After Action Report– August 9, 06:30

Following the failure of the opening attack, the Lt. Colonel of 1^st Battalion (69^th Armored Regiment) relieved Company A’s Captain from duty. He placed 1^st Lieutenant Hillston (of 2^nd Platoon, Co. A) in command of the task force’s second assault of the bridges over the Mittelkanal.

[To aid readers unfamiliar with military jargon and modern weapon systems, I will use different colored text for Soviet and American units.]

The assault was preceded by an A-10 Thunderbolt (“Warthog”) attack run and artillery bombardment. The A-10 acquired and deployed cluster bombs against a platoon of BMP infantry carriers and BRDM-2S Sagger ATGW carriers in the tree line south of the central bridge.

At 06:30, 9 August 1985, Co. A and Companies G & H (2^nd Battalion, 8^th Mechanized Infantry Regiment), having regrouped, advanced from the vicinity west of Aspel. Smoke was deployed by artillery to cover the gap between the woods south of the canal.

All six artillery batteries at the task force’s disposal concentrated fire on the tree line at the last known location of a of T-72 tanks near the Birkenfeld bridge. All four T-72s of 2^nd Platoon (Company J, 4^th Tank Battalion, 40^th Guards Motor Rifle Berlin Regiment) were neutralized and unable to return the M1 Abrams’ fire as Co. A emerged from the smoke screen.

Co. H’s M901 TOW ATGW carriers went through the woods east of the smokescreen and engaged the BMPs of 3^rd Plat. (Co. E, 2^nd Battalion, 40^th Guards Motor Rifle Berlin Regiment) and the platoon of BRDM-2S’s . The M113s of Co. G followed through the woods behind.

After dispatching 3^rd Platoon’s T-72s, Co. A advanced towards the middle bridge, where 2^nd Plat. Co. A engaged 1^st Plat. Co. J. Two M1s and all five T-72s were destroyed in the exchange. The BMPs knocked out two M901s and then retreated through the woods back towards the bridge. After the loss of a BRDM-2S, the rest of that platoon also retreated through the woods towards the easternmost bridge, and on to Ritterbruch.

The American task force then split up. 2^nd Plat. Co. A and 1^st Plat. Co. G assaulted the west (Birkendfeld) bridge. 1^st Plat. Co. A and 2^nd & 3^rd Plat. Co G assaulted the central bridge. The M901s of Co. H approached the east bridge, engaged and destroyed the BMPs of 2^nd Plat. Co. E.

 South of Birkenfeld, the Soviet BMPs and infantry were overwhelmed by the M1 cannons, dismounted infantry and machine gun fire from M113s.

 American artillery fire concentrated on the central bridge. The BMPs morale broke and they fled to Ritterbruch, leaving their infantry on the north side of the bridge. The American infantry of 2nd and 3rd Platoons dismounted and successfully assaulted both bridge on foot, suffering some losses.

The American tanks and M901s then crossed the bridges, and engaged the final Soviet units in Ritterbruch. One M1, a number of M901s and the last platoon of T-72s perished. The few remaining Soviet units retreated north through Ritterbruch. 

 As the American forces assaulted the bridges, the A-10 came back for its second attack run. It failed to acquire any targets in Ritterbruch, and previously acquired Soviet units had been destroyed or routed, so it released no ordnance. 

Two SA-9 Gaskins and two Zsu 23/4s of the 2^nd Air Defense Battery, 359^th Guards Anti-Aircraft L’vov Regiment, on anti-aircraft overwatch engaged the A-10 as it passed overhead. The quad-autocannons on the Zsus were ineffective, but the rockets of both Gaskins hit and destroyed the A-10.

At battle’s end, the Soviets had lost an infantry and a tank company. A handful of units escaped north, and a single Soviet infantry platoon continued to hold the easternmost bridge. The Americans lost three M1s, most of the M901s of the anti-tank company, a couple M113s and associated infantry, and the A-10 Warthog.

After Action Report– August 9, 06:00

At 06:00, 9 August 1985, Companies A & D (1^st Battalion, 69^th Armored Regiment) and Companies G & H (2^nd Battalion, 8^th Mechanized Infantry Regiment) pushed out from the allied defensive line in the Wiehengebirge at Nettelstedt. Their objective– to seize bridges over the Mittelkanal in the vicinity of Birkenfeld and Ritterbruch.

