Poor

photography, poor lighting, but a table top encounter nonetheless.

Pick up game, in a box:

 

Rules: Cordery out of Morschauser. Gridded battlefield, 8 x 8, 'Frontier/Modern wargames Rules'.

 

The opening scene: Bolsheviks in the distance, Whites nearest the camera. Twelve units each, Reds with a unit of armour, Whites with a unit of field artillery.



 

First shot! White artillery knocks out Red armour. What an opener!

 

Red commander had to be consoled with a jelly baby. See ! The Bolsheviks do eat babies !!

 

One of the built up areas becomes the focus of heavy fighting, with each side attempting to benefit from the points advantages to be gained from defending a built up zone. This focal point becomes a killing zone, with the fortunes of war in the Whites' favour.

 

Above: this blurred aerial photograph shows the Bolshevik command unit realising that the game is up - they only command an m/g unit. Shortly after the photgraph was taken, the Red machine gunners fell.

Endstate. The Whites hold the field, though sorely depleted.

 

 

 

I can't sign off this post without mentioning the jihadi Islamist terror attack in Ottawa. The murder of Cpl. Cirillo at Canada's National War Memorial was a foul attack not just on Canada but on the West as a whole. The only satisfaction to be gained is that it was the Serjeant at Arms, Kevin Vickers, who killed the terrorist. How fitting that someone charged with the defence of a Parliament - that core institution of democracy - should have carried out his duty so well. 

Update...

Mao would have approved of this:

Karl Marx may also have approved of it, but I have no intention of entering into arcane debate about whether the 'younger Marx' would have done so more, or less, than the 'older Marx'. However, Marx's son-in-law, Paul Lafargue, would not. Some years ago my brother-in-law, Ken MacLeod, bought me a copy of Lafargue's opus magnus, The Right to be Lazy, and gave it to me with the comment that Lafargue seemed to have taken his own advice to heart and wrote nothing else but his little peon to idleness. I, on the other hand, have not been able to take the Froggie socialist's advice these past months, as in the new, fresh, globalised world of higher education, 'LABOUR IS GLORIOUS'. Well, actually, it's been more of a case that I have been kept from modelling/toy soldierly things by the first two thirds of the Petainist slogan, Travail, Famille, Patrie. Mind you, I suppose I was increasingly stressed as the United Kingdom hung, for a tense week or so, on the apparent abyss, while the Scots (or, at least, those of them in Scotland, if not in the UK), decided on how to vote with regard to the end, or the continuation, of the UK. Happily (from this blog's perspective) it was UK OK. But, on with the updates...

Firstly, I was able to paint up the latest unit for my Maltovia vs Lovitznia conflict. The new regiment, in French style, can be seen on manouevres:

It looks as if it's the end of a long, hard exercise for these chaps.

Secondly, after many a mishap, I finally managed to complete the Roden offering of the Albatros II:

I won't bore you with all the horrors associated with this kit bash, but to give you the flavour of things - having fixed the wings, I promptly dropped a rather heavy bottle of wash onto the thing, smashing three struts...

 But, all is complete, although I have put away another Albatros model that I had thought might make a twin.

Wrecks...

... and relics.

No, not a post about me, or any other middle-aged wargamer.

Instead; this evening I was walking along my favourite stretch of coastline here in Blighty. It's on the north Norfolk coast - Nelson country. Out from the village of Burnham Overy Staithe, the sea defences stretch as dykes towards the North Sea (the 'German Sea' as it was called for a while, until 1914), with salt marsh, grazing cattle, and an abundance and variety of birds unlike almost anywhere else in England. Given its geographic position, it will not surprise you to hear that the whole coast is littered with the wrecks and relics of Britain's 1940-41 defences. Pillboxes sink into the shingle and sand, everywhere the concrete and stainless steel of Spigot Mortar mounts, even the occasional Allan-Williams' turret survives, and last winter's storms revealed twisted barbed wire stakes. And, this evening, walking away from the sea and the grey-blue clouds, I came across this:

The tail fins of a mortar bomb.

 

Can any well-informed chap out there give me name, rank and number on this relic?

3" mortar bomb? Or something else?

Maltovia...

...Lovitznia....and the wanderings of a middle-aged duffer's mind.

Regular readers of this blog may remember the adventures, in 42mm, of the heroic Maj. Vlasov during the defence of Brnad, ancient border town in Maltovia. Inspired by Biggles, Algy, and Ginger, along with the 'Rattle of Dice' rule set, and old school shiny toy soldiery, the long struggle between those Mitteleuropa enemies continued at the end of the '13 campaigning season on the green felt table top. While on my recent trip of filial devotion, I bought a paperback copy of:

My boyhood copy (second hand in 1970, and, even then, missing its spine) is somewhere in my loft, and, in any case, who could resist the rather splendid tri-motor (SM81?) on the cover of this edition of W.E. Johns' account of the 1930s' clash of Lovitznia and Maltovia.

 

The upshot (appropriately enough) of this re-reading was a quick order to Irregular Miniatures of York for reinforcements in 42mm, but also the extraction of this kit from my stash:

 



 

No direct relation to the Maltovian business, but some to Biggles (Of The Camel Squadron etc), and more evidence of butterfly syndrome. So, this evening, my huge mitts struggled with this:

A nicely rendered engine, but as it is only 20mm in length, and composed of eight parts, you can imagine the Anglo-Saxon at the work bench...

Known Unto God...

'Looking back towards safety from the Auchonvilliers trenches, one daily saw a high crucifix at the end of the town, silvered and silhouetted in the sunset. Before we came away, this sad sculpture had fallen...'

Sea Hurricane...

... end state.

Finally, I've finished the Airfix 1/72 Sea Hurricane IIc in Fleet Air Arm 'Operation Torch' finish. I strongly suspect that the serial number I've used (from the 'Sky' decal sheet) is incorrect, and I'm not sure that I am happy with my choice of greys. The finish should be 'dark sea grey' and 'extra dark sea grey', but, to my ageing eyes that combination looked like having too little contrast. Anyway, it is done:

 

Although the cockpit cover comes in two parts, as they are injection moulded they are too thick to position open, so my careful detailing of the cockpit sides, and the addition of the seat harness, is rather wasted. Oh well.

This past week I have been visiting my aged mother in Dumfries and Galloway - a fine county. As well as bathing in the Irish Sea with my grandson, I also visited the plentiful, but not always interesting, book shops of Wigtown. Despite limiting my purchases (it's the age of austerity, don't you know?), I picked up a very nice copy of this:

The question is, how long can I resist hunting down a kit of the He 112?

Aye, Aye..

... and Yee Haa!

It's hot and humid here in Mercia, Old England. Probably not as hot and humid as it gets in Dixieland, but my thoughts have turned to brown water table top warfare. So, this evening, I dug out these:

 

Balsa and card ironclads for the Confederate States, with:

 

one of Mr Pig's finest resin and metal miniatures, and:

 

a mix of balsa and Pig.

 

Along with two blockade runners.

I played a lot of RFCM 'Hammerin' Iron' in the past, version 1; but this time, I'll be trying out the Mk.II of that rule set. They do say 'a change is as good as a rest'. Well, they did say, in the days when  great aunts hovered on the edges of family groups.