A tale of two worlds

The Battle of the Sands.

Conclusion.

This was a victory to the British but at a very high cost. Although all their armour had in fact survived their cavalry was completely wiped out and their infantry suffered huge losses (including those cowardly Scots…no oatcakes for them). The Rhinox were experiments which worked fairly well though need tweaking some.  I think that one day we’ll need to do an armour only battle as these pieces tend to stay fairly static to allow them to fire, and with turrets they become firing platforms trying to take out the more nimble units of cavalry and infantry.

The Battle of the Sands.

Part Two

The Prussians meanwhile had decided to leave their spider tank in situ and use the twin turret mounted Gatling Cannons to sweep across the infantry and armoured cars, with their smaller armoured cars advancing to more tactical positions. Both the Orca and the Pob took hits, and a number of the highlanders fell into the dust.

Back with the Rhinox, Captain Grey managed to goad his mount into a furious charge…which completed!  All three of the beasts charged through the ranks of the Marztruppen, who tried their best to get out of the way of four tonnes of potential sausage. Half the unit did not manage this feat and many were simply crushed. The Rhinox halted at the end of their charge distance…but right adjacent to the Prussian tanks!  Not a good place to be.

Meanwhile the Prussian regulars led by the infamous and rather portly Hero Count Heinrich Helmutsson were dashing through the floatwoods towards the Berkshires. The Hephaestus managed her sustain role and the gunner rolled a 1 to hit. ‘Hurrah!’ cried the navy, as the shell landed slap in the middle of the wave of advancing blue.

Back on the British left flank, those sneaky fliers had used the Creekbed for cover before launching a vicious attack on their rear, leaving half the unit dead as their machine guns cackled away.

In reply they managed to destroy most of the fliers and the single remaining model decided he’s had enough.  However, their attention had been distracted by the fliers for long enough to mask the advance of the remaining cavalry, who crashed into them.  A furious melee ensued in which the surviving Prussian cavalry officer managed to keep his men from fleeing and kill the Scots officer. Seeing their leader killed the Highlanders decided to call it quits and left the table.  Now only a single armoured car and the heavily damaged walker held the left, although the Prussians had too few men left to press their advantage.  In the centre meanwhile the Berkshires met with the depleted ranks of the Prussians.  Their greater numbers took their toll, as did getting the initiative.  However, the remaining seven Prussians remained true to their great leader and returned quite a devastating volley that forced the British back into cover.

However, the epic that was being played out was on the right side of the table. The Rhinox, taking an entire turn to turn around were shot at by the remaining soldiers (those unflattened ones anyway). One of the shots got lucky, disabling one of the Rhinox tails and reducing the armour value of another, while another shot managed to blow up the Naptha tank on the side of Captain Grey’s beast.  The Hero managed to make his save roll and landed a few feet away from the Prussian main tank, still on his feet, to polite clapping.  Wiping his rather singed moustache, he leapt for what remained of his saddle to re-mount.   Just as he did this the main tank fired at point blank range into his beast.  Surely they could not miss…but they did!   We were playing in this game a method of working out where failed shots landed..and this one landed only a few feet away from the tank, catching itself in its own blast radius and knocking it out of action!  The beast also took extra damage but managed to stay on its feet and Grey had survived a second time!  Luckily the remaining armoured car was trading shots with the Pib, which was racing (well, ambling gently) to the aid of the captain and his men. Who in the meantime had charged for a second time through the surviving soldiers.

Men and beast fell until all that remained were the Marztruppen captain and one of his men, battling it out with fist and sabre with our wounded hero, who by this time had survived another detonation from his mount (which had finally killed it) and two sword thrusts.  Grey parried and thrust his sword through the breastplate of the German leader and swivelled to receive and give the killing blow from his last opponent.  Both forces on the flank had completely wiped each other out!

Things were starting to look bad for the Prussians. Their last cavalry wiped out by the rattling guns of the Pob and their armoured penny farthing lying gently sizzling before the Orca (whose flamethrower had finally worked), their last hope was inflicting damage with their spider tank. Heinrich

Helmutsson led a last desperate (well, as he was the only remaining man in his unit) charge at the lumbering Hephaestus to be finally picked off by the rifles and Gatling gun of the ship’s crew.  The end was in sight.  The remaining Berkshires attacked the legs of the Spider which at last turned to face the British.  But with its commander and driver killed in the barrage of fire aimed at it, it surrendered.

The Battle of the Sands.

Part One.

