Chicken Run

 I received a call from my Tasmanian correspondent the other day.  This is unusual as she will usually go to quite extraordinary lengths to avoid having anything to do with me.  There was obviously something up, her cheeks were flushed and there was an air of suppressed excitement about her.

"You'll never guess what's happened," she announced.

"Has somebody in Tasmania discovered fire?"

She invited me to do creative things to myself with a garden hose and I thought the conversation might be over but she was obviously bursting to tell someone, I presumed her family were all out of town.

"There has been drama," she announced portentiously.  "There have been police, firearms, a helicopter and chickens."  For a moment I thought she must have got hold of video of my last birthday party but no, this was all new drama.

The story began innocently enough with my correspondent hard at work (that's her story and she's sticking to it) when the clatter of a helicopter woke her up, I mean disturbed her at her labours.  A rescue helicopter was circling overhead so vigorously that she could almost see the pilot throwing up over the side. "Ah," I thought, "here is a tale of someone lost in Hobart's outer suburbs (which are about a two minute drive from the inner suburbs) and needing aerial assistance." But no gentle reader for in a stunning plot twist it turned out that the helicopter had been hired by the Hobart police for use in a pursuit operation.  I guess in the meantime people just had to rescue themselves.

It turns out that an individual took offence to police questions about his possession of firearms and leapt into his car in an ill advised attempt to flee justice or at least the police.  Drawn by some invisible compulsion this malefactor had raced in the direction of my correspondents home while the police frantically chased and phoned a rescue helicopter for back up.  This makes as much sense as a surgeon seeking the assistance of a parking attendant for an appendectomy but my correspondent swears its true.

Eventually a series of spikes across the road brought the careening vehicle to a halt (ok I don't know if the vehicle was careening, forgive me for trying to inject a little colour into the story and actually careening involves beaching a wooden ship so you can scrape barnacles off the hull so maybe just ignore it completely) but the excitement didn't end there.  His vehicle having failed him the suspect (actually pretty certain) leapt into a pair of legs and continued to flee.  He didn't get far however.  Spotting a convenient henhouse he threw himself inside it and attempted to conceal himself among the feathers.  Fortunately for those of you who are supporters of law and order the police in Hobart are smarter than that (just) and were not fooled by the sudden disappearance of their quarry.

With a helicopter overhead and a drone buzzing nearby (its not entirely clear whether this was a police drone or just someone hoping to catch a glimpse of a neighbour in a bikini) heavily armed police stormed the henhouse in the most over the top assault since the ATF took down the Branch Davidian compound in Waco.  There was drama, shouting, drone buzzing, sirens, lights and all of the usual elements of state sponsored excitement.  One individual alone kept a clear head amid the chaos.  A chicken sitting on her eggs simply remained there incubating with enviable calm as a bunch of individuals supposedly far higher up the evolutionary tree went nuts around her.  The man was eventually dragged out and charged with "everything".  I have it on good authority that the chicken's name is Scruffy.

Silly After Action Report - Tridentina Avanti

Tenente Leonardo di Tartarughe-Ninja stopped stumbling blindly through the frozen waste for a moment and gazed across the countryside.  The only thing that confused him more than the German's apparent desire for this dump was the fact that the Russians seemed determined to hang on to it.  The evidence was incontrovertible however, several hundred thousand screaming Soviet soldiers backed up by tanks was a pretty convincing argument.  di Tartarughe-Ninja brushed the snow off one of his hands.  One of his fingers came with it.  That was frostbite for you.  Behind him were forty thousand freezing, starving weaponless soldiers looking for the most convenient exit from the Soviet Union, ahead of him was...di Tartarughe-Ninja blinked.  Was that General Reverberi climbing on top of an armoured car?  The words "Tridentina Avanti!" made their way to him through the frozen air.  Tartarughe-Ninja glanced at his incriminating shoulder patch, was it too late to pretend he was from the Sforzesca division?

You know I did quite a lot right in this scenario.  Unfortunately what I did wrong turned out to be utterly catastrophic.  Here I command the brave, if somewhat chilly, alpini of the Tridentina as they attempt to break out of the Soviet encirclement after the Battle of Stalingrad developed in a manner not necessarily in their favour.  To win I have to clear the Soviet defenders from a village, specifically I need to ensure there are no good order non-crew Soviet MMC within five hexes of 44Q5 and 12Q5.  This effectively means taking out the lot unless the defender makes an absolute pigs breakfast of their deployment.

The Italians it must be said have provided their best.  I command a dozen elite squads and five more first line bullet catchers.  These units have two mmgs, three lmgs and a DC, they are commanded by four officers and General Reverberi.  Let's take a moment to examine General Reverberi, a mighty 10-2 he dominates the battlefield. Italian units with a line of sight to his august presence have their morale and ELR increased by one.  Also once in the game assuming Reverberi is still up and functioning the Axis player (me) may declare his units fanatic for the rest of that player turn.  Supporting the Tridentina's despairing charge is a battery of Italian artillery firing off its last rounds and some German armour somewhat reluctantly helping their allies escape the mess they had been dropped into.  Two PzIVHs, a couple of second hand French Renault 35Rs and a pair of PSW222(L) armoured cars provide some extra punch for the desperate alpini.

