Tembe on the Hill

A prestigious address, soon to be contested. 

The last act of the Raid on the Tembe mini-campaign was fought today. A report from our correspondent with the column will follow soon.

* * *

In other news, Pendraken Miniatures will be holding their 20th Birthday Bash this weekend. The celebrations include 10% off all orders placed on Saturday and Sunday, so I'll take the chance to order some more 10mm AVBCW figures to bring the Socialist Militia and Flegg Fencibles LDV up to strength. I plan to add artillery and an armored vehicle apiece, along with Vickers and Lewis guns. 

I'm working on scenery in the same scale, and have found a neat method of producing hedgerows. A lack of some raw materials is slowing things up, but I hope to move it along soon.

 

Thoughts on the Jenkin's Mission Game

So, another hot day rolls into evening, and I can write up my thoughts on the recent game. I'm satisfied with the way it played out. A modification to the Sharp Practice rules helped give a more balanced game.

The previous encounters (the Ukrazi Village, Pond's Trading Post) were virtual walkovers for the British column. Heavy rifle fire reduced the warbands to impotence within fairly short order, and afterward it was just a case of mopping-up. Not very satisfying!

The change I made to the rules turned out to be the most significant I've done so far. Under the rules Groups can number up to a dozen or so figures, with a Big Man of sufficient Initiative able to combine three-four Groups to make a Formation. 

The British and Askari have the typical ten-man section, and are rated as Good for the British, Poor for the Askari. Before this game, the natives had operated in Groups of a dozen, and are rated as Regular. I decided to keep their rating the same, but to double them up into permanent Formations of twenty-four or so. This had the immediate effect of increasing their survivability and fighting power. 

Now native warbands can survive rifle-fire without gaining so many Shock points they become totally immobile instead of charging home. With two Big Men in the Formation, the junior in rank can get on with the job of removing Shock (steadying the men). As I count natives as Wallahs, they gain the advantage under the rules of another die per three men fighting when in Fisticuffs. This means another eight dice maximum for a warband, on top of what they already gain for melee. Suddenly, the warband becomes a serious threat to the Red Soldier, especially when he's caught by surprise.

The latest game demonstrated this. Capt. Pike's Barsetshire platoon lost five men in melee, the Ukraziland Rifles section seven. Post-game, I rolled a die, with 1-3 indicating death, 4-6 a bad wound. Of the five Barsetshire lads, three were killed outright, one was badly wounded and died of fever associated with his wounds (this was down to the latest Campaign Event card, which showed a death from fever among the British troops. I reasoned it would more likely affect a badly wounded man than one who was hale and hearty). One man was KO'd but otherwise lightly wounded, and returned to the ranks. 

Of the Askari, the dice were truly unkind: All but one of them were killed in action. Oddly enough, although the odds of a Big Man being killed in the game were quite significant, none on either side suffered so much as a scratch. Such is war...

And so we have the muster.

Lightly Wounded –Pvt. King, Albert.

Died of fever related to wounds – Pvt. Yeats, Richard.

KIA – Pvt. Chapman, Oliver; Pvt. Ward, Jack; Pvt. Monk, Lionel.

Ukraziland Rifles Section

KIA - Askari Anan, Yaw, Otieno, Unathi, Tinashe, Tau.

Although the surviving men of the Ukraziland Rifles were recovered from their rout, the section has ceased to exist as a fighting unit. The slavers' tembe lies ahead, and is likely to prove a tough nut to crack. 

Captain Pike has decided to bring the Barsetshire 3rd Section under Cpl. Powell ashore from the steamboat, and place the surviving askari aboard to guard the vessel. After careful thought, Pike has recalled Pvt. Hare to the platoon, and attached him to the war-battered 2nd Section. Hare has been doing Kitchen Patrol following his flight from the barracoon action some weeks ago, and was serving as such with other supernumeraries aboard the steamboat Lady Cynthia. Pike feels this will give him a chance at redemption. 

With luck and a following wind, I'll play out the last action of the mini-campaign this coming week.   

   

Action at Rev. Jenkins' Mission

The hellishly hot weather affecting the Midwest curbed any enthusiasm I might've had for being outdoors. I turned my mind instead to fighting the next action in the Raid on the Tembe mini-campaign - the Rev. Jenkins' Mission.

* * *

The gradual opening-up of Ukraziland to British and European exploitation has led to a number of folks trying their luck on the new frontier. One such is the Reverend Charles Jenkins of the Barsetshire League of Anglican Missionaires (BLAM). 

