a letter from France

As promised some time ago, I've begun transcribing a small cache of letters I've found from my grandfather, who was serving in the AEF in France during 1917 and 1918, to his sister Dorothea C. Paradise, who was living in England during the war.

There are ten letters: four from 1917, six from 1918, and one written after his return to the United States in 1919. I am dismayed to say that someone has disposed of most of the covers; I have only four, and it is guesswork assigning which goes to which letter. I should, I suppose, have begun with the first in chronological order, but this one was the first that I opened when I found the package, and it starts during an artillery bombardment, just after his position has been bombed by German aircraft, so it seemed the exciting in medias res to start off with.

I've added a few comments after the letter.

*****************************************************************************

[superscript at 90* in the upper corner, presumably as a postscript] 

It is splendid about your new gloves! Bravo!!

Hqrs. 56th Inf. Brig.

A.P.O. 744

October 23, 1918

My dearest Dolly

A Boche has just been overhead dropping bombs on us, so I begin to understand your feelings when they did it to you in London. They are rather dirty beasts, aren't they, although when they brought a prisoner in the other night I didn't feel much but pity for him. He was an Alsatian, the son of a French soldier, with three sisters & a girl in Paris. He was helpless and pathetic & it made me more disgusted than ever with the system that dragged him into this heartless, senseless business. It has seemed more unreal & more amazing since I have been here than it ever did before, & at this moment, when the roar of an artillery operation is going on, I can't realize [?] that it is grown men trying to smash other grown men in the lovely golden woods I looked at today. It is too bad that the spirit has to be born again in just this way. If all this labor had been put into something permanent & constructive, what a wonderful place the world would be to live in?

Just at that moment, they came in with a nice letter from you enclosing a very interesting one from Bob. He writes splendid letters, doesn't he? Well, there are two Paradises now in the arena & one just outside it. I wish he could get an assignment to a regiment, because you really do feel better in this part of the world even though it is very much dirtier & rather more dangerous. I shall send you back Bob's letter, because I have no way of keeping it in this land where you travel with a tooth-brush, & quite soon lose that. It seems incredible that people have houses and can have more than three pairs of shoes & two suits at one time if they want to! I left practically everything I own at La Brosse, which is an exceedingly nice place. Did I tell you that I saw my nice Countess in Paris for a few minutes & had a sad parting with her? We are really very good friends, & I like her a lot. She paid me the great compliment of saying that I was "délicat" & gave me an awfully nice cigarette holder. It was great luck from a selfish point of view, to fall in with the de la Chapelles, because we really saw something of France, & have an open house here whenever we want it. I don't suppose I can ask for leave for some time, now, because they will probably put this division into a more active sector before long.

I am too sleepy to know what I want to say & I think that I shall go to bed, & go on tomorrow. We shall probably get retaliation for this artillery fire pretty soon & I had better get my sleep now. Good night, my dear.

The next morning

They bombed us & shelled us & shot machinegun bullets at us & brought in German prisoners all night, but none of it was near enough to make us get up and hunt cover. But it was rather irritating because it wasn't very easy to sleep with our heads ready to drop at any moment. The French on the left picked one of them up with a searchlight & shot shrapnel at him, & it was a very pretty sight.

I shall appreciate the home in America after all this, although I must say the I rather enjoy this stuff. But I am nothing but a civilian in khakhi [sic] -- and I shan't be sorry to be in mufti again. It was a great thing to be born just when I was. Five years later & I should have left lost the greatest experience of generations, & the greatest opportunity. Life here is simple & uninvolved with nothing but Germans & things to worry about, nevertheless, and has distinct advantages.

I had a letter from Wayland in the same mail that brought your. He has been over here for some time -- having flown across the Channel in an aeroplane with some other people. Lately he has been in a hospital in Tours with the Spanish flu, which is one reason you haven't seen him. He liked you all very much, indeed.

Au revoir, donc, ma chérie. J'étais enchanté d'avais recu ta lettre, comme toujours, parceque elle me faisait comprendre un peu de la vie que j'aime si passionement. Toutes mes remerciements.

Mille tendresses,

Burton

OK

N.B. Paradise

2nd Lt., Inf., A.D.C.

[Translation of last paragraph: Goodbye, then, my dear. I was delighted to have received your letter, as always, because it made me understand a little of the life that I love so passionately. All my thanks.

A thousand tendernesses, ]

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I have to thank my grandfather, Burton (who, to my sorrow, died in 1942, before I ever had a chance to know him) for his excellent handwriting. It's generally very clear, and the few words that are sometimes tricky I can usually deduce from context.

Factoids: I'm hoping to learn more about the de la Chapelles, of whom I assume his comtesse is one. I'm hoping they are related to le Comte Jean Joseph Xavier Alfred de la Chapelle, who was a bit of a daring adventurer in the 19th century: California Gold Rush man, travelled to Australia, then to Morocco during the French conquest, then participated in and wrote a history of the war of 1870. I don't know whether La Brosse is their home; I'm assuming it is, but both la brosse (the brush) and la chapelle (the chapel) are such common words that it will take much more than Google work to find more information. (Though Google did help me find this entry in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography: La Chapelle, Victor Octave Xavier Alfred de Morton de, Count de La Chapelle in the French nobility (1863–1931), lawyer and wildfowler, possibly this friend of Burton's.)

I'm pretty sure that the comtesse is the same person who, according to a family story, entertained Burton and his brother Bob (a decorated flyer) at a hunting lodge after to war and, when they sighted a handsome stag as they were out shooting one day said, "Oh, but that is Teodor! We NEVER shoot Teodor!"

I'm not sure who Wayland was, other than to presume he's a family friend (it's not a family name that I recognize).

I'm interested to see if NBP's attitude towards the war remains the same. I came across some stuff he wrote while he was in training back in the States, and it's pretty Boys Own Paper bumpf about freedom and humanity and fighting the beastly Hun. I don't know if this rather starry-eyed view of the war survived whatever front line experiences he had. 

Edited to add: I'm pretty sure, by the way, that the last text block, which is written in the bottom left corner of the last page, is the "passed by censor" mark. Which suggests that he was taking advantage of his position as an aide de camp to the division commander to "censor" his own letters. Tricky bugger. :-)

Armistice Day

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal,
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation,
And a glory that shines upon her tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables at home;
They have no lot in our labour of the daytime;
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known,
As the stars are known to the night.

As the stars will be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.



For the Fallen, Lawrence Binyon, 1914

Primary Source Teaser and book report: Foch

I was going through boxes and boxes of old family photos, most of them from 1980-2010, I came across one box that had old, old photos, clearly from circa 1900-1950. Among the other things in the box, an amazing find: a collection of about half a dozen letters from my grandfather in the AEF to his sister back in the US! Other materials include some poems he wrote (I can hear Richard Clarke scoffing now :-) and a rather starry-eyed essay about the dedication of American fighting men to defeating Imperial Germany. I'll be transcribing all of these and sharing them here.