My opponent Dave commands the Soviets who having captured the only shelter for miles around are disinclined to let it go without a fight.  Dave's force comes in two packets.  Entrenched along a railway embankment are five squads (two first line and three conscript) along with a pair of lmgs and a single 8-0 leader.  In the village proper are eleven and a half more squads; one and a half elite, six first line and four conscript.  They have a hmg, three lmgs, a pair of 50mm mortars an antitank rifle and two 45LL anti tank guns.  They are led by a 9-1 and an 8-1 but their principle motivation is a desire not to sleep on the open steppe in midwinter.  Circling above is air support in the form of one FB without bombs.  It will leave after three turns.

By SSR I could designate a certain amount of my at start force to come on later from a flanking position to hopefully catch the Soviets out of position.  I allocated four elite squads, an 8-1, 7-0 plus an lmg and the DC to this critical role.

Below is the at start set up.  My first objective was to clear the railway embankment.  I wanted to do it fast and without much in the way of casualties.  I would throw virtually my entire armoured force at the defenders and follow up with troops inspired by Reverberi's electrifying presence.  That presence almost vanished immediately when Dave's sniper killed the 9-1 commanding a pair of mmg squads  literally right next to him causing me a near heart attack.  If Reverberi doesn't survive the game the objectives are changed to "within seven hexes" of the victory locations.  Despite Reverberi's presence both squads failed their LLMC and I had two elite squads and an officer down before the fighting really began.

At start.  Dave has his 9-1 and a hmg team in the steeple which is the only level 2 location on the board

Despite my sniper induced coronary things went almost disturbingly well in that first turn.  My tanks rolled up on to his foxholes locking his troops in terrified impotence as my alpini rushed up, fixed bayonets and plunged into CC.  I took prisoners at every opportunity (conscripts were too tempting to resist) as I didn't want Dave low crawling his broken vermin away from me.  This would come back to bite me later.  By the end of the Soviet first turn I had wiped out his embankment force and was looking towards the village proper.  His hmg team had been largely stymied by intervening buildings so far but I would need to cross some open ground now.

So far so good. Now for the difficult bit

Reverberi successfully rallied one of my broken squads and I started to move into the village proper.  Dave had a squad and lmg in forward building to the left so I sent three regular squads and a Renault to deal with it.  The Renault sleazed it and then waited patiently, engine running, while my squads got into a position to place fire on it.  

Dave had revealed (and broken) one of his 45mm pointing down a street I needed to run up.  He repaired the gun on the next rally phase which was annoying.  I pushed forward some squads into the village skipping through conveniently placed armoured cars until I met his first line of resistance, a 9-1 with an elite squad and atr. Suddenly my armoured cars looked vulnerable.  I had already got a bit strung out, this was hardly a wave of Italian troops slamming into the enemy, it was more like a steady trickle but at least I was getting somewhere. I rolled the second Renault up in support.  Over on the left I had sent both PzIVs to start dealing with the troops in the church.  I had plans of covering the hmg team in smoke to allow my troops more freedom to move.  That plan died when Dave revealed his other 45mm and suddenly my PzIVs had their own problem.

Pushing somewhat incoherently forward

I had not yet got a critical mass of infantry forward to attack the village (what is a critical mass? Is it a service by a bad tempered priest?) but I attempted to probe with an armoured car an attempt which was stopped when Dave probed right back with an atr.  His recently repaired atg immobilised the supporting Renault and things were looking a little problematic on the right.  I called in my artillery more in the hope than the expectation and they responded by dropping a spotting round behind their own infantry.  Over on the left my PzIV had broken his guncrew and removed one at least notional threat.  Oh yes and Dave's air support turned up, suddenly crossing open ground had become even more hazardous.

Suddenly things have become more difficult

Despite the fact that General Reverberi was bravely hiding in a foxhole in the rear I attempted to press forward with my attack.  I corrected my artillery and brought down a 70mm concentration which hit friend and foe alike.  I think you can guess what happened here.  My guys broke under the metal rain while Dave's 9-1 atg team laughed at such inconveniences.  Speaking of inconveniences it turns out that being machine gunned by aircraft is quite the inconvenience.  A couple of my squads managed to get forward but the end of the turn saw several of the travelling in the other direct stumbling under the burden of blue & white DM counters.  Dave's atg also managed to take out my remaining armoured car although it bounced several shells off my immobilised Renault.  Renault may not have made great tanks and they certainly didn't make fast tanks but they definitely made solid tanks.  To add insult to injury the three squads that were trying to take out Dave's lmg squad only managed a casualty reduction in CC and the melee raged on.  My PzIV took his hmg team under fire without result.

Well there has been a little go forward but three broken units cringe under the dubious guidance of my 7-0

I finally managed to resolve the CC on the left in my favour.  Little did I know that would be the high water mark of my infantry efforts on the left.  My tanks suffered a series of, ahem, mechanical issues.  One broke its CMG, the other broke both the CMG and the BMG next turn it would break its MA into the bargain.  Dave rallied his gun crew and remanned the 45mm.  Things were now looking a little awkward.  Although not as far as Dave was concerned, as with most things its all a matter of perspective.