On the right (east) flank, the six M113 armored personnel carriers of Company D’s scout platoon exchanged machine gun fire with and destroyed a Soviet BRDM2 scout car at a farmstead south of Horst. Half the platoon took up defensive positions there, while the other half moved on towards Horst. After routing a second BRDM2, they occupied Horst and set up a defensive screen to the north and east.

The M1 Abrams of Company A used their smoke generators to provide cover for the armored personnel carriers of Companies G & H following them. On the approach to Aspel, Company A took light fire from Soviet BRDM2 scout cars in Aspel and a small farmstead to the southeast. These were quickly eliminated or routed.

Company A took anti-tank guided weapons (ATGW) fire from the woods north of Aspel, losing one M1 Abrams of 3^rd Platoon. Two additional M1s came to a halt and refused to advance. The bulk of Company A, followed closely by the scout platoon of Company H, bypassed Aspel and engaged Soviet elements in the woods.

1^st Platoon of Company G dismounted its infantry to occupy the farmstead and then took heavy artillery fire neutralizing three of its four M113s.

Company A destroyed an ATGW weapons carrier and at PT-76 light tank in the tree line, but suffered the simultaneous loss of four M1 Abrams and an M113 from artillery fire and from a platoon of T-72 tanks in the woods just south of the Birkenfeld bridge.

Having lost nearly a third of its tanks, at 06:10 the commander of Company A ordered his company to retire from the field to a pre-designated rally point outside Nettelstedt. Unable to advance without tank support, Company G also withdrew.

Company D’s scout platoon remained in Horst. The scout platoon and anti-tank platoons of Company H took up defensive positions in Aspel facing north.

The Americans had little to show for their losses– a few kilometers advance and two villages. They had dislodged Soviet scout elements and reduced Soviet visibility over the battlefield. The next American assault would be bolder, and show greater tactical finesse.

Why I Fight: Play, Creativity… Art?

Most wargames do not have an especially creative element, beyond the tactics the players employ (and I’m not sure that playing an innovative game of chess, for example, is creative as much as it is clever).

My intention is not just to host a bunch of tabletop wargames. We will create a story (a fictional history) based on the outcome of those games. Most fiction writers know ahead of time what story they’re going to tell. They have themes or characters to develop, and the actual plot tends to be a delivery system to explore those themes or characters.

But what if we took, say, Animal Farm, and subjected it to arbitration-by-gaming? In the big battle scene where the animals evict the farmer, what if Orwell had decided the outcome of that battle by actually playing it as a game? Different characters may have been killed or wounded. The humans could even have won, changing the whole direction of the story.

In this project, I don’t have any predetermined outcome in mind. I’m just intensely curious about how it might turn out. I don’t consider myself to be any kind of novelist or fiction writer in this endeavor. A fiction will be created, but it will create itself. My role is in setting up the initial scenario, and then letting it work itself out.

Some authors describe their writing in a very passive way, describing the creative process as one in which the story tells itself. But in those cases, however little they feel their conscious mind is involved, the author is still in total control, even if only at the unconscious level. In this story, the players are in control. And the players’ actions will be limited by the rules of the game itself, and by the resources the scenario puts at their disposal.

I’m not sure what to call that. It’s creative. Maybe it’s storytelling. But, if it is storytelling at all, it’s a weird kind of storytelling. I don’t think I’d call it art. Though I would not necessarily argue the point if someone chose to call it art.

Third World War Schedule

I will be at the Super G on the following dates and times:

Sunday, Oct. 16, 10:00-1:00

Tuesday, Oct. 18, 10:00-4:00

Friday, Oct. 21, 11:00-5:00

Saturday, Oct. 22, 11:00-5:00

Sunday, Oct. 30, 11:00-5:00

Saturday, Nov. 5, 11:00-5:00

Depending on how much headway I/we make on those days, I may tack on more future dates.

It is helpful for my project for folks to come for long or short periods of time. And also to some singly or with others. I can make use of visitors in any variety of formats.

On Becoming a Gamer, Part the Second: Demanding More from Games

Most people play miniatures wargames the way they would a boardgame—as one-off, stand alone sessions. One game of Risk or Scrabble is not really connected to the next. Similarly, the way most people play involves no storyline or ongoing campaign. The background setting might be fleshed out (Middle Earth, the Civil War, Europe in the 1980s) but individual games are not usually understood to influence a broader gameworld (the fictional setting of the game itself).

