Rain.  We abandoned that game when Dave carved up about half my Italian infantry with NOBA only to discover a turn or so later that the NOBA didn't extend to board 10.  Finally we played Shielding Moscow about which I will only say that it is difficult to command troops with six morale when you can't roll less than eight on a morale check.

So here we are with scenario AP14 - Ace in the Hole which I selected by turning the scenario card for Shielding Moscow over (I wanted to get it out of my sight).  I must confess to a certain amount of trepidation in writing this AAR.  After I had done my set up as the defending Germans I googled the scenario as is my want to see if there were any AARs that would point out how badly I had screwed up.  To my horror I saw that Grumble Jones had recently played this very scenario and posted an AAR on his excellent blog (link attached in case you've been living under a rock and haven't seen it).

https://boxcarsagainaslblog.blogspot.com/

I was seized with doubts.  Would my opponent think I had just copied the tactics noted in that fine report (a swift glance at the result would have disabused him)?  Would others (such as yourselves dear readers) think that I was merely clinging to the coattails of this more august publication in the hopes that the unwary would confuse my blog with his?  I reassured myself that while Grumble Jones blog is an excellent, high quality blog with fine pictures, graphics and tactical pointers mine is...not.  So here we go.

I command what little of the German army has managed to survive the last six years somewhat unenthusiastically defending a random German town.  I had ten squads evenly divided between elite and first line, three officers, a medium machine gun, three light machine guns a panzerschreck and a dozen concealment counters.  The remnants of the 9th Panzer managed to scrape up a Tiger, two PzIVJs and a StuG IIIG.  Dave Wilson commanding the Americans had six elite and ten  first line squads led by four reasonably capable officers.  These troops had a hmg, two medium machine guns, a pair of bazooka 45s and two 60mm mortars.  Rolling along in oversized but very impressive support were a trio of bog standard Shermans, two 76mm Shermans and the American tiger killer a M26 Pershing.

In his blog Grumble Jones mounted an upfront defence which led to a free wheeling tank battle which he won.  I on the other hand would mount a down back defence with the tanks buried in buildings to support the less than keen infantry.  I hoped to present a wall of stone protected defenders to my enemy.  Actually I just presented a collection of targets.  I did place the StuG up on the hill.  This is a dangerous spot but the StuG is small and was nicely hulldown and I thought it might survive long enough to give Dave's initial advance some pause.  Dave's second shot of the game was a critical hit which burnt it.  So much for that plan.  Indeed the only thing it achieved was to annoy Dave as he had planned to occupy that very hex with the Pershing.

End of US turn 1

Undaunted by the spectacular explosion on the hill in front of them the Americans pushed forward.  I had a screen of mostly dummies to slow him down plus a small garrison in the only multilevel building on Board 4 so that he couldn't just walk in.  

In my turn my forward troops cringed down hoping their concealment counters would hold.  There was however a bit of movement in the rear area.  With my StuG lighting up the sky for miles around I felt that I should get some armour over to support the lone squad hiding out in the building on the right so I rolled a nearby PzIV over there.  More significantly I lurched my Tiger out of its sheltering building to take up what I felt to be a blocking location against his main thrust.  This provided me with my one unalloyed moment of pleasure in the game as an advancing fire shot from the 88 managed to kill a Sherman with an uncharacteristic low to hit roll.  Unalloyed moments of pleasure would soon be declared extinct.

End of German turn 1. Definitely the high point of the game for me

Although a little taken aback by my Tiger's keen shooting Dave proceeded with his advance.  The smoke mortars on his Shermans went into overdrive to shield his approach.  My upfront delaying force was broken and routed from the forward building but at this stage I wasn't too disappointed.  Two turns had gone by and the bulk of my defence was intact.  Unfortunately so was the bulk of Dave's attack. 

Over on the left Dave had set up a mortar to try and whittle down my forces a little but a housebound PzIV took a particular disliking to that unit and broke it, ELRed it and finally killed it over the course of several turns of firing.  You may say taking out a single halfsquad is a pretty poor result for a PzIV but it was more than the rest of them achieved.  The happy time such as it was was nearly over.