About a month ago Jenkins disappeared alone into the interior to set up a combined medical and religious outpost somewhere on the banks of the Ukrazi River. The steamboat Lady Cynthia recently made a scouting foray upriver ahead of the British column and sighted the mission, located in an Arab house not far from the east bank. Although the BLAM flag flew over the mission's roof, repeated blasts on the steam whistle elicited no response. 

On the scouting report reaching Capt. Pike, OC British Column, he decided that as the mission lay upon his course to the slaver tembe, he'd investigate. Deploying his troops in skirmish order, he approached the area, alert for anything amiss...

Capt. Pike leads 2nd section at a brisk walk through the trees toward the mission house. The Ukraziland Rifles Askari section takes center, with CSM Harrington away to the right.  

Harrington's suspicions regarding the undergrowth are justified when his sharp eyes spot movement. A large native warband lurks within cover.

Capt. Pike approaches the door to the mission house. The flag is missing, and no one answers his call.

Harrington forms his men into line and gets down to doing what he does best - directing rapid rifle fire into an enemy. The cover of the bush proves irksome. His section's fire isn't having the desired effect.

Not far off Capt. Pike gets an answer he wasn't expecting! A large native warband surges out of cover and slams into his section, sending it reeling back with casualties!

Once the Barsetshires win clear of the scrimmage, the Ukraziland Rifles respond to their comrades' distress by opening fire - only to find the attention of the entire warband turned murderously upon them!

The natives are victorious, driving the askari back in confusion. Their NCO manages to rally them, and they give a ragged volley. To their left, Captain Pike takes the opportunity to reorganize his men.

Over on the right, Harrington's volleys have stung the warband into motion at last. They emerge from cover and rush the section, only to run into vicious rifle fire.  

Goaded into attacking the askaris, the warband soon kill or drive off the remaining troops. Their sacrifice allows Captain Pike to ready his men for a counter blow.

Aware his previous performance hasn't been inspired, Bombardier Lal Singh seizes his chance. A well-directed shot causes more casualties to the warband. Their shock is accumulating fast...  

Over on the right, Harrington breathes an inward sigh of relief as the disciplined rifle fire drives off the warband. The rifle barrels are too hot to touch!

 "Bloody 'ell! 'Ees orf agin!" cries an unknown voice from the ranks as Pike leads them in a fierce charge into the disorganized warband. It's nip-and-tuck, with another two men falling to the deadly spears before the warband yields to the bayonets.

As the warband retreats, Pike orders Bugler Bates to sound Assembly. The clarion notes of the bugle summons Harrington across to his assistance.

Safe out of range of the deadly rifles, the Ukrazi leader N'Wenke exhorts his severely shaken warriors to make one last effort.

 The Barsetshires have formed-up, and are coming on with blood in their eyes. Lal Singh directs another well-placed shot into the distant warband, destroying what little cohesion it's regained.

A final volley persuades the tribesmen to withdraw and lick their wounds. Although beaten, they feel satisfied the honors of battle have been more equal this day. They've destroyed the native soldier-slaves of the White Queen, and given her own troops a bloody nose. Perhaps their witchdoctor spoke truth - fighting smarter and not harder is the secret.

As the smoke dissipated, Captain Pike directed a signal to be sent to the Lady Cynthia, cruising not far off on the river. Her commander, Capt. Murdoch, turned her bows to the shore and moored. The casualties were brought to the bank as the medical team went ashore, and a tent erected for their use.

The Reverend Jenkins was found in his mission house, bound and gagged but unhurt. He converses with Capt. Pike as soldiers carry food and water for their fallen comrades.

* * *

Some thoughts on the game and the aftermath will follow soon.

AVBCW - Unit Flags

Here are the flags for the principal units that'll be involved in my VBCW gaming.

First up, the Socialist Militia. 

Cooperating with - but not controlled by! - the above is the Socialist Women's Alliance. Their banner includes the angled arrows of the 1930's European anti-Fascist movements. 

The Flegg Fencibles Local Defence Volunteers have a relatively sedate flag, based loosely on an Elizabethan-era army standard. 

The red Cross of St. George shows their patriotism, whilst avoiding any kind of links to the notorious Edward VIII.

* * *

I hoped to play the next Raid on the Tembe scenario in my Colonial campaign setting this week, but family matters are going to eat up my time. With any luck I'll be able to fight out the encounter next week. 

AVBCW - Local Defence Volunteers

And so to the stalwart defenders of home and hearth, the Local Defence Volunteers. Much like the Clubmen of a previous civil war, the LDV are determined to stay neutral in the conflict tearing the country apart.