I should also add that, in the long time since my last posts, I finished reading Michael Neiberg's brief biography of Ferdinand Foch (Foch: Supreme Allied Commander in the Great War, Brassey's, 2003). It's a workmanlike piece, only about 125 pages. It describes his early training and professional development, laying out some of the factors that would underpin both his success and his challenges during the war. Most of the book is devoted to his war service. Neiberg depicts him as a pragmatist, a Catholic but not a political Catholic, and a man willing to recognize and learn from his mistakes while sticking to his principles. His contention is that Foch never lost faith in the pre-war doctrine of the offensive, but sought to refine and reinterpret (almost reinvent) that belief in the face of the army's wartime experiences. Instead of following the early pattern of an unsophisticated, unrelenting, infantry-based tactical offensive, Foch became a supporter of complex, combined-arms operations that used intelligence preparation of the battlefield, planned and sophisticated artillery fires, and evolutionary tactics to create, develop, and maintain the operational offensive in pursuit of clearly defined ad realistic strategic goals.

Neiberg does go into some detail concerning the difficulties Foch and other officers found in coalition warfare, and he shows the growing tension between Foch and Clemenceau that led, as the war was ending and in the immediate aftermath, to outright conflict between many of the French Army's senior officers on one side and their civilian leaders on the other. Foch did not directly challenge the civilian government, though he came close to doing so, and he did not take the advice of many of his supporters and leave the Army for politics, but he continued to be frank, outspoken, and even combative over France's future safety until his death in 1929 at the age of 78.

The book is a quick read; it is clear, well written, and informative. I don't know the state of historiography on the marshal's life, but I would think on the surface this appears to be a solid, basic introduction to the professional life of one of France's most famous military officers and the man who, as much or more than any other, guided the French Army to victory in the Great War.

new books!

A friend introduced me to the excellent Daedalus Books in Columbia, Maryland, who deal primarily in remaindered books and have an excellent military history section.

While perusing their web catalogue, I came across two titles I simply *had* to have that are very apt to mention here. I ordered them immediately, and they arrived today, along with a few other choice items.

One was Gentleman Volunteers: The Story of the American Ambulance Drivers in the Great War, August 1914-September 1918. Another was Letters from Verdun: Frontline Experiences of an American Volunteer in World War I France. My grandfather and great uncle, as previously mentioned, were in the American Ambulance Field Service before America entered the war (Great Uncle Bob being awarded the Croix de Guerre, I think for service with the French 32e Division during the French Second Offensive at Verdun in August 1917). So I'm very excited to find something about the American volunteer services.

I also picked up a(n unexpectedly huge) book of military maps and Come On Highlanders! Glasgow Territorials in the Great War because, well, a book about the GW, a book about the Highland Light Infantry, a book about my soon-to-be adopted home, and all for less than $7? Who could resist?

All three of these Great War titles will get added to the (voluminous) reading list and I'll try to report on them in due course.

Meanwhile my painting project still looms, and my film festival. :-)

book report: With a machine gun to Cambrai by George Coppard

I have to say, I found this is a ripping wee book. It's the first-hand account of a British soldier in World War One, from his enlistment until his demobilization. He was an Other Rank--mostly a private, eventually rising to the dizzying rank of corporal :-) --and he brings a different perspective to that of some of the more famous officers' memoirs. He was also a specialist, trained as a machinegunner in an infantry unit then transferred to the new Machine Gun Corps (MGC), which collected MG teams into a single body, then detached them as small elements to support infantry units (as well as providing support to the cavalry, motorcycle and armoured car units, and eventually provided MG crews to the newfangled "tanks"). Coppard is a very observant raconteur, and he speaks feelingly of the emotions he and other soldiers encountered, but he also displays the stoicism and good humour with which the British soldier generally meets his fate whether good or ill. He's a very lucid writer, and for all he doesn't engage in purple prose or amateur dramatics, he's readable and thoughtful, providing more than just a bare recounting of places and dates. If you come across the book and have never read anything about the Great War, I would recommend it as a well-written introduction. If you've read a lot about the World War, but would like to get a glimpse of the trench-eye view, I would recommend it again.

One thing that struck me, having watched not too long ago the very popular Downtown Abbey television series, was what Coppard remarked as the most horrible experience he endured. He suffered through uncountable bombardments, endured cold days and nights, wet or even flooded trenches, foul rations, incessant lice, and other privations that would make most of us curl up and cry for mummy. But what he remarks on being the most unpleasant and hateful period of his service was a time he spent in a clean, dry, warm rear-area hospital. One of his mates accidentally shot him in the foot with a revolver as they were assembling for duty one morning. He was sent to a field dressing station and then to hospital. En route, he was marked down as being suspected of suffering a SIW or self-inflicted wound. The hostility, the ostracism, the cold and brutal treatment he received as a suspected SIW hurt him more then the wound and caused him more distress than any physical suffering. Once the full account of the event was passed back through the reporting chain, the difference was night and day; he was warmly and kindly treated by everyone who had shunned him or supplied the barest of attention before. Anyone who saw DA can rest assured that the incident in which a relative of one of the characters is reported shot as a deserter was not far off in its depiction of how such news would be received. On the other hand, I always found the ease with which one of the other characters got himself wounded and sent home with no suspicion on the part of his comrades as to the nature of his injury... I still find that far too convenient a plot device.

I'll add a bit more about what I found interesting later, perhaps over the weekend. And stick in a few photos. :-)

Normal Service to be Resumed Shortly

Three posts out of seventeen apologising for a gap in posts is not a good thing! But various events have kept me from giving The Hissing Fuse the attention it deserves, which will hopefully be shortly remedied.

Previews of coming attractions include:

• I should soon finish George Coppard's With a machine gun to Cambrai; for a small volume, it's taken me a great time to read it, but I've enjoyed it a good deal. It's very lucid and heartfelt, and in other circs it would be a very quick read, so I highly recommend getting your hands on a copy, gentle reader.
• Likewise, Foch: Supreme Allied Commander in the Great War by Michael S. Neiberg is a pretty quick read, and I should have that finished off before too long. If I didn't read so many things at once...
• Meanwhile, Roundwood's World has had several new posts on his lovely poilus and some of their reporter friends.
• Also, the Lardies' Summer Special is out and has a piece on late war British infantry tactics, with accompanying scenarios.
• I have a large (large) painting project to work on this summer, which I am hoping to chronicle for you, gentle readers. Perhaps one of my last painting projects for a couple of years...
• And to get me in the mood for that, I'm planning some rainy day soon to have a Great War marathon viewing session. I have shrinkwrapped copies of Capitaine Conan and Joyeux Noel to break open as well as a been-watched-but-still-good Paths of Glory and (on the magic Internets/Roku box) Beneath Hill 60 and a few other choice examples of the film-maker's art.

That should be enough to whet your appetite, at least! We'll see if I can supply the dishes in June.

A Tidbit for Friday

One interesting remark I came across in Coppard's memoir was that a Jewish soldier in his regiment was allowed, in the spring of 1916, a week's home leave to attend Passover services. Many soldiers in the unit, according to Coppard, had not had any home leave since arriving in France. Coppard had, himself, been given about a week's compassionate home leave when his stepfather died at the beginning of 1916. That had been his first time back in England since embarking at Folkestone on 1 June1915.