The attack seems to have stalled somewhat

My turn four arrived and despite the disappointments of the previous turn I felt I was ready to move.  I also had no choice as my reinforcements turned up this turn regardless of the battlefield situation.  My brave immobilised Renault finally met a fiery end but I managed to push a few squads forward to bulk up my force pressing towards the village (pressing towards the village/cringing in houses, as I say its all a matter of perspective).  On the left, freed from the constraints of close combat my three squads and their accompanying Renault pushed forward, one occupied a building next to the graveyard.  The other hopped the wall and sought shelter amongst the tombstones. This turned out to be a mistake as they were broken but at least it could be said they were going forward.  Dave's church dwellers were now menaced if that's the right word (it isn't) by a pair of squads and a pair of tanks albeit with sadly reduced firepower.  The time had come for my masterstroke.  I had selected my reinforcements to come on on the top left so they could hit the church from another direction and hopefully overwhelm Dave's defences.  I sent a pair of half squads forward first to draw the fire of the defenders and with that done charged a stack of three led by an 8-1 to race up, safe from enemy fire and truly put the squeeze on.  Can anybody tell me what I had forgotten boys and girls?  That's right; Dave's air support!  It was really adding insult to injury when Dave rolled a three on his 8-2 point attack.  Three squads and a leader were reduced to a single disrupted half squad.  It has to be admitted that I really suck at this game.

Well that was a chastening experience

There was a brief pause as two million years of evolution disintegrated in a microsecond and I was reduced to a sobbing ape howling anguish while Dave looked the other away and put everything with a sharp edge out of reach.  Having unsuccessfully attempted to impale myself on my dice cup I returned to the game.

There were a couple of minor compensations.  Dave managed to break the 45mm near the church.  Over on the right Dave pulled back his atr team but I managed to break and disrupt the squad on the way in my first real triumph since the first turn.  I was slowly incrementing a serious force in front of the village which was good because over on the left things had gone to crap.  I still had a halfsquad and a DC toting 7-0 of my reinforcements threatening, if that's the right word (it isn't) his church dwellers and I attempted to patch an attack together out of the wreckage.

There is a certain amount of go forward but not enough

The attack didn't really happen although I managed to get a couple of halfsquads forward.  I'm not entirely sure what I was trying to do as they didn't have the muscle to achieve anything.  I suspect I was just trying to do something.  Dave's hmg team broke one of the first line squads who were supposedly attacking from the bottom left and everything settled into surly impotence.  General Reverberi finally mustered up the courage to join his men in the village bringing hope and enthusiasm to any who didn't know the true situation although a sniper managed to break a medium machine gun squad right next to him.  Dave's sniper seemed to chase Reverberi around the board never quite hitting him but keeping me teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown for most of the game.  

Disaster on the left but Reverberi is among his troops. The Italians are saved! Spoiler alert, no they're not

For my second (and as it turned out, last) artillery mission I targeted the church.  What I thought I was going to achieve against troops in stone I don't know, possibly (definitely) I was running out of options.  Once again the spotting round landed behind my troops.  Then disaster struck (again!) on the left.  The prisoners held by the squad broken by his hmg slaughtered their guards and seized their weapons.  Strangely it was this particular disaster that would lose me the game.  A conscript half squad didn't seem like too much of a threat particularly when I had a full squad next door.  Sadly said squad proved to be incapable of hitting a barn from inside it.  Then Dave's sniper bored with terrifying Reverberi wandered over and broke them.  Suddenly the victory locations I had captured at the beginning of the game were under threat and I had virtually nothing to protect them.  Incidentally the CC in the graveyard represents another attempt by prisoners to brutalise their guards.

Oh dear

Despairing of doing anything useful with his atg Dave had decided on another use for his crew.  He moved it into CC with my 7-0 who had been cowering inoffensively in a patch of woods.  It survived the first round of CC albeit wounded.  With few other options I dropped artillery fire on both of them.  The combined firepower of my PzIVs had finally broken him hmg team and things would have been looking good in the church if they weren't looking so damned bad.  On the right I was pushing slowly forward and I pulled out a PzIV to support them.  Reverberi had the bit between his teeth now and was encouraging his troops on even as his left flank folded around him.  In a futile attempt to deal with his recently recuperated half squad I sent a half squad of my own back with an mmg.  The rest kept pressing forward.  Time was running out but so were Dave's defences.

Things are advancing in the village but I have no answer to what is about to happen on the left

My artillery fire killed his guncrew while my wounded 7-0 took the opportunity to battle harden into a heroic 8-0.  How nice that would have been if it was in anyway useful.  Dave's ex-prisoners did indeed begin to make their slow but unopposed way to my rear and, with no infantry in their path to prevent them his mortar team in the graveyard dropped their useless ironmongery and headed in the same direction.  I knew it was over but I tried my last.  At around about this point my surviving Renault managed to score a critical hit on some of the church defenders which at least reduced the number of good order squads in residence.

My mmg team has been utterly unable to slow the progress of his conscripts and now they have friends

The last despairing charge was everything a last despairing charge should be.  Hyped up by Reverberi's enthusiasm (and I suspect PCP) my Italians charged forward into fire.  Casualties were ghastly bodies fell left and right but one squad got into one of Dave's two remaining buildings and Reverberi himself led a newly minted hero into CC in the other.  Over on the left the Renault smashed its way into the church (I told you they were solid) and a PzIV brought his remaining defenders under fire.  In a despairing throw of the dice I sent the other PzIV chasing his squads in my backfield to no avail.  That was it.  My surviving troops in the village might have survived the next turns CC, my Renault and PzIV might have broken his last squad in the church but there was nothing I could do about the troops he had in my rear.  I gave Dave the concession.  I almost won this.  If not for a little bad luck and a lot of stupefying incompetence I might have done so.  Dave and I both enjoyed this game immensely.  It is a little pro-Italian (as witness my almost victory) but nothing that the balance shouldn't deal with.  Heartily recommend, would be defeated again.