Despite being crowned with smoke Dave obviously wanted the hill on the right and dispatched a powerful force including his Pershing to take it.  I hadn't really given the hill too much thought.  I knew it was a trap for my armour (and if I didn't know the StuG's fate brought it home to me) but, particularly with a burning wreck at the top I didn't consider how useful it would be to a Pershing with armour that could laugh at most of my firepower.

The calm before the storm, Dave works into position

The next turn or so was relatively quiet as Dave brought his forces into position and I encountered an issue I would meet time and again throughout the rest of the game.  Nowhere could I bring sufficient firepower to actually make it worth shooting.  This was probably a result of my somewhat cowardly set up where I hoped stone would do most of the work for me but it meant Dave could manoeuvre pretty much at will.

Then things pretty much happened at once and after that they didn't stop happening.  Dave worked his Pershing on to the hill and destroyed my Tiger with a line of sight I didn't realise was there.  Where Dave's troops encountered mine my guys got crushed and it soon became obvious that my only option was to run away and keep running.

My tiger is gone and believe me the PzIV over by the hill hasn't got long to live

I gave up on all thoughts of fighting it out and settled for pulling back and forcing the Americans to come to me.  The Americans don't have to capture a single location, they merely need to ensure that there are no Germans in any multilevel building.  There are quite a few of these but there is a long time in this scenario and I would run out of buildings before Dave ran out of time.

I struggled on for a couple of turns, fleeing the bulk of my forces rearward ("bulk of my forces" now amounting to about three squads) while leaving a couple of stay behind units to not so much threaten him (I was virtually incapable of harming him) as to simply force him to shoot rather than move.  When Dave's Pershing managed snake eyes on an advancing fire HE shot to destroy my last panzer what little was left of my personal morale dribbled out of my body (at least I think it was personal morale).  I conceded with weary despair.

In retrospect I screwed this up right from the beginning.  I should have set up more forward and challenged the Americans as they started their move.  My tanks (with the exception of a solitary Sherman) were positioned uselessly and the time it took Dave to win was more an indication of the distance he had to travel and a certain understandable caution than any effort on my part.  I'm not going to name the scenario we'll be playing it next in case I screw that one up so badly that it isn't worth doing an AAR.  Note that this scenario apparently was.  This gives an indication of the skill level I possess playing this game but hey, I've only been doing it for about twenty five years.

This was my "sod this for a game of soldiers" moment

Many thanks to Dave for handing me my arse in a sack yet again.  Hopefully I can do a little better next time.

Hauptmann Niesentös pushed a twisted piece of PzIV armour off his body and attempted to rally the remnants of his troops.

"Hold firm boys, there's another village we can defend after this one.  The war isn't over yet."

His few surviving men just looked at him.

"Oh screw it, last one to the prison cages is a rotten egg!"

For the very first time his men cheered him.

Stellar!!!

 Keen readers of this blog will have noticed a relative dearth of entries in recent times.  Partly that can be explained by simple laziness (ok, mostly it can be explained by simple laziness) but also it has to be admitted that the creative springs have run dry.  There is only so much one can say about Covid without repeating oneself and I haven't been doing much else lately that is even of interest to me.

In such times of desperation I turn to my Tasmanian correspondent for tales of that distant southern land which I can then mutilate and turn into a few half arsed paragraphs making fun of the more chromosomally challenged members of our society.  Seeking inspiration or at least cheap laughs I fired up the communications centre provided by my tech support (it doubles as a missile launching system but so far I haven't hit anything important) and contacted my reporter in the deep south.  The conversation took a familiar turn.

Me:    Hi there!

Tasmanian Correspondent:    Arrgh!

Me:    Calm down!

TC:    In the name of God put some clothes on!

To be fair a video link was probably not the wisest idea my tech support have ever come up with.  Once my correspondent had regained her natural equilibrium (and I had found a dressing gown) we were able to start discussing the issues of the day.  Or rather, since she's in Tasmania, the issues of approximately fifteen years ago.  As she spoke my attention started to be attracted by something in the background.

"I don't want to worry you..."

"Too late."

"But one of your dogs appears to be lopsided."

"That's Stellar, she only has three legs."

This came as a bit of a surprise as I had met Stellar only a few months ago and while I don't claim to be the most observant person around I was pretty certain she had had the standard allocation of legs while I was there.  My correspondent assured me that this was a recent development.