 Most wargames are also built on rather flimsy premises. Two forces that face off and hurtle themselves at the other is a pretty common premise. Historical wargames are better for this, because there is a built-in context. But often a battle happens because, well, that’s just what Elves and Orcs do when they meet. Even in historical games, they aren’t generally interconnected. If the Confederates prevail over the Union at Gettysburg, that doesn’t create an alternate history influencing the next game. It’s easy enough to do. It’s just that most players don’t bother. Most probably aren’t interested in this aspect.

 One-off wargaming has been unsatisfying to me for a long time now. Especially given the effort and investment to prepare and play a miniatures game (the cost of models, painting, making scenery) it always seemed a shame to me that these games didn’t really matter, because they were not a part of something bigger.

 While my residency revolves around an inter-connected series of tabletop miniature wargames, I am approaching it to some extent as I would an ongoing role-playing game. I’m an unusual guy. I’m an unusual gamer. And I’m a really unusual wargamer.

 It is hard to parse out entirely how role-playing games influenced my friends and me. RPGs were such a big part of our lives, I think aspects bled into many areas. As intelligent children of liberal/progressive intellectuals, it was a given that we would develop powerfully creative minds. RPGs are an especially creative and unique kind of play, very different from that which normal kids encounter at home or in playgrounds.

 [Quick note—when I talk about RPGs, I’m always referring to pen and paper role-playing games, like Dungeons & Dragons. I never use the term to describe video games or any other type of game. Wikipedia does a fine job of laying out the distinctions.]

Role-playing games have a strong make-believe element. They are also generally ongoing, long-term games. The game isn’t over after a couple hours. Play continues session after session for days, weeks, and possibly years. Characters and story lines evolve. Even the gameworld can evolve, sometimes influenced by the player characters. RPGs require a certain degree of discipline, attention to rules and book-keeping that is not a part of normal children’s play.

This ongoing rhythm and the connectedness of one game to another would go on to have much influence on my other hobbies and even for my general aesthetic sensibilities.

 As a kid, I was the type of gamer most kids are—interested in killing monsters, acquiring loot and making my character more powerful. To the extent that I was interested in character development, it was mostly to make my character cool. The notion of playing a weakness, for the sake of character, did not at first occur to me.

As I got a little older, character and plot were more of a concern. I looked at rules less with an eye to exploiting them to become more powerful, and more as a vessel in which to explore a personality and see neat things happen in-game. I still played characters that more or less resembled me, or variations of me. But I, and my closest friends, branched out into unfamiliar types at a younger age than most other kids.

 In conjunction with higher expectations in terms of character development, we also started to put a lot of stock in realism. The games themselves did not need to be based on reality. We were happy to play games where heroes, monsters, magic, faster-than-light-travel, telepathy, etc. existed. But we wanted the world, and the events that unfolded within it, to be more or less realistic within the setting.

 Two not terribly well-known films were enormously influential to me– the 1981 sci-fi film Outland, and the 1976 film adaptation of Rudyard Kipling’s The Man Who Would Be King. Both were on heavy rotation on cable when I was young. Neither is really a favorite of mine, nor would they make a list of the best films ever. But I found (and continue to find) them impressive in their grittiness and realism. They are both stories where the details matter and where the chain of consequences of action and reaction are constant throughout. They caught me at the exactly the right age to capture my imagination and influence my aesthetic sensibilities. They helped set the bar for how I wanted my games to be.

 A preference for realistic books and movies, and a strong aversion to plot holes and inconsistencies in character was in place by age 13 or so. Again, I liked fanciful stories just fine, as long as they were internally consistent.

 I’ve never been attracted to RPGs where the fate of the world rests in the players’ hands. I don’t like to play powerful heroes. Big themes and big challenges just don’t hold much appeal. If dragons exist in a world, there should be few of them, not one in every cave. They should be a big deal—the kind of thing one hears about in legend. And meeting one should be the event of a lifetime. I like games where breaking an ankle out in the woods poses a serious mortal threat. Where running out of ammo actually happens. Where magic and powerful artifacts are not only rare, but potentially dangerous.