In passing, I remark that Coppard had clearly read Robert Graves's Goodbye to All That, and read it very closely, before writing his own account of the war. Several times already (I'm about two-thirds through the short volume) he has mentioned Graves, either confirming his observations, remarking that their experiences were different, or questioning whether Graves quite understood some of the things he saw.

He has presented a pretty thorough impression of the attitudes towards the enemy in his unit. It began largely with a rather cautious dislike, the sort of instinctive but not very personal hostility that soldiers might have to an enemy they had not personally encountered. By the time they reach the winter of 1915/1916, however, he and his comrades had suffered enough from the attentions of the foe that there was no question of a Christmas Truce and, in fact, a positive willingness to take opportunities to kill the enemy. And when a group of German soldiers, under the pretense of surrendering, approached the British lines close enough to mount a devastating grenade attack, Coppard and others resolved simply to shoot any enemy in future that appeared to be attempting to surrender.

All Quiet, Apart from Scouting Reports

I'm continuing to read Anthony Saunders's Raiding on the Western Front, George Coppard's With machine gun to Cambrai [sic], and R. Derby Holmes's A Yankee in the Trenches. What strikes me most from the latter is the sheer misery of life in the trenches. This is hardly a surprise, given all that one reads and hears in general history about the war, but it should be emphasized that this is not one of the elements exaggerated by the broad-brush and traditional popular histories.

Both describe the rather miserable conditions to be found in those front-line British trenches without proper bunkers, where scrapes or perhaps slightly more commodious billets, still scarcely more than a large holes in the trench side, were dug. Forget some of the pretty pictures from later periods, or from further to the rear, where deep bunkers with walls, ceilings, floor, even rough furniture and venting systems are to be seen. These were just the sort of "nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell" that JRR Tolkein mentions in The Hobbit and with which the author was probably familiar himself during his service on the front line in 1916.

Both recount episodes where they were stationed in trenches that were either waterlogged or entirely flooded, with water (or, more properly, thin mud) up to their knees, hips, or waists. At one point, Coppard and his fellow machinegunners have to wade out to a small island which forms their forward gun position

Both encounter that staple of trench horror, the ever-present remains of fellow soldiers (of both armies), too omnipresent to remove for proper burial. As Coppard says, "So long as we were alive, we had to go on living, but it wasn't easy with the dead sandwiched so close to us. We took our meals and tried to sleep with them as our neighbours. Amid laughter and bawdy stories they were there."

Nor is the sheer incomprehensibility of actions taken at the command of higher headquarters blown seriously out of proportion in popular history. Several passages in Coppard's relation bear this home. One is his description of conditions in the Hohenzollern Redoubt in September 1915. Essentially, it was "a mass of pulverised dirt, ... no more than three or four acres" in size, with no visible value to either side, a moonscape of craters from artillery and exploded mines, almost indefensible, but which one side attempted to hold and the other side to possess, at the cost of hundreds, maybe thousands of lives.

In another example of somewhat incomprehensible activity, an artillery FO arrives, directs distant artillery to fire on a target behind the nearest enemy positions, and then departs. Of course, retaliatory enemy fire rains down on the front-line infantry who had merely served as bystanders.

What strikes me most from Saunders is the number of interesting actions that could be turned into wargame scenarios, and what a small proportion of the actual fighting they represent. An overwhelming amount of the combat activity that took place when troops were in the trenches was either simply random or near-random exchanges of fire or operations that might be more suitable as the subject of a roleplay episode or map exercise/kreigsspiel than a straight table-top battle. Patrol actions, especially, didn't have the sort of direct conflict that makes a good tabletop scenario, unless they went badly wrong. I'll provide a link here to a patrol report from the Royal Highlanders of Canada from 1916. It's an interesting expedition and certainly brought back useful intelligence, but the patrol leader was very careful to avoid contact and bring his men, and their intelligence, back in safety to their own lines. This could be a good one-sided exercise moderated by an umpire, but it wouldn't make for anything worth putting out terrain and figures.

Life gets in the way!

Apologies to my hoard of readers (both of you ;-) for the break in communication. German shelling broke the telephone line from the OP in the forward sap. Or General Melchett had another smoking party in the officers' mess and now we have to get the cleaners in, replace all the furniture, and restock the Dow 1896 port.

Normal service should resume shortly.

"...the gun, however, had been removed..."

Last weekend we had the opportunity to recruit another member to our section of Mud and Blood enthusiasts. My friend Ash has played other wargames with us a couple of times, and he was up to trying something new. Mr Sherwood and I gave him a brief run-through on the basics of M&B and of simple infantry tactics, and then he was given command of a raiding party (with Mr Sherwood acting as his trusty senior NCO...)

For the event, I had put together a simple scenario that I hoped would be a fairly painless introduction to the rules, providing enough challenge to be fun while not being so brutal as to discourage the beginning player. As the subject, I picked the very first ever trench raid, as mentioned by Anthony Saunders in his Raiding on the Western Front.

This action took place in early November 1914 near Festubert. A German unit had pushed a sap forward towards the British lines and placed a machine-gun there "which was causing annoyance", according to one source. The 2nd Battalion, the Black Watch staged a small attack to capture or destroy the gun and its position.

Ash and Bryan had two sections of Highlanders to clear the sap and its supporting trench. They advanced side by side separated by a road, one section crossing an open field and taking cover in a tree line while the second section occupied the ruins of a farm about 50-60 yards from the sap.

The Germans had a good deal of trouble with their MG. They fired off a couple of bursts at one section of Scots as they advanced to the treeline, but after dropping a couple of kilties, they suffered a stoppage that lasted through the rest of the game. The supporting gruppe of riflemen did their best to stave off the inevitable, but with the MG out of action, the Germans were like the Lady of Shallot--their doom had come upon them.

I had tried to give the British an edge (justified by their success in the historical event) by including both the Up and At 'Em and Mad Minute cards. These proved crucial, as they allowed the British to get in position under cover and to pour a steady stream of fire onto the German positions that even their trenches could not wholly shelter them from. Eventually, the Highlanders just shot the Germans to pieces, with the German NCOs being shot down last, one by one, as they tried desperately to get their gun back in action (once the German units were gone, I allowed the British to shoot directly at the German Big Men). The Hun lost the MG, the sap, and the trench, with all ranks wounded or killed. The British took four casualties, much the same as in the historical raid.

I was quite happy with the result. It was intended to be a British win from the beginning, but I was impressed that the players managed (with help from the dice gods) to keep so close to the original British casualty figures. I think the scenario works well as a starter piece, a short scenario with the beginner as the British and an experienced player in the German role (and, if necessary, acting as umpire--it's not about winning and losing, so he can stand to be impartial). We skipped out on using blinds and spotting in our game, so as to limit the complications, and since they would be likely to be of short duration in any case.

Incidentally, on digging around for more information on the original action, I found a brief passage in Mereweather and Smith's The Indian Corps in France that describes the action and gave me an additional piece of information.

Before dawn on the same day, a similar raid on a smaller scale was carried out by the 2nd Black Watch, with the object of capturing or destroying a machine gun which was tormenting our men. Captain Forrester with twenty men rushed the German trench, and had a hand-to-hand scrimmage with the enemy, of whom they killed ten. The gun, however, had been removed, and the party were lucky to get back to their own trench with only Captain Forrester and one sergeant wounded.