Captain Grey of the Heavies shifted his weight in the saddle to ease his old wound as his Rhinox made use of its time to chew a redweed bush beneath him.  He could hear the beasts copious teeth making short work of a plant with all the softness of barbed wire and wondered, not for the first time, what the inside of his stomach must look like.  He slowly turned the field telescope around the low hills, but there was still too much dust to see clearly. This filthy wind had kicked up so much dust in the past few days that the steam conveyances were seizing up.  He could hear their tortured joints behind him as they struggled to maintain their pace.  Only the Rhinox seemed not to care much, whatever the weather threw at them

Their mission had begun three weeks before.  Using hit and run tactics it was hoped to break up the Prussian advance while the different columns had yet to converge in their attack on New Brighton.  It was clear that the British Imperial force was much too small to hold but a small section of line around the bastion of the city, making it far too vulnerable to short range nef bombing and siege artillery.  If the supply lines could be cut or severely hampered then at least it might buy some time for reinforcements to arrive from Britain and her allies the Russian and Confederate States.

Several flying columns had been sent out, including Greys.  And so far their mission had been very successful.  Four Prussian supply columns had been destroyed including a large artillery unit, and a further large unit had been forced to make a retreat.  But their position was becoming increasingly tenuous and the hunter was becoming the hunted.  They had been spotted yesterday by a Prussian nef patrol and had already evaded one force sent to find them, though mainly by entering the sandstorm which they were just emerging from.  Their only hope now was to get back to their lines as swiftly as possible.

Sergeant Norris emerged from around the crags in front of Captain Grey and pulled his Rhinox to a panting halt.

“Waterhole sir..about a kilometre away. It looks like the one the Drune marked out for us sir…has the cleft rocks just like they described”

“Very well sergeant. Signal the column to advance.  I daresay we could use the water…even these fellows” he said, looking down as yet another redbush disappeared into the gaping maw of his riding beast.  His mount began a guttural growl as his brain registered the presence of the other Rhinox, fearing possibly the theft of his redbush.  Grey gave him a whack with his iron poker.  Best not let them start fighting.  They were placid beasts, on the whole, and as long distance mounts through this land they could not be beaten.  But heaven and earth would not stop a Rhinox that had decided to charge at something. Grey had once seen one of his troopers frantically clinging on as his mount had hit and turned over an armoured car belonging to the Duke of Cambridge’s light infantry.  No-one had told the poor fellows about the colour green….

The pale sun was starting to grow weaker in the sky as the British column limped into the oasis.  The dust was settling now, enabling the men to take their dust masks off and wipe them.  Lieutenant Hughes of the armoured car brigade was just about able to see the long row of hills to his north for the first time in two days.  He raised his periscope and turned his turret while opening the hatch to let at least a little fresh air into the cauldron that was the HMMS Pib.  His hand froze.  There, not two hundred meters away was another column.  Long rows of soldiers, cavalry and tanks.  The Prussians!

For a full twenty seconds the two columns, travelling in different directions, looked on at each other before recognition set in.  Then there was a brief moment of almost silence when all that could be heard was the thumping regularity of steam boilers and wheezing pistons.

Then, all hell broke loose.

Well a mighty pickle the British had got themselves into, moving alongside a Prussian column in a sandstorm and not seeing their adversaries until you could chuck a haggis in their nearest funnel.

The British forces on the nearest table edge are led by the indomitable HMMS Pib (a rather nice Ironclad armoured car), followed by the lumbering and temperamental Rhinox patrol led by Captain Grey.  Following them the 58th Poobah Lancers, the rather rusty four legged HMMS Hephaestus, a platoon of the Berkshires, the bipedal HMMS Orca with its rather nasty flamethrower, a platoon of highlanders and lastly Pib’s cousin HMMS Pob.

On the Prussian side a party of his heli-troops are scouting ahead, followed by an armoured car, the monstrous spider tank with twin turrets, a large group of Lancers, forty infantry, another armoured car and a medium tank.

In the first turn most of our steam armour managed to break down, although some did manage to about face.  This left it up to the infantry and cavalry to start the proceedings. The Berkshires raced up onto the dunes running parallel to their adversaries so they might get a clear view.

They were in time to see the glorious, colourful and ultimately FINAL charge of the Poobah Lancers as the massed ranks of forty infantry including the elite Marztruppen opened fire. Wiped out to a man!

Meanwhile, Captain Grey had only just managed to control his beasts and was following in the footsteps of the doomed lancers, whose sacrifice had at least managed to get his unit into charge range next turn.