This is a platoon of the Flegg Fencibles, raised from the area covered by the Blofield & Flegg District Council. Some of their number are WW1 veterans. The majority are new recruits who've never seen war, eager to do their bit.

They are organized simply in four sections of ten, with a three-man platoon command. They wear a mixture of civilian and military clothing, with equipment derived either from the member's service in WW1, or gear issued to a Territorial Army soldier or Yeoman, who has decided to defend his home instead of the bullying government of some upstart monarch. 

Weaponry consists of Lee-Enfield rifles and shotguns, with the odd pistol for officer and NCOs. They lack LMGs and support weapons, but hope to acquire these soon. 

Their standard is based in part upon an Elizabethan-era flag, with the "F F" for Flegg Fencibles picked out in gold by doting womenfolk.

Again, all figures are Pendraken Miniatures from their Interwar AVBCW range. I hope to add cavalry, support weapons and an armored vehicle for each side in the fullness of time as funds permit. In the meantime I'm steadily working on making scenery for this scale. One thing I will add sometime is a railway track, N-gauge being appropriate for this scale.

~~~~~~~~~~

All being well I'll resume the Raid on the Tembe mini-campaign some time next week. The next cards have been drawn, giving Captain Pike the services of a local guide to the next way point - the Rev. Jenkin's Mission.   

A Very British Civil War - Socialist militia platoon

My order from Pendraken Miniatures arrived a couple of weeks ago, and I got busy painting 'em up. First off the block is the Socialist militia platoon...

...these lads and lasses are eager volunteers from the towns and cities, willing to do their part to reform society along more egalitarian lines - at the point of a gun if necessary.

Their uniforms are basically blue dungarees supplied by collectivized clothing factories in their hometown. A smart red "cheesecutter" cap shows their allegiance and solidarity with their comrades fighting in Spain. The platoon standard is based on an International Socialist banner, and reads British Socialists with a central motif showing a combined wheat-ear and cogwheel around a raised fist.

To the right of the picture is the women's platoon. They have their own banner which reads SWA for Socialist Women's Alliance. The two arrows allude to the anti-fascist insignia popular across Europe. Their colors are red, for socialism, and gold and silver, reflecting a recent speech by Annie Lee, Manchester's first socialist woman alderman, in which she said "Who needs gold and silver? Women are the true wealth of the world!"

Organization: The platoon has four sections of twelve, with a three person command element. It lacks light machine guns and support weapons, but there's every hope of acquiring these in the near future.

The figures are all from Pendraken's SCW range. The women's section commander and standard bearer were - ahem! - modified from male figurines using strategically-placed drops of filler.

I like the figures. They're clean-cast, easy to paint (I can work up a whole section in a couple hours), and easy to store. 

Next up, the Local Defence Volunteers, motto - Adepto mea terra -  Get off my land! 

The Relief of Pond's Landing

And so, at last, to the second of the battles fought in the Raid on the Tembe mini-campaign. The previous encounter saw the British column victorious after engaging the defenders of a Ukrazi tribe village. A day or so farther on, and a different situation has arisen.

That incorrigible merchant-adventurer Willoughby Pond, Esq, succeeded in establishing a trading emporium on the shores of the might Ukrazi River. Utilizing an abandoned Arab house on land owned by the friendly Kumyonda tribe, he surrounded it with a palisade and built a go-down (warehouse) and jetty for the goods which soon began to flow through his business.

Unfortunately for Pond, the Ukrazi tribe disputes ownership of the land. Furthermore, they had issued a warning to Pond the previous year detailing exactly what would happen to him should they catch him on "their" turf again. A recent defeat at Pond's hands notwithstanding, the Ukrazi are still sore at this upstart white interloper - and Pond no longer has his infernal battle machine with him...

Cut now to the British column, plodding its weary way through Africa's infernal heat. Captain Fred Pike of the Barsetshire Regiment is satisfied at the performance of most of his men so far, although one signally failed to come up to snuff. 

Lance-Corporal Powell, previously known as "Nosher" for his voracious appetite, now has the alternate nickname of "Moses." Pike, the adopted son of a Church of England parson, named the hapless non-com thus, for like the Biblical patriarch, Powell "wandered forty days and nights in the wilderness," after taking the wrong path to the previous skirmish, and failed to show up until the battle was well over.

It could've had serious repercussions in the fight. Powell's section formed a third of the composite platoon's numbers and half of its best fighting strength. Needless to say, Captain Pike resolved to make sure Powell wouldn't get lost in future.

Around mid-morning, the sound of sporadic gunfire begins to carry on the south-easterly breeze. "What do you think that's in aid of, Sergeant?" Pike asked CSM Harrington. 