Another account (A History of the Black Watch (Royal Highlanders) in the Great War, 1914-1918, A.G. Wauchope, ed.)says

The chief incident in the left section was a night raid made on the German trenches by some twenty men of No. 2 Company under Captain Forrester, with the object of destroying a machine gun which was causing annoyance from a sap pushed up close to our line. The raid took place on November 9th. Captain Forrester was wounded through the lungs as the raid started, but continued to lead his men, who reached the German trenches and killed ten of the enemy in hand-to-hand fighting; the machine gun had, however, been removed. The party returned with Captain Forrester, Sergeant Wallace, and one private wounded.

So, in fact, our stoppage had had a fairly historical effect--the original German defenders had not had the advantage of an MG to defend themselves with--and neither did our fictional Germans!

I'll publish the scenario here as soon as I can format it properly.  Here's the scenario.

A few new toys

Among the things I got at Cold Wars were some of the Old Glory WWI figures and a special pack from Great War Minis.

I had heard that the two lines are not terribly compatible, and I have to say that's so. The Old Glory line, while quite nice based on these Germans and some Americans I acquired, are a good bit smaller, possibly true 25s compared with GWM and Renegade, which are more "heroic" 28s. Nonetheless, I think that of one doesn't mix the two in the same units, they can get by in the same force.

In the image above are two Old Glory pieces, in the top left and bottom right. Top left are a pair of kneeling/seated figures, one operating a radio or field telephone, the other taking notes on a pad. The latter could as well be paired with an officer observing through a filed periscope or some such. His base is not nearly as thick as that of the handset man, so I've added a small base under him, which leaves him slightly elevated over the other figure, but more or less on a level.I'll have to do some creative ground-sculpting.

On the bottom right is a chap holding a pigeon, with a nice wicker basket that presumably held the feathery messenger. The set also included a runner with a satchel, who is not in this shot.

The three other pieces are Great War miniatures, and beautiful work they are, too. In the lower left corner is a Granatenwerfer 16, an Austrian spigot mortar adopted by the German Army. The Soldier's Burden has a nice page on it here. The GWM piece comes with a granatenwerfer in two pieces, an operator, and an additional crewman.

I suppose the latter might as well be a support for the central figure, a gunner with a Mauser Tankgewehr M1918, or 13mm anti-tank rifle. He provided a nice excuse to pick up some of the lozenge-shaped bases that Gale Force Nine includes among its inexpensive MDF bases (for sale, alas, only at conventions). In emulation of my hero, Uncle Sid, I've decided to go with these for my WWI forces.

Speaking of these pill-shaped bases, the third GWM set uses one of these to carry a team using the Kleinflammenwerfer, or small flamethrower. The Soldier's Burden has a page describing the German employment of these devices. While initially effective, they became less so once British and French troops overcame their initial shock at the use of fire, and (as mentioned in this piece on firstworldwar.com), the life of an operator was dangerous and, if captured by the enemy, very short indeed.

I also acquired some Brigade Games German sentries (not pictured), some of which are smoking, the slackers! These will be useful for M&B for sure--I might even get them some special bases for their special role.

In addition, with my pre-Cold Wars purchases (thanks to the chaps who bought my old 15mm Franco-Prussian figures!), I now have enough figures for a half-Zug of early war Germans, another half-Zug of late war Germans, and a platoon of Americans. Now to start painting...

A Lesson in Success

While reading whatever I can get my hands on concerning the practice of trench raiding (I have recently acquired and look forward to devouring Anthony Saunders' Raiding on the Western Front), I came across this nice article on the Calonne Trench Raid (PDF), published in a 1999 issue of Canadian Military History. It's short (~10 pages), but it very neatly provides background on the Commonwealth Western Front practice of trench raiding, explains the purposes of the practice, gives the lead-in to this particular attack, details the planning and organization for it, and describes the action itself. it then wraps up the results and brings the reader back to the overall rationale and effect of raiding.

A sampling of the other accounts I've run across on the Web so far include several accounts on a site dedicated to the 11th Bn., East Lancashire Regiment: a patrol, a raid, and a raid by the 13th Bn., York and Lancaster Regiment. Also a nice animated presentation on a 1916 raid the the London Scottish, an account of an American who fought with the Royal West Surreys, another American serving under his home colours, and a short account of an action by 6th Bn., Seaforth Highlanders.

All Quiet At The Hissing Fuse

There's a brief hiatus underway while I prepare for Cold Wars (which won't have much Great War focus for me, at least this year). I'm continuing to read up on the battle of Vimy Ridge, which (for those who hadn't sussed it out yet) is the setting for our Winter Sports escapades.

I hope to develop a little mini-campaign of WS scenarios that will serve to involve the players in the preparations for the assault. The Canadians practiced trench-raiding extensively, often on a large scale, and it both "blooded" new men and contributed to the intelligence gathering that made the attack such a huge success. In the end, I'd like to tie the results into a larger depiction of the attack, maybe a couple of Storm of Dice scenarios or a Corps Blimey game.

The first step will be expanding the scope of the missions and ruse cards from the original article. While they're brilliant for the first few games, once you've run through them several times, they need updating to keep the suspense going. These will be a mixture of events and items that will be applicable to any Western Front setting and some that will be specifically applicable to Vimy Ridge.

One thing I'm looking forward to about Vimy is that it matches up the Canadians (the shock troops of the British Empire) against the Bavarians. The Bavarians had a reputation as doughty and ferocious fighters, and were, towards the end of 1917, the first to come to grips with the Americans as they arrived in France.

[A well deserved reputation! I got to command a division of Bavarians recently in a scenario playtest for Bruce Weigle's 1866 rules (he has a good scenario lined up for Cold Wars), and I found them quite redoubtable, considering the overwhelming Prussian firepower they were facing.]


ETA: Brief account of Cold Wars here.

Training Exercise: Attack on a Strongpoint

Our latest Mud and Blood engagement saw us introducing a few new players to the mix, so it seemed as if we should be expanding the scope of the battle, at leas a little bit. So, since we were looking to train up some new eggs, we turned the the "Training the Entente" section of the Stout Hearts and Iron Troopers supplement to M&B. Up first is the scenario "Attack on a Strongpoint", which comes more or less straight from Appendix X of the British Army's manual SS143, 'Instructions for the training of platoons for offensive action', 1917.

Because of the limitations of our figure pools, we switched the identities of the two sides, so that Germans (organized in the 1916 British style) were attacking a British strongpoint. We tried to give a thorough briefing on the rules, but we neglected giving the player a full briefing on the weapons systems, organization, and tactics. Given which, the players did jolly well, overall.

The attackers set forth in four columns; the LMG section and rifle grenadiers were on the left; the bombers and riflemen on the right, with the platoon HQ in the centre. They used the broken ground between their entry point at the strongpoint to cover a portion of their advance, but eventually the left-hand columns broke cover and were spotted. When they started taking fire, the platoon commander became fed up with advancing slowly and started positioning himself for a rush at the trench.