If only the beasts would be goaded by the green rag!

Meanwhile the Prussian lancers, oblivious to the carnage inflicted on their opposite numbers, rushed through a gap in the oasis floatwood trees to charge the unit of highlanders who had taken up firing positions along a dried creek bed , covered by the Pob.

Oh dear!  A short distance roll meant that they didn’t quite make it.  And the doughty Scots got off a volley, crashing into horses, pickelhaubes and floatwood trees.  Horsemen and their mounts tumbled into the creek.  The unit however was far from obliterated and the three officers had all managed to remain in the saddle leading their men.

Meanwhile the British had finally managed to start up the Hephaestus but their first shot was a miserable one as Commander Huntleigh-Burns could attest to as he viewed it from the top deck.

The Battle of Horst’s Ferry.

Conclusion.

Well a draw I suppose.  The Prussians got to destroy the tower and caused a good deal of terror but the majority of the refugees and soldiers escaped, along with some very valuable prisoners.   It was great fun to finally get some aerial ships going as well as cavalry as it really moved the game along quickly and presented many new angles of attack (and considerations for defence). It was really hard getting the balance of forces right for this one with the Prussian side having a lot of armour and air ability and the Brits having a lot of well dug in rifles. These certainly stopped the Prussian infantry pretty well but were fairly powerless with the big beasties…probably just how it should have been.

The Battle of Horst’s Ferry.

Part Two.

A great cheer went up from the defenders, only to be stifled as they saw the looming shape of the zeppelin bomber appear!

HMMS Elgar’s crew had some luck with their Gatling gun (they had fired the RA crew by this point) in damaging the front weapon of the lead spider but disaster struck as their engine conked out!  Unable to use their main weapon, the crew valiantly swept the approaching Prussian units with their machine guns as behind them units began to fall back.

The last of the attack ships swept by the semaphore tower, small arms fire bouncing off it as it approached.   The British would have loved to have tried to board men by jumping off the semaphore tower into the hull but the movement dice didn’t allow it!

However, the ship then landed just adjacent to the ferry ramp ready to disgorge hordes (well, a dozen or so) crack troops and a secretive agent!   The refugees who by this time had almost reached the ramp milled around in horror as they saw their escape route blocked and got in the way of the Berkshires and Bombay infantry trying to get to the ship, led by the Corporal astride a horse he’d ‘borrowed’.

Meanwhile the bomber approached nearer as the Prussian infantry began their breakthrough with the second spider tank, and met the second line of defence at the rear of the ferry buildings. The Prussian assault troops leapt from their landed craft across the ramp, sweeping the ferry with flamethrowers that killed most of the crew, including Captain Shamrock. Luckily massed fire from a small unit of Indian infantry and the remaining crew killed enough of them to force their surrender. While they were taken prisoner and herded onto the boat (including the secret agent..) in front of an avalanche of refugees , soldiers and horses the remaining rear-guard poured everything they had at the bomber. “Java’ Thwaites put down his cup for only the second time that morning and pulled his signalling pistol slowly from a pouch.

The bomber came closer and obviously was about to ram as he fired into the ship, his phosphor flare setting two crew alight but alas not saving Semaphore tower 21, which with the great noise of tearing steel girders and splintering wood fell sideways over into the canal. The falling wreckage killing a number of the remaining rear-guard as they fled, firing over their shoulders.

The last of the refugees aboard and as many of the soldiers who could get to the ship in time, the ferry departed intact. None of the settlers had survived the assault and the Indians had been quite hard hit too. None of the naval brigade managed to escape, as HMMS Elgar and the first Spider mutually destroyed each other.

However, climbing aboard the ferry having survived a tremendous dive into the canal was signaller Thwaites, still clutching his best china cup. He had however lost the matching saucer…so the gloves were really off now.

The Battle of Horst’s Ferry.

Part One.

Semaphore 21 stood beside the Mars Grand Trunk Canal at the town of Horst’s Ferry. Rearing almost 200 feet into the air its vast bulk was covered with gears, lamps, cables and signalling devices, making it look a little like a Christmas tree during the day and a strange and ominous giant at night. The Drune called the Semaphore of the Royal Signal Corps ‘Om – Nagi’, which translates to ‘silent watchers’.