"So is this a fashion statement or are food supplies starting to run low in Tasmania?"

My correspondent then launched on a tale of canine woe involving illness, pain, noble suffering and finally the reluctant but necessary decision to amputate.  I must confess I dozed off part way through.  When I opened my eyes she had finished and was looking at me expectantly.

"Oh that's..." I scrabbled for an adjective at random, "terrible?"

"It is," she agreed.  Phew!

Poor Stellar had suffered from bone cancer in one of her joints leading to such excruciating pain that the vet had said that either the leg had to come off or Stellar would need to be put down to end her suffering.  Having selected option A my correspondent was then left with the relatively minor task of somehow transferring a three legged, drugged up, 30kg dog from the animal hospital to her home for recovery.  

An operation of almost military precision was put into effect requiring the assistance of children, a retired diplomat and an ex-husband but finally all was completed and Stellar is now on the road to a tripodal recovery while being cossetted and made much of by various children.

Normally at this point in our conversations I would ask questions about the well being of my correspondent's collection of fish and lizards generally with the implication that I expected their numbers to have thinned somewhat since our last communication.  In deference to the situation I didn't say anything so heartless and insensitive.  I was quite proud of the empathy I was showing and pointed out to my correspondent that I hadn't asked how many other of her animals had died and invited her to praise me for said empathy.  Oddly this didn't go down as well as I expected still my correspondent has always been a little strange.

I regained some credit by noting that Stellar was definitely the less annoying of her two dogs and I wished her a speedy recovery.  At least I assume I regained a little credit, at this point my correspondent's conversation consisted largely of obscenities and death threats and I'm not entirely sure if she heard me over her own hysterical shrieking.  Given the circumstances I decided not to press my correspondent for any material for my blog and settled myself for wishing Stellar well and saying I would call back later.

"You're going to use this in one of your damned blog entries aren't you?"

Well yes I did but in my defence I waited until I knew that Stellar had pulled through the surgery and that she seems to be making a full, albeit three legged, recovery before I did so.  With any luck Stellar will be around for many years to come.

Surprise! It's a Gender!

 I placed a call to my tech support the other day, something I'm becoming increasingly reluctant to do.  For starters since they have my flat bugged its largely unnecessary but also because I'm not entirely sure they have my best interests at heart.  Nevertheless I recently had my first encounter with what is apparently a "cultural phenomenon" and I wanted to see if it had crept into the more tyrannically ruled parts of the world.

My tech support were pleased to see me or at least they seemed less displeased to see me than most of the people I run into.

"Happy New Year, did you get the mutated, poisonous snakes we sent you for Christmas?"

"I did but you shouldn't have put them all in the same box.  By the time I got around to opening it there was a scene of reptilian carnage not seen since the extinction of the dinosaurs."

I could see one of them making a note; "killer reptiles to be sent in separate boxes from now on."

"So what can we do for you?" they asked,  "I hope you're not going to ask for Aryna Sabalenka's phone number again."

"We might get on."

"She's the one who ordered the snakes."

"That's a little harsh, she doesn't even know me."

"We might have dropped a few hints."

"Remind me to take my profile off your dating website."

"For the last time that's not a dating website its a human trafficking board."

With the preliminaries safely out of the way I got down to the real reason for my call.

"I've been invited to a gender reveal party."

"Well if you don't know by now..."

"Not my gender, relatives of friends are having a gender reveal party for their child.  Does that sort of thing happen in Belarus?"

"Oh yes, all the time.  Mind you we just call it child birth.  We bring potatoes for the fortunate mother, a bottle of vodka for the doctor and midwife and play guessing games to see if we can identify the father. Its a happy time."

"This is actually happening before the birth."

"Before the birth?  Well that's Westerners for you.  You're so impatient."

So it would appear that the delights of the gender reveal party have not yet filtered through the protective layer of secret policemen and pollution that shields Belarus from the outside world.  My tech support would be of no use to me.  With nothing more to ask them I signed off, well there was one more thing.

"Guys, about Aryna Sabalenka."

"We'll see what we can do."

"Really?"

"No."