The defenders had placed their HMG in the center of the trench, with rifle sections on either side and dummy blinds in the woods besides the roads, suggesting more of a breadth of front than they were actually able to cover. At first, a rifle section was hitting the LMG troops, but the HMG soon joined in. The LMGers took several casualties and had a good deal of trouble getting their gun into action. As a result, the first section that attacked the trench took heavy losses from the HMG and the rifle defenders, as none of them had suffered any suppressive fire. The section fell back, lost its NCO, and started bottling it for the entry point. The next section suffered a similar result, though the platoon officer and NCO were able to rally them somewhat.

Eventually the attackers got their LMG on line and began coordinating fire between that and the rifle grenadiers. The nearest enemy section took a good deal of fire, especially from the LMG. The rifle grenades fell heavy amongst the HMG crew, and a few convenient jams provided the excuse for the last intact section of attackers (the rifle grenadiers) to rush the suppressed defenders of the near end of the trench.

With good luck and sheer perseverance, the grenadiers won their way in. The defenders died or fled, their NCO escaping out the back of the trench and circling around to join the remainder of the defending force. But the remaining rifle section dashed down the trench, past the cowering MG crew, and began evicting the unwanted squatters with the bayonet. Though they had penetrated the enemy position, the attackers did not have the strength to hold on to what they had gained.

All the new players (one of whom took command of the defending HMG, the others commanding the attacking force) seemed to enjoy the experience. One of the attackers is now contemplating raising a force of French infantry (his wife is Norman), so we may have hooked another fish. :-)

Both our cadre and our new recruits have distilled some of the lessons learned from this engagement (timing, concentration of fire, the use of cover) and are looking forward to using them in our next battle. We omitted the use of the sniper and the scouts in the attacking force, so as not to overload the new players with new rules, but both would clearly have had their value if used--the scouts in spotting off the defender's blinds sooner and the sniper in helping to suppress the defenders.

Linking for Victory

Just a quick post in order to link to Peter Knight's excellent Great War history website, The Old Contemptibles. Of especial interest to me was the tremendous trove of nearly three dozen manuals and pamphlets produced by the British Army that he has made available online as photobooks. These include the 1914 Infantry Training instructions, Instructions on Wiring, Instructions for the Training of Platoons (SS143 1917), Notes on Tactical Schemes, Training and Employment of Bombers, Tactical Employment of Lewis Guns, Platoon Training (SS143 1918) and many, many more. It's well worth a visit just for these, and they are only the tip of the iceberg; he's got lots of lovely material there besides.

WIth catlike tread

Having made some small changes to the Winter Sports rules, we had to test them out to see if they were too much, not quite enough, or the Golidlocks of rules tinkering--just right! (As a reminder, the three changes were replacing "False Alarm" with "You Men, Over There!", widening the range of modifiers for night to 1/2/3 from 1/2, and making "automatic " spots actually 4+.)

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So, once again the lads of the Canadian Black Watch crawled out into the night, cursing the darkness, the mud, the wire, and the way that--despite the terrain having been blasted into a moonscape of stark emptiness--their officer still managed to find a path that ran across briars that reached up under their kilts and clawed at them. "Couldn't it be B Company?" they asked plaintively. "We've just finished making coffee." (Tim Horton's was still 3,000 miles and 47 years away.)

And dark it was! The officers, learning from their last experience, had picked a night that was both dark of the moon and very foggy. Mother Nature would be doing her best to cover the advance of the Canucks; with any luck, they would be able to get close to the German lines this time before anyone knew they were there. The assignment was to retrieve a couple of prisoners that the Germans had captured off a wandering wiring party a few nights before. But as far as the Highlanders were concerned, the main challenge was just going out and coming back without being spotted, floodlit by flares, and machine-gunned to pieces. Especially with the Lewis Gun section, who seemed incapable of moving even fifty feet without a din of clanking, crashing, and thumping.

On the Boche side of No Man's Land, Reserve-Infanterie-Regiment Nr. 261 was feeling quietly confident. Their own raid had not gone so well, but they had had a chance to thoroughly re-wire the area in front of their position since the Englanders had last come over. The gaps cleared by the British were gone, a few noisemakers hung, and new lines of fire for the Spandaus laid out. No one would be sneaking up on them, and if anyone got close, they would meet a hail of lead!

Having quietly (or mostly so) stolen up towards the Prussian lines, the Canadians couldn't believe their luck. In part because they had been carefully guided by Lt. McPherson (who had reconnoitered the ground the previous few nights with Sgt. McDonald) and partly because the Mississaugans down the line had obligingly set up a tremendous racket about an hour before, it appeared that the squareheads had not detected even a hint of their approach.

Unbeknownst to the kilties, a world-record game of skat had broken out in one of the troop shelter, and unless the patrol had come bearing a Jack of Bells, the chances of it receiving any attention were low. Even the sentries, fortified by "a little" schnapps "to keep the cold out" were bending their ears towards the xxx for a shout of victory, not into the hostile darkness for the sound of ammunition boots.

Well, at least someone was paying attention! Soldat Schultheiss, whose family were strict Calvinists, was shaking his head in disgust. Good, Christian men wasting their time in drink and card-playing! They should be attending to their duty, not...wait! What was that? "Alarm! Alarm!" Schultheiss sprinted for the nearest shelter, blowing his whistle vigorously. But amidst the commotion in the dugout (a dispute had broken out about scoring), no one heard him. Frustrated, Schultheiss ran on, looking for an officer. "Someone has to know what to do!"

The argumentative Gfr.Bauer had at last conceded that he had misplayed his null game when he looked up to see a face protruding through the blackout curtain. It was a horrid, ugly face, covered in black soot and looking like the veriest devil. But even more horrifying were the two grenades the frightful creature was brandishing. While the stream of gibberish coming from his lips was incomprehensible, the gestures he was making with the grenades were unmistakable. Slowly Bauer rose to his feet, wondering if there were some way to quickly slide his winnings into his pocket without seeming to make a sudden and dangerous move. Sadly he concluded there was not. Covered by the rifles of the sooty bomber's companions, the Germans began filing out into the trench.

At last Schultheiss's whistle blowing paid off. As he ran down the duckboards towards the nearest communication trench, he met his Leutnant and a Vizfeldwebel coming the other way. They quickly directed him to the rack of emergency flares and trotted past him towards the breach in the line. The forward dugout must be rousted out! Schultheiss let off a white flare, and he saw in its light that a Gruppe of men were already making their way towards him along the front line trench, and the duty Maxim crew were rolling into their fighting position and feeding a belt of Patronen into their piece.

But the Canadians had not been willing to sit on their prize. A couple of trench cleaners, running forward with bayonets at the ready, encountered the German officer and NCO before the latter could find their men. Over their strenuous objections, they were added to the "bag" of prisoners.

Eingreiftruppen were pouring into the communications trench, however, and Lt. McPherson could see that retrieving the Canadian prisoners would be a feat beyond his squad's ability that night. They might be able to wreak a little revenge for their previous pasting, however. He got his riflemen moving back through darkness towards the gaps in the wire, shoving and pushing their reluctant guests with them. Sgt. McDonald's section, which had positioned itself as his flank guards and which was exchanging occasional rifle shots with the other frontline German troops, began to withdraw also. Would the Germans follow?