Even playing as kids, if a character skewered a peasant with a spear in sight of the town guard, we expected the town guard to try to make an arrest, and that they would recognize us if we passed through town a month later. We also expected that goblins would guard the entrance to their caverns, that piles of treasure would not be left unattended, or that mercenary scum like us (if we were playing mercenary scum) would not be paid in full until the job was done. We didn’t just expect it—we wanted it. We needed the gameworld, and its occupants, to behave realistically and to react to our characters realistically. It somehow robbed the game of its fun to beat an overly easy challenge or to get away with things we ought not to have.

 This desire and need for games to matter, as I experience mattering, is really why I’m doing this residency.

The Third World War, August 1985

In 1978, British General Sir John Hackett published the novel The Third World War: August 1985. It was a cautionary tale of a Soviet invasion of Western Europe, warning about what he regarded as a low level of military preparedness among NATO members. It created a stir, and in subsequent years many others went on to write similar stories, using Hackett’s suppositions as their backdrop. Harold Coyle’s Team Yankee and Tom Clancy’s Red Storm Rising are among the better examples.

The Third World War was extremely conventional, in the sense that it reflected mainstream thinking common among both Soviet and NATO strategists. The problems faced by both sides, in the case of Soviet attack, were pretty straightforward. Analysts in the Kremlin and the Pentagon had been crunching various scenarios for decades. Strategy and doctrine evolved over time, of course, but certain basic issues remained more or less stable.

 The fundamental problem was one of time. Neither side expected the annihilation of the other, or total and unambiguous victory.

 In Soviet ideological thinking, attack was always pre-emptive, necessary for their very survival. They had to capture enough territory to put them in a position to negotiate a favorable peace. If they could overrun, say, Austria, Denmark, West Germany, maybe the Netherlands and a bit of Scandinavia, they could negotiate with the US, UK and France to cede all of West Germany and chunks of other nations to them. This would have drastically diminished NATO power, ensuring the survival of the Communist way of life… or so such thinking went, anyway.

 However, in order to capture that territory, the offensive had to be decisive and quick, because they only had about two weeks to do it. That was the length of time it would take the United State to mobilize and start sending waves of reinforcements to Europe. On the NATO side, therefore, the overarching need was to delay the Soviet advance for that critical first week or two, while keeping trans-Atlantic crossing safe for US transport.

 While there would be many fronts along the entire length of Europe, most strategists agreed that World War III would be won or lost in Central and/or Northern Germany. From a military perspective there are two basic ways to crack the nut that is West Germany.

 One way in is right through the middle, through the Fulda Gap, which is the only significant break in the otherwise mountainous and wooded zone of central Germany. Once through Fulda, threatening the population centers around Frankfurt is relatively easy. Bristling with both German and American defenses, Fulda was the most direct, but also the most contested, path to breaking the West.

 The other way is across the North German Plain. With the exception of a few large rivers, it is great tank country, perfect for the rapid movement of armored columns. Besides rivers and the big urban centers of Hamburg and Bremen, it’s just a big, flat corridor to Denmark, the Netherlands and the Ruhr. The Ruhr was West Germany’s most productive industrial region and population center. The loss of the Ruhr could easily mean the loss of the war.

 The North German Plain is bounded to the south by east-west hills stretching roughly from Hannover to Osnabruck. Once Soviet forces “round the corner”, as it were, at Osnabruck, they would turn south and into the Ruhr.

 In this campaign, the war is five days old. Soviet forces brushed aside opposition in the north, crossing the Elbe and Weser Rivers, and are nearly across the Ems in force. German units were forced to withdraw from Hanover, but have maintained a defensive line from Hameln to Osnabruck.

 The Soviet Third Shock Army, after inflicting grievous loss to the enemy and making great strides, is decimated. Remnants have been tasked with defending the long Soviet left (south) flank from NATO counterattack. Its last remaining units have been consolidated into the 7^th and 10^th Guards Divisions to defend the 20 kilometers between Minden and Lubbecke, facing the Wiehengebirge (the Wiehen Hills).

 1^st Brigade of the American 4^th Mechanized Infantry Division is being committed to counter attack west of the Weser River. Its objective is to push out of the Wiehengebirge, cross the Mittelland Canal, and secure crossings over the Grosse Aue River, and allow 2^nd Brigade to pass through, where it can then disrupt Soviet support columns and bleed energy from the main Soviet thrust in the west.