It would not be true to say that I have never heard of a gender reveal party.  I just thought it was a peculiarly American peculiarity.  Now it would appear that they are making their way to Australia as well.  I've got to admit I'm not a fan.  For starters why all the excitement?, basically you've only got a choice of two.  I had a fifty percent chance of getting it right without any extra information at all.  Secondly, again why all the excitement?  Once the pregnancy has been established there's a pretty good chance you're having something.

I know (or at least I have been informed) that when a joyful event happens a certain type of person feels an overwhelming urge to share that information with their friends.  Either so those friends can share the joy or possibly to make them feel worse about their own wretched, joyless existence.  But this isn't a joyful event.  That doesn't take place for a few months (either that or it took place a few months ago) all this is really about is cataloging.  You're basically having a party to announce what is going to be on your child's drivers licence in sixteen years time.  Possibly another party will be required when you discover whether they're right or left hand dominant (for the record I'm left hand submissive).

There is also the danger that your children upon looking back on videos of the various festivities which announced their insertion into one of society's currently accepted gender slots will pick up on which gender the parents were actually hoping for which could lead to a certain amount of tension in the teenage years.  It is a little unfair to expect children to start disappointing their parents before they are born.

Finally of course you don't know how your child is going to identify in years to come.  It is possible that footage of your gender reveal festivities will be the principal evidence when your offspring accuse you of a pre-natal hate crime.

Silly After Action Report - Phoenix Rising

 Major Wu Tang Clan gazed approvingly as his men deployed under the protection of what definitely weren't palm trees.  Pride swelled within him, it was an honour to be commanding some of the toughest and most dedicated troops in the Chinese army.  He did a quick headcount, most of them had actually turned up and a significant percentage hadn't sold their weapons on the black market.  The Japanese would pay for their arrogance this day.  There was just one fly in the ointment.

Right on cue Lieutenant Peng Yuen arrived and saluted eagerly.

"I've posted the artillery observer sir.  He says its difficult to see anything through the trees but he'll do his best."

Major Wu was about to ask why the observer had been placed somewhere he couldn't see anything when a sudden explosion rocked the ground.

"What the hell was that?"

"Our air support," replied the lieutenant.  A second explosion somewhat more distant followed.

"They're miles off target."

"I may have had the map upside down."

So this is our next game scenario WO26 - Phoenix Rising.  Here I command the brave troops of the Chinese 116th division as they attempt to evict the Japan from the city of Tengchong.  Key to said eviction being the capture of three guns on a nearby hill.  My sole objective is to capture or eliminate all three guns.  Victory can come no other way.  

It has to be said that the Chinese have given me their best (obviously they didn't check my record).  I have twenty six elite squads led by five officers including an inspiring 9-2.  Coming along for the ride are a pair of medium machine guns, four light machine guns, two early model bazookas, a pair of flame throwers and four demo charges.  An offboard observer guides a module of 70mm artillery with a pre-registered hex to aid in accuracy.  A pair of American fighter bombers turn up at some point (but not earlier than turn 2) to add their own fire power to the attack.

That's a pretty impressive force, what can Dave put against it?  How about thirteen squads split between first and second line, an hmg and an mmg with the crews to go with them plus three light machine guns and two 50mm mortars.  Three leaders command including a none too shabby 9-1, six trenches and two pillboxes aid in protecting the defenders from the vengeful Chinese and of course there are the three 75mm guns which by SSR must set up on level 2 and not in the pill boxes.  The whole force can also set up concealed.

I made my first cock-up before we even started.  Despite there being no mention on the scenario card I assumed that PTO would be in effect with dense jungle thus not giving my offboard observer a particularly good view.  Therefore I placed it with LOS to the west half of the board which was more open but with not too much a view of the east.  Naturally because the west half of the board was more open Dave concentrated his defences in the east.

The hill (and the gun intensive second level) stretch across the north part of the board.  Thus despite the fact that it was obvious Dave had set up his main defence in the east I had to allocate some troops to clearing out the west.  There was always the possibility that a gun may have been hidden there away from the main action (there wasn't).  It was also the only place I could use my artillery.