Tenente di Tartarughe-Ninja brushed more snow off his hand and watched as another finger dropped off.  They had almost made it but almost didn't cut it and now they were doomed to die in this bleak, frozen land.  A ragged, starving Hungarian artilleryman approached him and begged him for food.  Di Tartarughe-Ninja gave him the finger.

Travelling Pathetically - Monitors plus a Sphinx

 After my reptile laden triumph around Greys Point I cast about for something slightly more strenuous and came up with a walking track to Bobbin Head from North Turramurra.  For those who don't know Bobbin Head is essentially a car park for boats (boat park?) in Kuringai National Park because nothing says back to nature like covering every piece of flat water with pleasure boats.  North Turramurra peters out reluctantly into bushland and if one abandons the last road one can plunge into the untamed bush and head towards that symbol of the wild, a marina.  Of course the term "untamed bush" is a relative term, relatively inaccurate in this case.  I'm not saying its the most tamed bush I've ever seen but the loop walk I was doing didn't actually involve using a machete to hack your way through the unyielding wilderness. You did have to get past a sphinx in order to start your walk though.  Alternatively you can drive to Bobbin Head as a road snakes through to allow boat owners to access their charges.  Not owning a boat I decided that walking was for me.  Well, catching a bus, the metro, another bus and then walking a kilometre or so brought me to my start point.  After that walking was for me once I had sneaked past the sphinx.

About the sphinx, see photo below.  It sits in a little bit of manicured parkland just inside the national park boundaries ferociously guarding the firetrails and bush tracks I would be walking along.  Apparently Parks & Wildlife are serious about protecting their interests.

A small but definite sphinx

The sphinx might need a little explanation so here it is.  At the end of the First World War a soldier (and former stonemason) by the name of William Shirley returned suffering from tuberculosis.  He was hospitalised just on the edge of what is now the national park.  Feeling the need to occupy his hours while he (to put it bluntly) died he carved possibly the most unique memorial to his fellow soldiers who had died in battle.  It is apparently a one eightieth copy of the sphinx at Giza which Shirley had seen while training in Egypt.  Although I don't recall the original having quite such a cheery grin.  It took him a while as he was only permitted to work a couple of hours each day (strangely inhaling stone dust isn't good for tuberculosis sufferers) but nevertheless he completed it although sadly he was too ill to attend the dedication and died shortly afterwards.  

Having answered the requisite riddle I set out on my journey.  The first part was along a firetrail which I never particularly like because it is essentially just walking down a dirt road with trees on either side.  My trail map app promised me that it would develop into a proper bush track in the fullness of time so I persevered.  

A solid wall of noise hit me as I set forth.  Cicadas were going nuts and the volume had to be heard to be believed.  I saw very few birds that day which I attribute to the fact that the cicadas had dragged them all down an alley and beaten them to death.  I did notice that the cicada noise dipped slightly as I approached, if they were trying to pretend they weren't there they were doing a lousy job of it.

A firetrail, hardly inspiring

I plodded along the fire trail trying to pretend I was enjoying myself.  The sun was shining and I was going slightly deaf from the relentless cicada assault.  Still I did manage to snap an entrant into the Clare McIntyre Memorial Fungus awards as below.

A long way from water but going strong

A fungus photo always cheers me up.  In some ways its disturbing to be so easy to please, in another it's a blessing.  With refreshed eyes I gazed around at the bush lurking discreetly on either side of the fire trail.  A portion of the bush moved slightly so I looked a little closer.  A decent sized lizard was sunning itself by the side of the trail, taking advantage of the uninterrupted access to the sun that the fire trail provided.

Quite a handsome devil really

I pushed my luck trying to get a little closer and he decided to sunbathe somewhere else

With the lizard having slowly but effectively made itself scarce I was reduced to photographing trees and another fungus entrant.

This is a tree

and this is an albino fungus, note the subtle differences

I had been going gradually but definitely upward which was odd because water is usually downward.  Of course the ascent had been cunningly contrived so that there would be a subsequent descent in order to approach the water followed by yet another ascent to get back to my starting point.  In order to encourage me along attractive views of the as yet distant water were provided to ensure that I didn't just turn around and slink back to the sphinx in shame.

There's a marina down there but fortunately the trees are hiding most of it

The day had turned grey and overcast while remaining hot and I started to get a little nervous about the possibility of rain.  The fire trail started heading in a pleasingly downward direction and I looked forward to getting up close and personal with whatever water was playing host to a bunch of boats.  Along the way I took a photo of the cutest fungus I ever did see.

A little flowery fungus

Finally I was able to abandon the fire trail for a more traditional bush track which promised to lead me towards the water.  Just to prove that point views of boats under which there was, presumably, water started presenting themselves as I headed down.  The cicadas roared enthusiastically as I padded along and I was started to fear I might come out of this walk seriously deaf.

Where there are boats there is usually water

I finally made it down to water level and walked along what I believe is Cowan Creek.  If you follow the creek along far enough you will hit the Hawkesbury River, at least you will if you travel in the right direction.  My path was in the opposite direction and I busied myself taking photos of the creek while skillfully excluding any boats.

And here is the aforementioned water

 The title of this blog entry implied monitors and believe me I don't intend to disappoint.  Well no more than I usually disappoint my nearest and dearest.  The path followed the creek edge, in fact in some of the soggier bits its entirely possible that the path was the creek edge.  As I walked along the creek edge I almost walked into a monitor.  It too was walking down the path alongside the creek.  It was travelling in the same direction as I was so I got a bunch of photos of the back of a monitor.