Harrington pushed his pith helmet back on his head and gazed in the direction of the distant river. "I suspect it's coming from half a dozen or so muskets, sir. The timing suggests a skirmish of some kind, rather than a hunting party."

"Who do you think is out there?" 

"I'm not rightly sure, sir." Harrington rubbed the sweat from his neck and face with a grubby handkerchief and regarded his Captain with a wry smile. "Rumor has it an old friend of ours has established himself in these parts."

Pike looked blank for a moment then realization dawned. He groaned. "Oh, no! Not him!" He shook his head. "Very well, Sergeant, break out the ammunition and issue sixty rounds apiece."

Harrington saluted and went about his business. Pike stood and listened to the distant musketry, slapping at mosquitoes and cursing quietly under his breath. Within fifteen minutes Harrington returned, his expression clouded. "Sir, I beg to report a problem with the ammo. Some silly bugger in ordinance allowed the cases to get wet. The cartridges are corroded."

Pike stared at the non-com. "Is any of it usable?"

Harrington shook his head. "I'm afraid not, sir. All we have is what the men already have in their pouches. I've checked, and it amounts to four rounds apiece, shared out, like."

Pike uttered a soft exclamation that would've brought his schoolboy self a severe hiding from his foster father. He rubbed his jaw and thought hard. "We'll get to the river and signal the Lady Cynthia for resupply. For now, we'll have to do what we can with what we've got. Get the men fallen-in. We'll advance momentarily..."   

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The initial set-up.

Pond's Landing, with native deployment and a pod of interested hippos.

The Barsetshires arrive on the scene, the Ukraziland Rifles coming through the wood on their flank. Harrington waves the men forward.

Harrington is all too aware of the need to conserve ammunition, yet a golden opportunity presents itself as his section encounters an unwitting warband.

With tribal musketmen sniping ineffectively from the brush, the war leader decides to take the bull by the horns. With an ear-splitting shriek, the warband rushes the gate.

Most of the doughty defenders stand their ground atop the house, leaving a pair of guards to defend the gate itself. Pond's Dutch lady friend Miss Calida van Wert lets loose with her shotgun at a promising target.

A volley reduces the warband to near-impotence. Pike leads 1st section up on Harrington's flank.

All too aware of the ammunition shortage, Pike gets the bit between his teeth. Bayonets fixed, he leads his men in a fierce charge that slams into the warband. 

Unable to resist the fury of the Barsetshires, the tribesmen break and flee.

Over at the gate, the situation becomes desperate as the tribesmen break in.

Pike spares a few rounds for a volley to drive the warband away from the palisade.

Harrington also uses some precious ammo to the same end. Casualties on the warband are few, but, loaded with shock, they won't stand and fight any longer.

The shrieking warriors trample on one defender. His mate dead, the survivor makes a break for the stairs but is cut down in turn. Only the little band on the rooftop can stem the tide now - if they can.  

After a brief flurry, Miss Calida van Wert shows it's possible...

And help is at hand! Inspired by their victory, Pike and his men charge for the gates, catching the tail end of the warband as it tries to enter the compound. 

Between a rock and a hard place. The warriors stand their ground but fall beneath the sword and bayonets.

The end. In the skirmish that won him his nickname, "Furious Fred" Pike and his men break through the press and engage the remaining warriors, as Harrington deals with the musketmen and wards against further interference.

Trapped between the British redcoats and the stubborn defenders of the house, the leader of the warband asks for quarter.

Pike saw to the disposition of his men and the roundup of prisoners, before climbing the stairs to be greeted by the merchant, whose relief was evident on his face. Pike managed a smile for the man. 
"So, we meet again, Mr. Pond..." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As evening fell on the bloody day, the surviving tribesmen met other bands of their fellows. A conference of tribal leaders and the witchdoctor sat around a solitary camp fire, and discussed the situation.

"The red soldiers are too much for us," a sub-chief complained. "Our men fall like a wildebeest before a pride of lions."

"We must fight harder!" a chieftain insisted, stabbing at the ground with his spear. 

"No," the witchdoctor said quietly, his tone cutting through the growls of agreement like a knife. 

"What would you have us do?" the Chieftain protested.

The witchdoctor stared into the flickering flames, reading who knew what in the images. "We don't fight harder," he said. "We fight smarter..."
     

Twenty thousand visits!

I'm gratified to see the visitor total to this blog has passed the twenty thousand mark. It's always good to share the hobby.

It has been a rather busy few days for us, so the next game report from Daftest Africa will follow next week. For some reason the paragraph containing the origins of "Moses" Powell's alternate nickname went missing from the previous AAR, so the explanation will appear next time.