The pre-dawn wind was blowing in chill across the plains from the low line of the Mephisto Hills to the west, making the tower creak and sway. Not that this troubled Signaller ‘Java’ Thwaites in the slightest as he sipped at his fourteenth cup of tea that evening as he stood watch. What did trouble him was that with the exception of the Trunk Canal stations 20 and 22 to either side of him there were now no lights to be seen from the west. Well, signal lights that were. Every few minutes the horizon would light up as guns rumbled many miles away. They grew louder as the wind picked up.

He heard the heavy footsteps on the ladder of signaller Toby. He’d just been despatched from central and was unused to the climb. He was puffed by the time he got to the top. “Sir, we’ve lost the last relay. Kitchener has fallen. That’s as well as White Plains and Derby Canyon. There’s nothing left between us and them now sir…”

“Sir…what now sir?”

His voice trailed off a bit as the fullness of this news sunk into his own brain. They stood in the darkness for a moment, the only sounds the rumble of artillery, the creaking of the tower and the sharp clink of bone china as signaller Thwaites set his cup onto his saucer.

“Corporal, there’s always time for a cup of tea.”

The first refugees started arriving just as the sun was rising. Firstly they came in steam driven vehicles….cars, lorries… wheelbarrows. The settlers, wide eyes and frightened children, wounded soldiers strapped to limbers and groaning whenever they hit a bump. Horsemen pulled carts and carriages loaded with worldly possessions. The ferry had been running to the far shore on half hourly intervals. Now it was down to ten minutes. The docks were a mess of soldiers without officers, children trying to find loved ones, noise, smoke and confusion.

There was the sudden and deafening sound of a Gatling gun being fired. Corporal Wellard of the Guards surveyed the scene from atop the roof of the ‘Painted Lady’ wharf inn and wondered what strange crime he had committed to be put in charge of this lot. Not being a man of a great many words, the Corporal stood atop the sandbag pile and at the two hundred faces looking up at him who were suddenly all attention. Heroic speeches failed him.

“Right you lot!” he yelled in his ‘special occasions’ voice.  “I know you are tired and I know you want to get on that boat but by crikey I can ‘it every one of your God fearin’ bonces from up ‘ere with my mate Mr Gatlin…so get in line!!”

Finally the mob became a queue of some description, thanks mainly to a squadron of well-disciplined lancers who gently but forcefully herded the people.

Meanwhile Torvald Horst surveyed his domain. The float tree plantation had been built with the blood and sweat of his family for two generations and no-one was to take it from him. He loaded his 12 bore shotgun with pig-shot and looked at his men. “They don’t take our land. You fight them for it boys. You fight them dirty. You fight them hard. And when they bear down on you, you look them in the eyes and you fight them some more”. The float trees were glowing now as if on fire in the low rays of the sun. His men positioned themselves around the farm, raised the sights on their Mauser rifles and waited.

The last boatload departing, Captain Shamrock and his Drune crew have landed one last time to pick up the last defending soldiers.

But wait! Another large refugee convoy is approaching from the west! And hot on their tails seems to be the entire Prussian aerial Navy who are bombing them as they flee! Shall we leave them to their fate?  No sir..that is just not the done thing!

The lancers line up, the sunlight glinting on their steel tipped bamboo spears. And somewhere high up in Semaphore tower 21 was the sound of a kettle boiling…

The Prussians are carrying out lightning swift strikes all along the western edges of the British Martian Protectorate and have sent Queen Victoria’s forces reeling back towards the capital, New Brighton. The Grand Martian Canal stands as a line of defence in the way of the Prussian advance but also threatens to cut off a great many refugees and retreating men as they desperately try and make their way back to new defensive positions. One ferry crossing point is at the hamlet of Horst’s Ferry, a modest collection of buildings serving the ferry passengers and acting as a trading post, plus of course the two dozen or so floatwood plantation workers.

We chose to play on a 12 ft by 6ft table to allow the aerial component of the game a bit more freedom of movement…plus it was great fun to get so much terrain on one table!

The Forces;

British

20 of 1st Battalion Berkshires

20 of 35th Bombay Infantry

1 unit of 10 Bengal Lancers

12 Settlers led by the famous ‘Horst’ himself

3 Signallers manning the semaphore

22 non-combatant refugees

1 Gatling gun manned by 3 naval brigade crew

1 Small steam artillery piece

1 Large walker ‘HMMS Elgar’ with crew of 6 Navy

8 Crew aboard the paddle steamer ‘Donegal Lady’

Prussians

3 Light to medium aerial navy attack craft, each containing Clanks with grenade launchers

1 Medium bomber aeronef

12 Prussian attack marines

60 ish (?) Infantry including regulars and Sea-battalion

2 Attack spider walkers with heavy Gatling Cannons.

The Prussian objective was primarily to destroy the ferry to cut off the escape route and secondly to try to destroy the semaphore tower to cut communications.  Their third objective was to create terror and panic by bombing the refugees.  For the British the objective was to hold the crossing until all refugees and troops could be evacuated.