The back of a monitor

The same back of the same monitor

Finally it realised that I was walking faster that it was and somewhat reluctantly conceded me the path enabling me to take a side on photo as well.

The side of the same monitor

Quite giddy on a surfeit of monitor photos I continued on along delighted to be away from the fire trail.

This is more like it

I paused long enough to take an atmospheric photo of the creekside, considering its width I think it could successfully apply for river status but apparently I don't make those decisions.

This is apparently a creek

With my photo taken I hustled along.  Although I didn't know it I had a date with another monitor.

Yes, this handsome fellow

Incidentally I don't know why I assigned a masculine gender to this particular monitor, just another instance of the patriarchy at work I suppose.  This monitor was strolling through the bush beside the path tongue flickering, presumably looking for food.  Either that or she was telling me what she thought of me for misgendering her.  I took a bunch of blurry photos trying to get one with the tongue out which I finally managed to achieve.  Apparently this was all she wanted as with that photo taken she turned her back on me and rapidly moved out of camera shot.

I've never seen a yellow tongue on a monitor before

With my monitor cup running over I headed back towards the sphinx which hadn't changed particularly much in the time I was away.  With my walk completed I left the national park and made my way to somewhere an uber driver might be able to pick me up without running over monitors on the way.  As mentioned there was very little in the way of bird life, not even the ubiquitous brush turkey put in an appearance.  Apparently to redress this oversight a brush turkey hastily dashed out from the bush and disported itself on the pavement next to a rather well frequented road for the sole purpose of getting me to take a photo of it.

Thanks for the consideration

I thanked the brush turkey profusely and made my way home.  The photos taken the brush turkey promptly took itself off back to the bush with a sense of relief.

Silly After Action Report - Penny Packets

 "It's not fair," muttered a surly looking soldier as he peered through the falling snow from behind a half track, "I'm not a nobody.  I'm a gefreiter for God's sake.  I deserve to be mentioned by name."

"Don't get upset about it," replied his companion, "after all most of the people who get mentioned by name in these blog entries don't exactly do well."

"It's about recognition," snapped the gefreiter, "an acknowledgement of our value and the fact that we are individuals with names, personalities, hopes and ambitions.  I am not just 'a gefreiter' I have a name!"  He gave his companion a challenging look, "Do you know my name?"  Caught off guard his companion hesitated.

"Um sure, I think.  Aren't you, ahh no, sorry, no idea."

"My name is Hans-Adam Ketterl," shouted the gefreiter at the top of his voice and stomped off towards the front of the line kicking occasionally at the snow.  His attention drawn by the sudden noise a leutnant poked his head around the rear of the halftrack.

"Who the hell is making all that noise?"

"Oh just some gefreiter."

At this point you could be forgiven for thinking I've run out of intros for these after action reports.  I like to think of it as giving the rankers their day in the sun or rather snow.  At Dave's request we played scenario J142 - Penny Packets which sees a somewhat random selection of German armour plus the brave volksgrenadiers of the 26th advancing against American positions near Bastogne.  The Americans scramble to throw whatever they can get their hands on in the path of the Germans.  Snow is falling and in the distance can be heard the sound of a terminally underappreciated gefreiter muttering to himself.  Victory is measured by CVP and in addition to hurting Americans the Germans also gain VP by exiting off the west edge of the board.

I have an all arms (and quite a few legs) assault force consisting of a dozen squads evenly split between elite and first line urged on by a trio of officers including a capable 9-1. They have a heavy machine gun and a pair of mediums plus three light machine guns and two panzerschrecks.  On turn 3 I would receive six more first line squads as reinforcements.  Joining the volksgrenadiers on turn one is a mess of light armour including two armoured cars with 20mm guns, two halftracks carrying 75mm guns and a halftrack with a halfsquad of passengers and an unassuming AAMG that can be unloaded as another HMG.  On turn 2 these are backed up by a PzIVJ, a pair of StuGIIIGs and a Wirbelwind tank with quad 20mm producing a staggering 20 IFE firepower.

Dave for his part is thinly stretched at the beginning with only six squads, three first line and three second with a pair of MMGs and a couple of bazookas.  He also has a pair of Sherman tanks and three M7 SP guns.  By SSR if Dave so chooses he can at the start of his Prep Fire phase remove concealment from said M7s and place a TI counter on them.  In return he gains 2CVP.  Dave decided he preferred to keep concealment.  Dave also gets three groups of reinforcements; a clutch of M3 halftracks along with six more squads, another group of halftracks (including a pair of M16 meatchoppers) and finally on turn three four M5 light tanks.

Below is the at start set up.  My motley collection of halftracks and armoured cars would enter (cautiously) on the north east edge.  I was uneasily aware that the large concealment marker probably indicated a Sherman (correct) but there was nothing for it.  As you can guess from the below I had the bulk of my force set up hoping to plough through the northern woods for an exit victory while a smaller force in the centre would see what they could do to occupy Dave's attention in that region.

Set up.  Dave can be blamed for the lack of atmospheric snow setting

I pushed my infantry forward, the guys in the north creeping through the woods and their compatriots in the centre spreading out and trying not to make targets of themselves.  Then came the vehicles where I attempted the difficult feat of bringing on a group of vehicles while simultaneously avoiding the line of sight of the Sherman gazing down the board.  There was one exception, a halftrack mounting a 75mm which I risked sending across to support my centre infantry.  Dave took a shot and the mask was dropped, there was a Sherman in all its glory.  He labelled it Kickass which was unfortunate in retrospect.