At least some of them would. Uffz. Hinrich was not willing to see so many of his comrades led off like sheep. "After them, men!" he shouted, clambering up the nearest ladder and onto the ground in front of their fighting position. Half a dozen men followed him obediently.

Which was just what the Lewis Gun team had been waiting for. A burst caught two men full in the chest, dropping them like ducks on the wing. Several more suffered wounds of varying severity before they tumbled back behind their sandbags and logs, cursing bitterly. Into the darkness disappeared the Highlanders, carrying with them a German subaltern, several NCOs, and half a dozen rank and file.

It had been a good night for the Canadians.

a round-up of makers

We had a Mud and Blood game yesterday in which Mr Sherwood and I introduced a few more of our friends to Mud & Blood. Mr Taylor, who had participated in a previous Winter Sports skirmish, hosted, and Mr Johnson and Mr Myers were given command of a German infantry attack (on which more later). The upshot was that the hook was well seated in at least one of our fresh fish, and I was asked about manufacturers of Great War 25/28mm figures. I complied this list, but it can probably be added to.

Great War Miniatures: The link is to NorthStar, their UK distributor, just because, IMO, it's easier to view the figures on their site, but order from Brigade Games in the US. American, Belgian (EW), French (EW), British (EW/LW), German (EW/LW), artillery, British and German tanks.

Renegade: The bulk of my troops and Mr Sherwood's so far are Renegade. The link is to their site for best viewing, but we think they can be obtained in the US from Legends in Time. British (EW, LW) German (EW, LW), Frenc (EW), Austro-Hungarian (EW).

Brigade Games: They also distribute GWM, Woodbine, and Copplestone. Their own lines include British and French tanks, and armoured train, and French, British, German, and American troops for the Western Front; Austrian and Italian troops for the Italian front; ANZAC, Turkish and German troops for the war in Palestine; Arabs for the Arab Revolt; and British, German, and Belgian troops for the war in Africa.

Old Glory 25s: Extensive, as always with OG. British, French, German, Austro-Hungarian, Russian, Italian, Serbian (!), Montenegrin (!!), American. Also lines for the Pershing Expedition to Mexico (which might be cool to game with M&B) and some Arab figures in their "Sons of the Desert" FFL line that might in a pinch be used as Arabs for the Arab Revolt. Most of the lines include downed pilots, medical teams, scouts/signallers, field guns, and some armoured vehicles. Not many photos, so I can't speak to the quality. The *reputation* they have is that they are much smaller (closer to true 25mm) and less well sculpted than the dominant lines like GWM and Renegde.

Copplestone Castings: Turkish and British for the Middle East and (in their "Back of Beyond" line), Russian Civil War Red and White troops, most of whom would be fine to use as regulars on the Eastern Front.

1st Corps: Nice looking figures, have yet to acquire any myself. British (LW), German (LW), three ACs and a Whippet light tank.

Wargames Foundry: British (EW, LW), French (EW, LW), German (EW, LW). Some very generic packs, and some special characters. As Bryan mentioned, may be a bit small in comparison to the newer lines.

Eureka: Russian MGs, MG carts, and mounted officers. Odd little sideline.

Ebor: Belgian (EW), French (EW)

Woodbine (a subdivision of Gripping Beast): British (including Australians and Indians) for the Mid East campaigns, Turks, and French colonial troops. Available in the US from Brigade Games and from Architects of War, right up the road in Ellicott City, MD.

Scarab: Austro-Hungarian (LW), Italians (LW), French (LW), British (special characters), German (special characters), some vehicles (possibly all other manufacturers) plus resell Woodbine and GWM.

Musketeer Miniatures: Very nice figures but very difficult to get hold of; order in the US from Brigade Games, but the manufacturers appear to be very flaky in producing figures and filling orders. British (EW), Russian

Brigade Models UK: Belgian (EW)

There are a couple of other lines that I know of (Irregular, Reviresco, Alphacast, Tradition) but their figures do not look nice enough that I feel I could recommend them to anyone.

Waxing the Skis: Tinkering with the Winter Sports rules

So, after two games of Mud and Blood using the "Winter Sports" trench-raiding amendments, it became clear that something was broken. There seemed to be no way for attacking troops to reach the enemy trench without being repeatedly spotted by the enemy sentries.

Assuming that the defender positions his sentries evenly along his front line, which runs halfway across the 4' x 4' board, pretty much all the assaulting forces will be within the 24" automatic spotting range, even at start (see below). Night modifies the spotting chance down one, but any movement and the sentries' extra Action bump it back up again. And sentries' spotting areas will overlap; only one small area will be visible to all three, but only a small area will be visible to only one. So at least one or two and possibly all three sentries will be generating two Whistle Points (WP) per turn.

Using both dice, attacking groups would move, on average, about 7" per turn, assuming they moved across relatively passable ground (no minus for bad terrain). In theory that would mean they could reach the trenches in three turns. But in three turns of even two sentries successfully spotting, the defending officers are active; if all three can spot each turn, the general alarm will have sounded and the MG will be tooled up and ready to fire.

The Chinese Attack and Rat Imitation cards will block one or two sentries from spotting for a turn, but there aren't many of them (three at most, and odds were you would get some other cards among those three). A little respite may be gained by the provision that sentries can only spot at attacking units that have moved, in the same turn, but with the defender choosing which sentry to spot with when a Sentry card comes up, and the same number of sentries spotting as Big Men moving attackers, it's likely that each sentry will be able to spot every turn. And once the defender's Big Men are alerted and come forward to have a dekko, things move faster toward disaster.

One mistake we made in the first game came from the way an important piece of information is buried. The Snifter card is not part of the starting deck, as it usually is; instead, it is added to the deck when the defending Big Men come on deck. That was a critical change, because it meant that until the defenders reach 10 WP, the attacking units will all get to move every turn. In the first game, one British unit froze halfway across the board and did its best imitation of a dead stoat for three or four turns. No one could spot it, since it wasn't moving, but all the other British units were easy to spot, and it dragged out the British advance interminably.

One thing we tried in the second game was to spend one Action moving and the second Action taking cover, assuming that that would treat the crouching defenders as in light cover rather than the open. This had very little effect, as it made spotting only slightly less likely and it slowed the forward movement to a crawl (literally). Also a bit of a dead herring was the "false alarm" ploy. Having a Big Man take his entire turn to reduce the defender's WP by one seemed nearly useless.

Attackers in both scenarios felt as if they were tap-dancing across an oak floor in a spotlight.

So I talked to M&B veterans like Capt. Roundwood, Teniente Benito, and Sgt. Maj. Maxwell, who gave sage advice (they were also unstinting with their thyme). Between their advice and our own brainstorming, we came up with some changes.

First, the "false alarm" activity. To think about what it represents, taking it literally (an officer is making all the attacking men stand still) doesn't make much sense, since the men are actually moving forward. Also, most players seem to have interpreted it that this should be the senior BM; having a status III using up all his initiative to reduce WP by one while sentries are adding 4-6 per turn didn't seem right. So, what is one senior tactical officer doing that can make the assault more quiet?