Action at the Ukrazi Village

Luck smiled upon me Monday, for I had time to fight not one but two scenarios from the Raid on the Tembe mini-campaign. 

They were games in which nicknames were earned, something any military man will tell you is important. The first conferred the alternative nickname of "Moses" on Lance-Corporal Frank "Nosher" Powell. The second saw the Captain himself named "Furious Fred." All will be revealed!

And so to the first game. 

Within two days of setting out from the port town of Yabhouti, Captain Pike's column drew near the Ukrazi River. A conversation with some locals of the Kumyonda tribe revealed the location of a small Ukrazi tribe village on the east bank of the river, not far ahead. Much put-upon by the more powerful Ukrazis, the Kumyondas were more than happy to spill the dirt on their hated rivals.

An hour after dawn, the smell of woodsmoke and animal dung on the westerly breeze told the soldiers they were close. Pike sniffed the wind and deployed his troops.

He attached himself to CSM Harrington's section, and led the way until the village came into sight.  Having established the location, Pike ordered the Ukraziland Rifles section forward. Moving into skirmish order, they advanced warily onto the field.

It wasn't long before the sharp eyes of a lone native sentry spotted the incursion and he immediately raised the alarm.

The first warband seized their weapons and issued forth from the village to battle the intruder.

Pike waited for Cpl. Powell to make an appearance on his right, but the non-com seemed to have gone astray on one of the many game paths in the area. 

Bombardier Lal Khan and his crew filled the void. They were relieved to find the ground level and relatively free of obstructions. As his crew brought the little gun into battery, Khan eyed the distant village speculatively.

Over on the left, Pike spotted movement in the bush. Birds flew up, crying in outrage at some hidden intruder. Could it be some wild animal? Within minutes Pike's speculation was answered. A Ukrazi warband ran out of the undergrowth, the speed of their advance posing a serious menace to the Ukraziland Rifles. Pike saw the askari were in a bad position to turn effective fire against the warband, so with bugle call and gestures he ordered them to withdraw from in front of his own section.

The Rifles fired a few parting shots to keep the warband's attention. The ploy worked, for the tribesmen hesitated, torn between charging either the askari or the Red Soldiers. Their front clear, the men of Barsetshire let rip with a volley.

The volley seemed less effective than Pike expected. He rubbed his jaw and glanced at Harrington, who shook his head. "I think it's the humidity, sir," the CSM said. "The men became acclimated to the coast. Here, inland and close to the river, it's a bloody sight hotter. They're distracted." 

"You're probably right, sergeant," Pike said and sighed. "Well, have a word with them. We need to be sharp with - what the devil?"

The warband had taken casualties but seemed to treat the firing with contempt. They shook their spears and shields at the slowly retiring askari and let rip with a shriek that raised the hairs on the back of Pike's neck. He looked over to the askari, and saw their reaction to be much worse. Even from a distance he could tell the war cry had rattled the native recruits. 

On the right flank the natives overcame their momentary shakiness and charged shrieking into the gun crew. The askaris were so surprised they had no time to fire into the mass before they came into contact. 

The fight proved short but deadly - for the natives. Bombardier Khan and his men, of stern martial race one and all, cut down three of the warriors at no loss to themselves. Baffled and hurting, the natives withdrew to lick their wounds.   

On the other side of the field, the fresh warband attempted to charge home, but several stiff volleys from the Martini-Henrys stopped them in their tracks. Another shrieked war-cry failed to impress the men of Barsetshire.

Back on the right the natives merged with reinforcements and charged again, this time at the Rifles. Another short, sharp melee ensued, again with the natives coming off worse.

When they withdrew once more, they left two dead for one dead askari.

The situation became critical for the Ukrazi tribe. No matter what they tried, the steady discipline of Redcoat and Askari proved too much. Lashed by rifle fire they retreated into the stockade, where Chief BembeL'Umba took stock of the situation.

  

He soon realized he had little choice. With great dignity he emerged from the village and appeared before the British forces. Captain Pike took one look at the dainty pink parasol held by the Chief's retainer and realized further conflict lay far from the Chief's mind. A parlay was in the offing. 

Giving a quiet order for his men to cover the party, Pike waited for the next move. An attendant placed the Chief's stool just so, and the great man sank onto it with a sigh audible from where Pike stood waiting. He walked forward and gave the man a courteous salute. In Yabhouti, he'd taken the trouble to hire a native a few phrases of Ukrazi in his spare time, and now they looked ready to bear fruit.
 
 "Good morning, sir" he said. "Do you wish to discuss terms..?"