Most of my vehicles are lurking on the sidelines terrified by a single Sherman

In his turn Dave took a bold move.  Seeing the gaggle of light armour milling about at the other end of the board he roared Kickass forward in the hopes of inflicting mass slaughter on the thin skinned vehicles.  Desperate times call for desperate measures.  The 20mm cannon on my PSW 234s qualified (just barely) for deliberate immobilisation.  In my next turn I offered up a prayer to the dice gods and attempted to immobilise Kickass.  I rolled snake eyes and suddenly Kickass's crew was fleeing their crippled tank before the unbelieving eyes of my light armour who had already started letters to their families.  On a somewhat saner level Dave moved his M7s behind a hedge sheltered by his infantry to create a gunline which would cause me serious issues.

With immobilising his Sherman as a starting point my second turn went well, my infantry in the centre pushed forward and I sent the halftrack with the hmg over to help out.  My troops in the north pushed cautiously through the trees while down in the south my pair of StuGs rolled on to deal with the other Sherman which had rolled forward to take up a position behind a convenient hedge.

End of my second turn

Little did I know that the seeds of my defeat had been sown.  The simple truth was I was being too cautious.  Mindful of the CVP rules I was edging slowly forwards fearful of risks, particularly in the north but also in the centre which gave Dave's reinforcements time to arrive and bolster his defences.  Already by the end of his second turn his halftracks had rolled on to thicken out his gun line and give a little more backup to his infantry.  

I was finally gripped by a sense of urgency.  I rolled a couple of support vehicles over to help my infantry in the centre which had so far achieved nothing except avoiding getting killed.  Once there they succeeded in driving American infantry from their defences leaving my infantry nothing to do except move forward and mop up.  Well move forward through the concentrated firepower of M7s, halftracks and such of his infantry as had survived  This proved problematic at best.

 

So finally starting to get somewhere

I was finally taking the chances I should have taken at the beginning when the Americans had much less firepower on the board.  As a result I took the commensurate casualties, a 75mm halftrack was destroyed by an M7 as it crossed the road and my wirbelwind contributed to the Allied cause by rolling boxcars on its first shot of the day.  I was going forward but Dave's main defences hadn't been scratched and now my casualties started to mount.

I've waited too long and the mountain is getting harder to climb

Things weren't helped when his remaining Sherman scored a possible shock on one of my StuGs which in the fullness of time became absolutely shocked, unconfirmed killed and most definitely killed.  A whole bunch of German reinforcements came on apparently for the sole purpose of proving that they wouldn't be able to get anywhere useful before the game ended.  To be fair the game ended a little earlier than they were anticipating.  

Now somewhat desperate I pushed my PzIV forward in the north.  Dave had brought on one of his M5s to bolster his infantry defences.  I looked at the armour on my PzIV and thought I could take the risk.  Dave proved me wrong by promptly immobilising the thing.  Furthermore he immobilised it in a position where it was unlikely to take any further part in proceedings.  The crew fled the vehicle and were promptly gunned down.  That was pretty much it.  My armour had been reduced to a single StuG and a dwindling number of very thin skinned support vehicles and Dave's defences were very much intact.  Not even my surviving StuG taking revenge by killing his remaining Sherman could counter the general situation and I gave Dave the concession rather than suffer a long, lingering death.

The end, both Shermans are gone but that's about it for good news

I have to admit I was disappointed in my performance in this scenario.  Which is one reason why it took me over a month to write this AAR.  Certainly after Dave ran one of his Shermans into harms way early on in the piece the scenario was there for me to win and I botched it by simple cowardice and refusal to take risks until too late in the day when the risks had become decidedly greater.  Congratulations to Dave who (one Sherman related piece of insanity notwithstanding) played a skillful defensive game but serious demerits to me for not even making the game competitive.

A gaggle of disconsolate German prisoners barely looked up when an American soldier ordered them to their feet.  The exception was a sole gefreiter who leapt up eyes gleaming.

"I'll bet you want to know my rank and my name," he said eagerly.

"Nope," replied the American.  "couldn't give damn.  Just get your ass to the rear with the rest of them."

The column of prisoners, including a bitterly sobbing gefreiter, marched slowly westward.  From a nearby hill a pair of German officers watched it through binoculars.

"Hans-Adam seems a bit upset," commented one to his comrade.

"All the Ketterls are a bit temperamental," replied the other.  "Runs in the family I believe.  Everybody knows the Ketterls have a low boiling point."

Birthday Greetings # 86

 So what do you do if you wind up as the ruler of a nation so small that you could cast a handkerchief across it?  Such was the dilemma that faced Bernard VII the Bellicose when he inherited the lordship of Lippe at the age of nearly one.  To be fair he probably didn't start considering the issue until a few years latter.  The epithet he was awarded gives you some indication of how he solved his problem.  Lippe was one of those tiny little statelets of the Holy Roman Empire that had been carved out of a larger entity whose ruler had got on the wrong side of the emperor.  Over the years the territory of Lippe was divided between various sub branches of the family, reunited when certain branches undertook a little constructive incest or did the decent thing and died out entirely and were divided once again when a new bunch of descendants were produced who all needed titles and approximately fifteen square feet of territory to rule.  It was this peculiarity of inheritance that made the Holy Roman Empire not so much a nation as a geo-political kaleidescope.