Our conclusion was that it represents a BM expending all his attention giving guidance and direction to the moving sections, watching what sentries can be seen, what the wind is doing to cloud cover, and what can be seen or judged of the battlefield to find the least alerting path for the attacking sections to travel. So our modified rule, "You men, over there!" allows the senior attacking BM to expend all his initiative and reduce the WP by that amount. However, it can only take place on his card (obviously), it can only take place before the General Alarm (like False Alarm), and he can't combine it with any other sort of activity. Finally, he can only do it if he is in half command range (5" for a Status III) of all of his sections when he does so. He can hardly go shouting orders to everyone if he wants to keep things quiet!

We considered reintroducing blinds, or adding the Storm card to the deck. But Winter Sports are supposed to be a scaled-back version of the game, so we decided not to do that.

We decided to extend the +1/+2 spotting at night to 1/2/3: +1 would be reserved for nights with a full moon (when no officer in his right mind would lead a raid), with a partial moon being +2, and a moonless night being +3. And instead of treating "automatic" as 2 (which would be logical for an immediate success on 2D6), we treated it as 4 (one lower than the lowest other roll on the table).

So a sentry spotting a section moving in the open with two dice on a moonless night at 9" to 24" would need to roll 4 or higher (4 base +3 no moon, -1 for both actions used to spot -2 for moving with two dice). Not a huge challenge, but a little more difficult than "automatic". Add fog, some good cover, an officer pointing out the best approach route, and troops might actually have a chance of making it across without the entire enemy army being ready and waiting to greet them.

My own house rule for spotting is also to give veteran troops an additional -1 when spotting and green (to include exhausted and poorly disciplined troops) a +1 when spotting. Of course, the problem with a 2D6 roll is that it's a bell curve; -1 or +1 has a dramatically different effect, depending on what the base number is. Still, that can't be helped, and this made spotting just that little bit harder.

With those modifications in place, we tried another game. The account of that action will be next up!

The hissing fuse...

Having recently run across Sidney Roundwood's Captain Murdoch and his ferret, I found this quotation in Edward Lengel's To Capture Hell particularly apt, so I took from it the title of my blog.

Lengel quotes Lt. Edward Lukens, of the AEF's 80th Division, a young officer serving in an infantry regiment from western Pennsylvania. Lukens was leading his men in pursuit of fleeing Germans through a ruined wood when he saw a German dugout and investigated. Detecting movement within, he armed a grenade.

At the sound of the hissing fuse, there came from the dugout the most unholy conglomeration of yells that I ever heard from human throats--screams of terror and abject pleading. But six seconds is too short a time to negotiate a surrender; they had kept hidden too long and could not possibly claim to be regarded as prisoners. The fuse was already going and down the hole went the bomb.*

I thought that passage perfectly encapsulated the casual brutality of war, a sensibility that is not part of our games but that we ought always to be reminded of when we are playing our tabletop battles. I don't think for a moment that it is somehow special to the Great War; I think it is the sort of practical morality of soldiers that, when brought out in the light of day, "looks bad in the newspapers and upsets civilians at their breakfast" but that it inescapable once you put humans at the business of killing each other in a large, organized, and utterly chaotic way.



* Lengel, Edward G. (2008) To Conquer Hell: The Meuse-Argonne, 1918. New York: Henry Holt & Co. Page 94.

Mud and Blood Winter Sports: Second Half of the Tie

In our first episode, a raiding party of 73rd (Royal Highlanders of Canada) had snuck through the shell-cratered muddy ruin that lay between them and the German lines, hoping to grab a prisoner or two and find out what was going on in the German lines. Between alert sentries and a brilliant moon (unexpectedly revealed), the Canucks had faced an impossible assignment and withdrew with a number of casualties and some shattered pride.

On the east side of the battlefield, this raid had caused some Teutonic brows to furrow. Why were the Canadians probing at such an inauspicious time? Any sensible commander would have waited until the moon had thinned, rather than counting on clouds for protection. There must be a strong imperative to acquire information or to disrupt German operations. A small scout group was sent across to see if there were signs of preparations for attack (and, incidentally, to repair the wire the enemy had cut in their approach).

Alas, the best-laid plans of mice and men... Feldwebel Schenk, an experienced soldier, slipped on an odd-shaped piece of stone (on inspection, it proved to be an old, battered British mess tin) as the scouting party was nearing the British lines. He sustained a severe ankle injury and, though he did his best to manfully stifle the shriek of pain that followed the tearing of muscle and snapping of bone, the commotion that ensured was sufficient to draw a strong British wiring party towards the German gruppe. Sending his men back to their lines, Schenk snapped off a few shots at the approaching Canadians, enough to keep their heads down until his men were well away. Then he put up his hands. Since he had not actually hit any of them, his captors were not inclined to mistreat him too fervently, and he was more or less intact when delivered to the A Company command dugout for interrogation.

Back at 1te Batallion, Reserve-Infanterie-Regiment Nr. 261, there was consternation. Fw. Schenk was a valuable man. He had trained half the patrol leaders in the Kompanie. He was the Leutnant's right-hand man. He had to be rescued. Lt. Thundertentronck himself resolved to take a picked group of men, half a section, and retrieve the experienced landser before he was carted off to an Allied rear area. A Vizefeldwebel tried to reason with the young man, but to no avail. Ir. 261 didn't leave a man behind!

The night was quiet. A little too quiet for anyone's liking. It would have been nice to have a nearby barrage, or perhaps some flares going up half a mile away to keep the North Americans distracted. As the three gruppen made their way through the night, it seemed that the moon was, again, like a giant flood light, aimed right at their feet. As they neared the enemy front line trench, the Unteroffizieren urged silence on their men, and advances were taken in little rushes, a dozen yards and then a drop to the ground, finding whatever cover was available. After a moment or two, a stealthy rise into a crouch, and a dozen more yards would be trodden under their boot heels.

Lt Thundertentronck waited with two runners. He had pointed one gruppe to the gap in the wire on the left. Another had moved forward swiftly towards the gap on the right, but they were moving through the near gap at the same time as the first, and so blocked the movement of the third group. Earnest and full of initiative, but perhaps too impatient, that group's Gefreiter had decided to cut an additional gap in the near wire, since they couldn't move directly forward.

"Well, it will keep them occupied," thought the Leutnant. He motioned to to his runners and ran through the clearing (original) gap. The second group has slowed, and he found himself racing ahead of them. Turning, he glared and beckoned at their NCO, urging him soundlessly to keep up.

Soundlessness was not something, it rapidly became evident, that the Leutnant should have worried about. Only moments after shouting and whistles showed that their cover was blown, the abrupt and deadly voice of a British Maschinengewehr could be distinctly heard. Uffz. Grauber was screaming at his men, urging them to hurry as bullets began tearing through his position. Helmets could be seen, here and there, showing movement into the front-line trench. The Leutnant reached into his breadbag and pulled out the flare pistol he'd been issued; the line directly in front of them, which had a communications trench running back from it, was no longer a practical objective. But he could deny it to the enemy.

It seemed the shot had barely arced into the sky and burst when the supporting barrage began coming down. Was it trench mortars from their own unit, rather than howitzers from the Feldartillerie? No way to tell, but no one in those trenches would be moving now. He waved the pistol, trying to point Grauber and the other NCOs toward the trenchline to their right. Could they see him? Hard to tell--the flare was so bright, he could barely open his now night-sensitive eyes. Best to lead by example. He leapt to his feet and began running.