The game began with the refugees coming onto the table and fleeing along the plantation road with all three aerial navy craft in hot pursuit. On the other table edge the first spider tank appeared with two formations of infantry.

The defenders were pretty well dug in behind barricades and sandbag defences, with several platoons broken down into smaller formations atop roofs, on terraces etc).   The settlers and Indian infantry held the right flank, the British regulars the centre and crossing point and the lancers had the left. The town was also partly defended from ground attack by a dry gully that ran down to the canal.

The aerial navy came on at a good rate of knots and the Bengal lancers rode out to meet them, perhaps hoping to do some damage by prodding their armoured hulls with their lances…. As they swept under the first craft they were met with grenades from above which instantly killed the leader! But leaderless they still rode on to where a unit of Sea-battalion were threatening to overtake the civilians, who had also taken casualties that turn from the bombing.

The next turn saw most of our ground forces biding their time as they closed to within range. The Lancers began to close with the Sea-battalion but alas took another pasting from above, this time losing three more horsemen.  However, they passed their morale and continued.  Hurrah!  Even better, one of the air navy failed it’s sustain role and began to lose altitude alarmingly.

The refugees rolled well on their charges but took another four casualties to bombs before reaching the sandbag barricades which they started to leap over, disrupting the troops behind. HMMS Elgar finally managed to get a shot off at the first spider tank but missed the first of four times.  The Gatling guns finally opened up however and if doing little damage at least made the spider tank captain consider pausing just outside of short range until his supporting infantry caught up…a move that allowed me precious time to try to get those refugees on that boat!  The lancers at last clashed with the Sea-battalion; a mutually destructive move that saw three casualties a side and both units break.  The last two lancers didn’t stop running until they were on the ferry!

A second failed sustain saw the first air navy ship plummet to the ground, decapitating a row of float trees whose tops strangely floated off into the ether.   However, the grenade launching clank and ‘wind up’ man survived and continues their pursuit of the refugees.

Things were finally hotting up with the ground troops, with two waves of Prussians attacking the farmhouse complex, where they found the natives very stubborn.

One sole rifleman took down four of the Prussians in hand to hand before finally being bludgeoned. Twice units of settlers broke but rallied and returned to the fight, even with the first spider tank bearing down and squashing a few.  One unit of Bombay infantry had moved up to assist them and just about managed to hold them off…until spider tank number 2 arrived!

Meanwhile back in the town the Berkshires atop the semaphore had a good clear shot at the second air navy ship as it came into range.

It was hit with small arms fire, Gatling gun and small cannon which caused it to lose steering control and crash into the ground, with most of the crew perishing in the ensuing fireball.

Establishing a Forward Outpost.

Part Three

… and lands a perfect hit!  Completely obliterating one of the fighting machines.

Slicers gain on the fleeing villagers.  The Slaver Tripod pushing them into a frenzy.

One after another the tanks of the brave forces of humanity are destroyed.

The ammo train feeding the Anti Tripod Gun becomes a rather attractive and vulnerable target.

Firing its last shot the Anti Tripod Gun unleashes its vengeance on the Scout Tripod.

With smoke obscuring visibility, the forces of man retreat, leaving the battlefield firmly in the hands of the Martian invaders.

Establishing a Forward Outpost.

Part Two

Both human and Martian forces trade shots doing little damage to each other whilst the civilians continue to flee the wicked blades of the Lobototon Slicers.  Even as they run a heat ray strikes out leaving a charred skeleton where once there was flesh and blood.

The Martian battle line, towers over the small farmstead as Tripods move into range of the waiting infantry.

The forces of humanity are not without a few tricks up their sleeves.  Forlorn Hope teams use grappling hooks to attack the approaching machines.  Planting explosives to cripple the huge machines.

The Red Martian, so named by the blood of its victims it sprays upon its armed shell, unleashes bursts of its heat-ray turning three tanks to molten lumps of metal.

Infantry push the assault on the Martians legs whilst tanks fire shot after shot into the globe like bodies.

Gunner Simmons takes careful aim…