At its largest point Lippe was about 50km east to west and roughly the same north/south.  So Lippe was obviously a genuine economic and military powerhouse able to raise whole dozens of soldiers to serve in its wars.  They certainly got their share of experience under Bernard VII's rule.  While rumours that he punched the Price Bishop of Liege in the face when asked what he was going to do when he grew up are probably unfounded it cannot be denied that from the moment he took control of his handful of square kilometres of dirt farmers he got into feud after feud.  "Feuds" incidentally was what wars were called when the participants were too small and insignificant to have their squabbles dignified with the term "war".  Kings and princes had wars; counts, knights and local bishops had feuds.  Peasants died whatever the terminology.

Over the course of an eighty year reign Bernard managed to ally with the Landgrave of Lower Hesse against that worthy's brother and then allied with his own brother against the Landgrave of Lower Hesse.  On one occasion one of these feuds got seriously out of control and some of his enemies called in a Bohemian army (Bohemia then being a significant territory and a serious player in imperial politics).  The Bohemians then ravaged Lippe (which must have taken all of twenty five minutes) and levelled the town of Blomberg.  Bernard apparently wasn't present at the time.

Eventually most of these feuds got patched up.  At some point somebody would complain to the emperor and he would tell everybody to calm down.  They almost never did but resorted to the courts instead.  Warfare was never absent from the Holy Roman Empire but neither was lawfare and most rulers considered themselves unqualified if they couldn't conduct both simultaneously.  In between fighting with virtually everyone he ever met our birthday boy somehow found the time to get married and have seven children.  Strangely there were some bits of Lippe left for them to inherit once Bernard went off to quarrel with God (to take an extremely optimistic view on where he wound up in the afterlife).

Travelling Pathetically - Wacking Big Monitor Lizard Edition

 Well I guess the title spoils the surprise.  I'll just have to see how much padding I can insert before we get to the big reveal.  A slightly more adventurous outing in my ongoing attempts to decripple myself.  I headed down to Gray's Point to wander into the fringes of the Royal National Park.  Gray's Point is on the outskirts of Sydney in much the same way as Paris is on the outskirts of London.  Having taken two buses and a taxi simply to arrive at my starting point I was wondering if I would ever make it home even before beginning my walk.  The walk itself was nothing too strenuous, a six and a half kilometre round trip but there would be a certain amount of up and down.  At least I assumed there would be as at some point I would reach the Hacking River which, not being immediately present at my starting point, implied a certain amount of down.

A modest beginning

It has to be said the beginning of the walk was underwhelming as I entered the untamed bush courtesy of a fire trail.  I'm not crazy about walking along firetrails, I like the bush to be a little closer and if possible shielding me from the sun.  Still having committed myself I dutifully set out along what was essentially a well maintained road.  The day was warm and to stave off boredom if not heat exhaustion I took photos of random bits of bushland from my secure position in the middle of a strip of bare earth.

Things improved a bit as a narrow path paralleling the firetrail presented itself for my walking pleasure.  It was essentially a footpath and hardly rough going but at least I could reach out and touch the trees rather than merely view them from a distance.  The path justified its existence when it diverted briefly to take me to a lookout where I could gaze over the bush with glimpses of river lurking promisingly amongst the undergrowth.  Delight at such a sight was moderated by the knowledge that I would have to travel over the bush in order to reach the river.

There's a river down there somewhere

One thing that had occupied me was the lack of birds.  OK I had essentially been walking down a street but still the absence of flying things vexed me.  I paused for a rest, I had after all been walking for at least ten minutes by this time, and took out my camera to photograph a piece of bush.  Completely uninvited a very small bird photobombed my picture.  If you can't find it, it's the small smudge of blue in the middle of the next picture.  It's hardly a great photo but those birds flit about so much I've never been able to take even a halfway decent one before.

You may need to zoom in for this one

The firetrail came to an end just at the official start of the National Park.  Up until now the bush had been walking through had been unofficial and definitely not royal at all.  I walked past a small patch of spear grass adorned with a sign informing those who cared to read that this particular plant was vital to the local indigenous people who apparently used it for spears (obviously), firelighters, boat repair, refrigerator maintenance and as the basis of their space programme.  My own experience with spear grass being limited to a childhood encounter when I had grabbed a bunch to stop me falling and had wound up with interestingly red hands I gave it a wide berth and kept on walking.

With the bush now immediately present rather than viewed from a distance I was able to take a photo of the Clare McIntyre memorial fungus.  It wasn't a particularly good example if I'm being honest, it was rather desperate and scraggly looking.  Possibly it can gain a mention in the special needs section of the competition.

Distinctly disheveled fungus

Now that the firetrail was a thing of the past I couldn't help but notice a general downward trajectory in my path.  Somewhere down there was a river and I was determined to reach it.

Obviously the river was insinuating itself into the narrative and it seems like a good time to give you a few historical facts.  The Hacking River was named after Evangeline Hacking a young lady of good breeding who had been exiled to the New South Wales colony after embarrassing her family by cavorting with one of her servants during a family game of blind mans bluff.  Once here she met and swiftly married Lord Rupert Cough and became Lady Hacking-Cough.  Lord Rupert was an entomologist who had come to these shores to study both the colony's varied insect life and the effects of a hot sun on a latex fetish.  Soon their outrageous lifestyle shocked public sensitivities so greatly that the couple fled to Argentina where they opened a brothel and set up an aardvark farm.  One of the conditions of their departure from the colony was that a river be named after them and the authorities picked the most remote one they could find at the time to honour their pledge.  This is the sort of gem you just don't find in history books.