Grauber could see the direction, and it was unnecessary. He was headed that way anyway. The problem was his men. The machinegun fire was deterring them. Some of them were evidencing this deterrence by shrinking back and trying to find shelter in shell holes instead of moving forward. Others were manifesting their unwillingness in a more passive way, by lying huddled on the ground while bullet after bullet slammed into their motionless forms. After his latest round of shouting (over the combined noise of the British Vickers and the German shells impacting less than fifty metres away), he realised he was alone. Quite alone. Well, another gruppe was heading through the other gap in the wire; he would go join them.

This was, as it happened, a good idea. Hesitating briefly at the wire gap to get his bearings, Uffz. Meier had noticed more movement in the opposing trench. There was a dogleg just to the right of the traverse he had decided to head for, and it looked as if there were men with rifles entering the traverse. One of them even seemed to be pointing his rifle towards Meier....

The crackle of fire to his right alarmed von Thundertentrock. But this was supposed to be the one empty section! He and his runners paused briefly on the edge of the trench, then jumped in. He turned back to see how close his gruppen were. Not very. A figure that looked (and certainly sounded) like Grauber was standing with what seemed to be Meier's gruppe, urging them to move towards the trench. Grauber's own gruppe seemed to have disappeared. And Gfr. Kaufmann's men, having finished their (somewhat unnecessary) wire-clearing activity seemed to be hesitating about coming further forward. "We'll just guard this gap," he could hear them thinking, "and cover the other men when they retreat. Maybe we'll have a pipe while we wait..."

The Leutnant looked ahead towards where he believed the enemy command bunker (his objective) to be.  A section of enemy infantry filled the trench that accessed it, and his own interdiction barrage was falling all around it. Off to his right, the small group of enemy riflemen that had recently appeared were getting bolder. And off on the far side of his barrage, there were shouts and cries that suggested the enemy's ready-reaction force had arrived and was looking for a way through the barrage to come to grips with him. He looked around him. Two men in the enemy trench with him. About a dozen more, yards away and getting no closer. Schenk, if he were even still in the area, stowed away in the unreachable enemy Gefechtsstand.

"It's no good, lads," he shouted to his runners. "We're not going to make it through this time. Let's get the rest of the men and get them back to our lines." So near, but yet so far...

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Our second game of Winter Sports ended much like the first. We tried having advancing groups use one Action to move and another to take cover, hoping that this would make it harder for the sentries to accumulate Whistle Points. But doing so slowed the pace of the advance; using one Action to take cover doubled the length of time the advance took, but it did not make spotting the men even twice as hard. It was proving impossible for the attackers to come even close to the defending trench before, not only the frontline troops but also the machinegun and relief forces were alerted and active. We would have to make some changes if the scenarios were going to work as intended.

Teaser: Other AEF projects

Having started reading (both by printed book and audiobook) about the history of the AEF, I was struck by descriptions of the battle of Cantigny, 28 May 1918. Although American forces had been in action in the line before this point, this was the first coordinated offensive by American troops. Although the French provided considerable support to the attack (artillery, tanks, flamethrower teams, and air cover), the action served as the preview or dress rehearsal for AEF troops to justify Pershing's insistence that he be allowed to create American formations under American command, rather than "amalgamate" his troops into French and British formations as those armies wished him to. If Cantigny had gone badly, Pershing might not have been able to withstand that pressure.

Cantigny proved a remarkable success, however.The 28th Infantry Regiment of the 1st Division stormed German defense and drove the enemy out of the town, seizing its objectives less than an hour after beginning their advance. More importantly, the doughboys held through two days of German counterattacks, retaining the ground they had captured, though at considerable cost.

Both its small size and its pivotal nature suggested to me that this might make a good subject for a game. So one of my Great War projects will be to develop a scenario for the battle, featuring the American assault and the German counterattacks, using Charles Eckhart's "Storm of Dice" adaptation of the Lardies' If the Lord Spares Us rules. With any luck, I'll be able to cozen Rich into including this in a special later in the year.

I'd also like to put together a couple of M&B scenarios featuring the early efforts of the AEF, both its very first action against the Germans at Bathlemont in November 1917 and a scenario featuring some of the fighting around Cantigny.

Not that I'm looking for an excuse to buy a Schneider tank in 28mm; no, not at all. :0)

Mud & Blood: Winter Sports, First Foray

My chum Mr Sherwood and I being fans of Mud & Blood, we decided recently to try out the small night raid scenario generator contained in the "Winter Sports" article in the Lardies' Christmas Toast 2010 Special.

First time out of the gate we tried the recipe as written, with a British force seeking to penetrate German lines and snatch a prisoner.

A platoon from the 73rd (Royal Highlanders of Canada) set forth on what was supposed to be a cloudy night. However, by the time they had worked their way through No Man's Land to the gaps cut by an earlier patrol of the 67th Canadian Pioneers Battalion, a change in wind had blown off the clouds, and the patrol was exposed to the bright light of a gibbous moon. German sentries on the alert were very jumpy, and despite Cpl. McCrimmon's brilliant imitation of a rat, they watchers were alert enough to sound the alarm and bring first the area's Feldwebel and then the Leutnant from their warm billet in the command post up to the front line to see what might be brewing. On the way past one of the frontline troop refuges, the Feldwebel stuck his head in and called out the Gefreiter in residence and his Gruppe, in case any serious shooting needed to be done.

McCrimmon had been so pleased with his rat imitation that his section had lagged far behind the others. And while Sgt. Maj. McDonald's zeal in ensuring, personally, that the path through the wire was clear of wire, lines, pit traps, mud holes, and perhaps giant barking spiders, his habit of nipping forward on his own, then back to get his men, then forward on his own again was slowing his section down to a crawl. Several privates in the back were seriously considering pulling out a deck of cards. After all, the moon was giving almost enough light.

The patrol's leader, Lt. McPherson, was having none of any of this. His group of picked riflemen, rifle grenadiers, and bombers moved slowly, it was true, but that was due more to the uneven ground and the mud than anything short of zeal to get stuck in. Perhaps wearing gas masks was a bit overegging the pudding of caution, but there had been reports of nasty tricks further up the line, so he wanted to take no chances.

Finally they had the front line trench in sight! But what was this? The telltale profile of spiked helmets filing into the position from a communication trench! Signalling to the rifle grenadiers to let loose a volley, McPherson unholstered his Webley, waited for the bombs to rain down on the Hun, and then led his boys forward in a charge, yelling like Red Indians.

Not overly alarmed by a few bombs falling on them, the German troops gave a good account of themselves, and the Canadians found it impossible to get a foothold in the trench. McPherson rallied the retreating men and tried to assess whether a second assault would prove efficacious.

He rather thought not. A German Spandau had opened up and was spraying McDonald's men with fire. And in the distance he could hear hoarse shouts and the sound of running boots like a herd of cattle approaching. He could only assume that the nearest counterattacking party had been alerted and was flooding into the area. Best to move back to Dominion lines and have a try on another occasion. The Germans had just been too ready this time.