ISABELSTADT (Reuters)- There are reports of renewed intense fighting along the frontier tonight from the small alpine country of Mantovia. The sound of heavy artillery can be heard in the nations capitol and there are reports of heavy columns of Tartarian tanks making deep penetrations....

Hauptman Johannes Wahl was shaken awake by his driver. "Sir! O Group at the CP!"

Wahl made the short walk from the back of the Landrover where he'd been trying to sleep to the collection of radio vans. Pushing under the camouflage netting he found the Brigade Command Post to be a buzz of carefully camouflaged activity with an edge of panic. The Brigade Commander was listening to a report from one of his Intelligence Officers, who was drawing on a map . Big angry red arrows were exploding across the Area of Operations.

The General looked at him. "Wahl, the Tartars have broken through the 2nd Dragoons at Grossklumpen and are pushing up the Duppleburg valley. The 1st Fusiliers have got a weak company strung between Kleindorf and Altendorf here." He indicated a pair of small villages on either side of a wooded valley with a big red arrow pointing directly to the fields between them. "I need you and your Centurions to reinforce them. Gruber will give you details on route and intelligence estimates. Get moving, now!"

They drove through the night towards the thunderstorm of Tartarian artillery that rumbled and flashed in the dark sky. When his Centurion growled into Altendorf, he found a worried and exhausted Fusiliers Hauptmann outside a gasthuas. "Thank God you're here! I've only just arrived myself. No time for mines or wire. I've got my landsers in the houses covering the intersections and some panzerjaeger and machine gun teams strung along the road connecting the two villages." Wahl conferred with his tank commanders and they deployed one platoon behind each village to create a cross fire in the fields. Wahl posted his command tank on a small wooded hill from where he could direct the battle and call in artillery fire.

Comrade Platoon Commander Stepan Bosvic was in the hatch of his BTR watching the sunrise over the mountains while his Motor Rifle Platoon drove past an old factory. The afternoon before they had followed behind a devastating artillery barrage and driven past burning tanks and foxholes filled with bleeding shattered men. It had been a night of flames and chaos as onwards they rushed. His platoon was to secure the village he could see past the trees up ahead. They'd dismount just outside of the village and methodically clear the houses and then enjoy whatever food these Capitalists had hoarded in their kitchen larders. Just then he noticed the squat square outline of a tank emerge from behind a house. "Dismount!" he shouted, too late.

"Target front! BTR. One Five Zero meters. Fire!" The 20 pounder cannon roared, shattering the morning quiet.

"Everyone out!" screamed Comrade Platoon Commander Stepan Bosvic as he watched his lead section die in a fireball. His section dismounted to the right of the road, scrambling through the bushes. The other section dismounted to the left and began advancing towards a copse. Some light mortars found them still in the open. Before they could get among the pine trees and approach the village under cover, automatic rifle fire erupted from the windows of a yellow house. Comrade Platoon Commander Stepan Bosvic and half of the men with him went down, bleeding out into the tall grass. The remains of the section ran back down the road as a second BTR exploded behind them.

Hauptman Wahl watched as one of his Centurions put a couple of high explosive rounds into the red house captured by the Tartarians. Fusiliers covered by machinegun fire from an upper story then dashed across the street. The muffled bang of some grenades and brief chatter of rifle fire. After a few moments a couple of Fusiliers emerged with a bleeding prisoner.

Feldwebel Mueller walked over. "Looks like they've fucked off back down the road." He paused. "For now."

Wahl accepted the canteen cup of tea his driver handed him. "Ja. For now."

Aftermath

So ended a solo, highly indulgent, game of I Ain't Been Shot Mum. I used some stats for T54s and Centurions provided for me by a contact on Bluesky who plays Fate of a Nation, the Arab-Israeli War variant of Team Yankee. I will probably adjust these for future games, and lean more to the stats someone came up with for Korean War and Yom Kippur War IABSM.

It was just hedonistic fun getting the toys on the table and enjoying the look and feel of things. This was very much the sort of game I had in my imagination as a kid. Since I had primed the Mantovian infantry with olive green spray paint, I felt very much like I was 12 again, painting my Airfix figures. And to be honest, the paint jobs on the infantry are no great hell and probably what I would have achieved as a teenager to be honest. But they look the business at arm's length and do the job on the table.

I suppose for better scenario balance the Mantovians should get fewer Centurions (boo!) or the Tartarians need more T54s and infantry. Or I could reinforce the Tartarian armoured attack with some T34/85s too. They'd be weak, but they'd still be a threat to be dealt with. I did give the Tartarians artillery support and airstrikes, but the cards never came up for the artillery and the air support didn't make it's die roll.

James Mantos