I allocated a decent but definitely secondary force to the west.  It would advance under cover of the orchards and sweep up (and hopefully over) the western side of the hill, taking out Dave's token defenders and reassuring me that there wasn't a gun hidden anywhere sneaky.  In pretty much the only multistory building in my set up area I placed both mmgs with accompanying squads under the command of the 9-2.  It was their job to suppress, kill or gently persuade his squad in the pagoda to take less of an interest in proceedings.  The bulk of my force would head for the forest (not jungle you idiot) in the east and start making a slow and exhausting climb to where the bulk of his defences were located.  Flamethrower squads would lurk in the rear until more expendable forces had made contact with the enemy.  On the far right I would send a few squads plus my least impressive leader (the redoubtable Lt. Peng) to try and work their way around that flank but really just to discover what he had in the vicinity.

Things went well at first.  My artillery crashed down dead accurate and striped a pair of Japanese squads on the left including an ELR for the pagoda dwellers who suddenly found themselves to be conscripts at the worst possible time.  The Chinese panting under their CX markers made for the hill pretty much without loss.  I say pretty much, I did get a couple of squads broken.  Why?  Because I completely forgot about my own artillery and advanced into open ground being pounded with 70mm shells.  Frankly two broken squads was a small price to pay for such idiocy.

End of Chinese turn 1.  The Japanese diversionary forces on the left turned out to be just that.

In his turn Dave tried to pull back his diversionary forces on the left and dropped a white phosphorous shell on a squad which was menacing his pagoda dwellers.  My squad fled for the safety of some trees but the smoke provided a little extra cover and nullified what was essentially a non-existent threat to the left flank of my main force.  Now all they had to worry about was the threat to their right flank and front.  Their job done my 9-2 led kill stack dropped down and prepared to join their comrades on the hill who had persuaded a couple of Dave's units to drop their concealment by dancing around in front of them.  On the right a Dare Death squad charged for the nearest enemy and was vapourised by snake eyes on a 2-2 shot, not even cowering could save them.

End Chinese turn 2. The left hill is mine for what that's worth

Some lucky shooting on my part cleared a trench on the hill summit of defenders and I gleefully occupied it thinking it would make a fine base for further attacks.  Whereupon Dave promptly unveiled one of his 75mm guns and took the position under fire.  I was edging forward but at the price of revealing his fortifications Dave shot my advanced troops back again.

Hmm, that trench might not be an ideal location after all

Sadly for Dave he broke the gun on the next turn.  This is bad for the Japanese because a botched repair roll eliminates the gun and makes my job easier and if he doesn't try and repair it that makes my job easier.  Dave botched the repair roll, one gun down.  I was at his main line of resistance now.  He had a pillbox holding the hmg and a trench with a 75mm gun in the same hex.  The third gun's location was still a mystery (but options were running low).

One gun down due to sloppy Japanese maintenance, two more to go.

 Things stabilised for a couple of turns at this point.  I would edge closer he would break my units and they would retreat back again.  However return fire from the uninvolved was gradually whittling down his force.  My air support turned up, did nothing worthy of mentioning and left again.  My artillery observer was unsighted and my air support was gone.  Any victory would have to be won in the old fashioned way.  I could imagine the ghost of Field Marshal Haig nodding approvingly.

This didn't happen without losses, there was a regular stream of Chinese troops fleeing the sharp end in terror but I had a solid rear area and my 9-2 (Major Wu himself) swiftly rallied those who needed encouragement.

Of course getting the others wasn't quite so easy

Eventually I managed to gather sufficient force to simply overwhelm his forces.  Breaking a flamethrower didn't help but the other toasted his troops nicely.  His final gun was sitting in the trench to the rear as the Chinese swarmed over his main position.  Dave was now in a desperate position, most of his forces were dead things looked good for the Chinese but I wasn't over confident.  The final gun sat in a trench in open ground with what was left of Dave's troops around it and there were only a couple of turns to go.  Then Dave broke his final gun.  He was prepared to concede at that point but I pointed out that as long as he didn't try and repair it technically it was still in play and I would have to capture it.  Dave however was desperately short of troops and felt he needed the firepower from the gun to give himself a fighting chance so he tried to repair it, and rolled a six.