 The overall zone of operation is 20 by 30 kilometers in the states of North Rhine-Westphalia and Lower Saxony.

Why I Fight: Play, Games & War

 

play: an activity engaged in for enjoyment or recreation

game: a competitive activity or sport in which players contend with each other according to a set of rules

 

So in war, the way is to avoid what is strong and to strike at what is weak. –Sun-tzu

Games are a form of play. Play can be with the aid of a game or not. Make believe and joshing around are play. Chess and baseball are games and usually also play.

We play for lots of reasons– for fun, to pass the time, to socialize and form connections to others, and so on. We play games for those reasons and others. One of the other common reasons is to win. Some are hell bent on winning, while others are indifferent. Even those who aren’t deeply invested still generally play to win, because the rules of games are tailored to pare down competitors to a final winner. The very structure of most games leads to a winner.

We have come to expect fairness in games. In Monopoly, everyone starts with the same amount of money. In chess, everyone starts with eight pawns, two rooks, etc. In a tabletop miniatures wargame, force size and composition can be determined in many different ways… but it is always equitable. Nobody really expects to walk into a board or miniatures game with guaranteed odds of winning or losing.

But war—real war—isn’t like that at all. Few battles are fair. Indeed, it is a poor commander who seeks a fair battle. Whether by the achievement of surprise, superior forces, high ground, or what have you, the competent military commander seeks every advantage possible. Fighting from a position of weakness only occurs due to incompetence, incomplete intelligence, bad luck, political expediency, or from complete lack of choice in the matter. Soviet military doctrine, for example, considered a 7-to-1 numerical advantage over an enemy to be the normal baseline for attack. They considered 3-to-1 to be the bare minimum condition to even contemplate a battle of choice.

One of the measures of successful command is the ability to force battle upon an unwilling opponent. Better still, it is the cunning to entice an opponent into an ill-considered battle of choice.

Games seldom reflect this reality. This satisfies our expectation of fairness, allows for the reasonable possibility of winning, and fosters competition. But it doesn’t simulate reality. Even historical miniatures wargaming, when otherwise realistic, almost always involves fair matches… usually under contrived conditions.

I’m interested in something else here. The games played during my residency might wind up being competitive, but that’s not what I’m after. Indeed, most of these games will probably be unfair. I want to explore what the outcome of these battles might be, under realistic conditions. I’m not invested in winning or losing. I just want to see what happens.

In this sense, my games at Super G may not actually be games, in the narrow sense of the word. They will be a form of play, occurring with the assistance of a set of rules, and within the confines of certain pre-determined parameters.

Those parameters are already established. The campaign will occur within a specific area of northern Germany. The size and composition of the Soviet and American units is set. Reinforcements, artillery, air defense, etc. are already known. The entire machine will be set in motion with the first game, and will lumber along in whatever direction players take it through the course of the campaign.

I honestly don’t know how it will turn out—whether the Red Menace will prevail or if the Americans will be able to turn back the invading horde. I don’t care all that much which way it goes. I just want to create a history of what happens, albeit an alternate/fictional history.

And there’s something about using play as a mechanism for creating this fiction that I find profoundly appealing.

What My Residency is Actually About: the Simple Version

My project revolves around a series of inter-connected tabletop miniature wargames. The game is set in the north German plain during a hypothetical Soviet invasion of Western Europe in August of 1985.

I anticipate playing eight to ten different engagements, each building on the next. Each game will likely take two to six hours to play out. I hope that friends, Residency supporters, and passersby at the Super G will visit and play. My first full day at the Super G will be this coming Saturday, Oct. 8. I will probably be there more or less all day long.

 For experienced gamers, the gameplay will be recognizable, even for those who have never played the particular set of rules or with modern micro-armor. For non-gamers (and I’ll be disappointed if I don’t get any) the games will probably be very much unlike anything you’ve ever played. The closest thing a non-gamer may know might be something like Risk. Regardless, I will walk visitors through the rules and whatnot, so no experience is necessary.

 These games will also be rather visually lush. We will playing with 1:285 scale tanks and other vehicles. The scenery, which is almost all handmade by me, includes hills, trees, villages, rivers, bridges and so on. It will look much like a model railroad setup or a diorama. But it’s better than that because you will be able to move the figures around and shoot things with them.