But back to the walk.  As I said I was going down, down is always pleasant although it is tempered by the knowledge that if you're going down then at some point you will have to start going up.  Unless you want to spend the rest of your life there.  Along the way I took a picture of some photogenic bush because these things I do.

Photogenic bush, sunlight etc etc

A small creek stopped and posed for a photo as I passed.  It seemed a little needy quite frankly but it begged and trickled so nicely that I indulged it.  I'm a pushover for a needy creek.  In return it directed me to a somewhat more acceptable candidate for the Clare McIntyre prize.

A needy creek

And a somewhat more impressive looking fungus

Leaving the creek behind, despite it's desperate cries, I headed on down towards the river.  The first thing I encountered when I reached it was a car park.  The second thing I encountered was a bunch of people fishing.  That was a slight let down it has to be admitted.  After traipsing through the bush I came across a bunch of people who arrived at the same location in air conditioned comfort.  On the other hand I took photos of ducks.  As you do.  And the most impressive fungus yet.

Duck!

Now that is a fungus

And these are more ducks

And finally the oft mentioned but rarely seen river

The river was indeed appealing and the presence of people fishing held out the hope that aquatic life abounded beneath the surface, at least until these people finished fishing.  But I turned my back, not for me hanging around with other human beings on a well mowed piece of riverbank.  I plunged back into the bush, for about thirty seconds until I realised that I had to walk along the access road if I wanted to continue my journey.  Sheepishly I slunk back past the fishers who were very kind and kept their sniggers to a minimum.  What the access road accessed was another patch of riverbank also populated by fishers, picnickers and general recreaters.  As I approached a ghastly noise assaulted my ears.

"Ah," I thought, "cockatoos".  Just for once I was right.  How many cockatoos there were I couldn't tell but from a distance it sounded like power saws were being used to conduct a massacre.  I paused amidst the cacophony to take the cockatoo photos that I assumed would be available.  A solitary cockatoo detached itself from the noise and took up a position where pictures were possible.

Aforementioned cockatoo

in flight

With the photos taken and my ears bleeding I stumbled away from the plaza of noise following, at last, a track through the bush which would in the fullness of time lead back to my starting point.  Kookaburras made their presence felt but too high up in the trees for good photos.  Below is the best of the bad photos.

Kookaburras on a branch

After skillfully avoiding high velocity kookaburra shit I headed on down the path where the trees had gathered close to produce a sort of glade effect.  Sunlight and shadow alternated in patches and a small trickle of water had produced a shaded, if somewhat smelly, pond roughly where the path might be if there wasn't a pond in the way.  The day was hot and this area was cool and I paused to take stock, catch my breath and generally convince my body to keep stumbling on for a little while longer.  I was just about to leave when a rustle in the bushes caught my ear.  Actually it wasn't a rustle, it was more of a stamping crunch.  I stared and before my startled eyes a reptile head appeared.  After a while a certain amount of reptile body joined it.  By implication there was almost certainly a reptile tail in the vicinity but I couldn't see that.  A large lizard shouldered its way through the bushes and stuck its head out.  I'm calling it a monitor but in actual fact I have no idea what it was.

Also I say large; large is a relative term.  As reptiles go it was quite tiny by comparison with say dinosaurs or crocodiles but by comparison with the cute little lizards you get in your garden it was freaking immense.  It also didn't seem to mind posing for the camera.  Unfortunately the sun dappled glade I had been enjoying just a second ago now worked against me.  The monitor's colouration seemed perfectly designed to conceal it in, for example, a sun dappled glade.  I took a large number of not terribly good photos.  One or two turned out all right but in most you have to look hard for the monitor before realising this was a photo you took before the monitor presented itself.  Apparently understanding my difficulty the monitor left its perch and wandered down to the path itself to pose for more photos while fossicking for something edible which it apparently found for it wandered off again with something large hanging from its mouth which I earnestly hope was organic and not plastic.

A sun dappled glade.  No there isn't a monitor in this photo, he's somewhere off to the left

There is however a monitor in this photo

And this one

And this one

And this one

And this one

And this one

It's fair to say I went a little overboard with the monitor photos but I've never seen such a large one in the wild before and particularly not one so accommodating towards photos.  By the end of it I was suffering from reptilian overdose.  As I left I passed a much smaller lizard sunning itself on a rock and I took a few photos all of which were terrible.  I blamed the sun but user error is the more likely reason.  This lizard would probably fit in the monitor's forearm.

A small and badly photographed lizard

I still had a couple of kilometres to walk including an unexpected reunion with the river when I took a wrong turn and some gasping and scrambling as the path took a sudden left turn to climb several contour lines close to simultaneously in a desperate attempt to return me to the altitude I had started at.  I didn't care, well I did at the time because I was exhausted but I didn't care in the larger scheme of things.  Nothing could beat the monitor on this walk and best of all my knee behaved itself and didn't present any more than the standard "you're unfit and you did exercise you stupid bastard" pains.  I'm writing this blog entry the next day and my knee is still a little sore but nowhere as bad as I had feared.  Possibly the physio and exercises (yes I'm doing them) are actually doing some good.