So that was it.  Victory to me slightly anticlimactically but it has been a long time since I had enough pride to want to win purely on my own merits.  This scenario was pretty balanced on ROAR but Dave and I had a tough time figuring out how the Japanese could win.  The Chinese have so many bodies and plenty of time.  There were plenty of Chinese casualties but at the end there were virtually no Japanese left on the board and enough Chinese to pretty much restart the scenario from scratch.  Maybe hiding one of the guns way over on the left side of the board is the answer, just to make the Chinese spend the time hunting it.

Endgame. The red circle marks where Dave's last gun used to be

 

Thanks to Dave for the game.  It is his choice of scenario next time and he's picked At the Point, published by Critical Hit but designed by our Paddington Bears comrade Dave Longworth.  Just for the record pretty much every second guy I know is named Dave.  Our generation's parents were not terribly imaginative in their choice of first names.

"Victory," the unfamiliar word rolled off Major Wu's tongue like nectar.  Surely there could be nothing better than this.  But he was wrong.  Even as he savoured the triumph a sergeant reported Lieutenant Peng's timely death, shot several times by snipers and finally drowning in his own blood.  Major Wu's cup ran over.

Plague Update #57 - Screw it Just Let Everybody Get Sick Edition

 I must admit I intended my previous plague update to be the last one.  Frankly I felt I had milked it pretty well and there are only so many ways you can say "yep, Covid still hanging around".

So what changed my mind?  What dramatic new development made me decide to circle back to the plague updates?  Desperation really.  The simple fact is that almost nothing has happened in my life over the last eighteen months or so that isn't Covid related.  I have done little travelling, almost nothing significant has occurred to prompt a blog entry and there are only so many reports on war games I can write before my non wargaming readership drops from few to none at all.

So, how about that Omicron hey?  Not only does it have a name like a super villain from a particularly cheap sci-fi movie but it has exquisite timing.  Our state leaders (except WA of course) flung open the doors and Omicron promptly went through them.  When Delta hit a few hundred cases a day it was enough to prompt my state government to institute a lockdown.  Omicron has now clocked five thousand in twenty four hours and the state government is like "Oh just cover your mouth when you cough."

Strangely they're probably right.  The whole point of lockdowns is to stop the virus spreading and I think we can say that ship has sailed.  In fact it has sailed, reached the opposing shore, launched landing craft and its army is currently battling its way up the beach.  Instead of lockdowns we now have "personal responsibility".  Both the federal and my state governments are basically telling everybody to just be responsible.  Which makes a certain amount of sense if the government isn't going to be but I wonder if any of our elected representatives have worked out that if people behaved responsibly there wouldn't be very much need for government at all.  

Expecting everyone to behave responsibility isn't just a justification for avoiding lockdown its also a justification for disbanding the police and dismantling our prison system.  To say nothing of speed cameras.  Still people are responding to the call.  Testing centres are overwhelmed to the point they have had to shut down, people are queueing up for booster shots and once again our vaccine supply is being called into question.  So the people are behaving responsibly, unfortunately it would appear the government isn't.

A part of the problem is the timing.  Not only had the government just released the shackles on the population but Christmas is just around the corner and the government is desperate for everybody to have as "normal" a Christmas as possible.  I have to admit a feeling of existential dread has been part of my Christmas tradition for as long as I can recall but its nice to have others with me this time.

In Victoria the police have a new toy to play with.  The government has decided to equip them all with tasers.  Whether this is in response to increasing levels of Covid based irritation or just an indication that the public is getting surlier with time wasn't explicitly detailed.

In good(ish) news there are hints that Omicron might be less interested in killing us than earlier variants of the virus.  This is moderately good news for us and excellent news for the virus.  Here's the thing, the virus doesn't want to kill you.  It wants you to live a long happy life, raise some kids and pass the virus down to them as a sort of RNA heirloom.  If you die that means the virus has to find somewhere else to live and it has to do it quickly.  This is why Ebola isn't a particularly effective virus, it tends to kill people so rapidly that it runs out places to live.  Pretty much all you have to do to beat Ebola is set up a cordon sanitaire around the infection zone and wait for everyone inside it to die.  Gruesome but it works.  

Covid was nothing like Ebola in terms of lethality and with Omicron there are hints that it has learnt to dial down the entire "killing the host" thing to an even lower level.  Unfortunately this is more likely to mean the damn thing will be with us forever.  Look out for Plague Update # 597 coming sooner than you think.