Protect and Survive

On Monday the 3rd August 1885 a series of dust clouds blossomed across the Sinus Meridiani region of Mars. Astronomers in Chile were the first to spot them. The story broke in the Santiago papers two days later. They noted that the same phenomena observed five years earlier had presaged the arrival of mankind’s greatest foe, an evil race bent on the destruction of civilisation and the enslavement of all humanity.

News of the sighting spread around the globe like wildfire. In Berlin the British invasion plans were put on hold while in London an emergency meeting of the cabinet was called at which Prime Minister Gladstone reluctantly enacted the governments secret Monarch protocol. Within 24 hrs the home fleet had put to sea and hastily assembled army units began to fill the capitals as yet untried defences.

Well some of them did…

Corporal Figgis and Privates 239 Jones and 242 Jones were not in that much of a hurry to go anywhere as it happened, because B Company 1st Battalion South Wales Borderers had been tasked with the distribution of HM Governments new “Protect and Survive” pamphlet from a railhead at Moleshill. 

With the Lieutenant taking up residence in a plate layers hut the men of No1 section had escaped the evenings drizzle in the mouth of a twin tracked tunnel. Hidden from their sleeping Sergeant by a little nook of crated government advice, Corporal Figgis and two of his regular oppo’s had been playing cards, spending their rest period gambling away pay they had yet to earn. 

Figgis slapped down an eight of hearts and took a pull on his canteen while 242 Jones furrowed his brow at the contents of his hand. 

By the light of a guttering candle 239 Jones, who’d already worked out what he was going to play next, read slowly from a pamphlet teased from a crack in the crates behind him.

More of my made up pamphlet nonsense. 

“Ere, listen, this is a good’un,” he said. “When you ’ear the air attack warning, you and your family must see that the ’elp immediately gets the best china to a designated place of safety.”

“Makes sense,” agreed Figgis sagely, though in truth he’d been no closer to fine bone china than he had the Queen. 

Bereft of decent cards and about to lose a lot of imaginary money, 242 Jones suddenly stood up and sent their improvised table flying. 

“Bloody hell Len”, Figgis swore. 

Then he saw it too…

A flaming green comet arced slowly overhead, hitting the ground beyond the hills with a thunderous roar…

The earth shook, bringing down their tea chest Shangri-La in a clatter of broken planks and flying pamphlets. Moments later the tunnel mouth followed suit.

Sergeant Hobbes was first up - shouting “stand to, stand to!” but in the sudden smothering dust filled darkness order was impossible to establish. Eventually he relented and all went quiet apart from the coughing and cursing of the entombed men.

Heaving himself out from beneath the crates, still clutching the Protect and Survive leaflet, 249 Jones struck a match and held it up so he could include Figgis in its flickering amber glow. 

“I reckon we should go and ask after the safety of the Colonel’s tea set about now, don’t you, Bryn?” he said sarcastically.

The situation:

It took three days of shifting rubble before No 1 section managed to emerge dazed and unkempt from the tunnel entrance. Though the plate layers hut had only partially collapsed, the Lieutenant was not to be found. 

Bereft of orders and unsure of the situation Sergeant Hobbes decided to march his men the 20 odd miles back to their Company HQ in Peverill where fresh purpose and succour was most likely to be had.

As it transpired they didn’t get far from the railhead before night fell and they hunkered down by the side of the road to share out the remaining rations. It was as they took stock that they noticed the trees ahead had become backlit by a strange pulsing green glow. 

Figgis had seen that sight before as a frightened private defending Hounslow. He nudged a grey faced Len in the ribs. “Oy you gog* bugger,” he whispered urgently, “make sure you keeps your B an’M** close to hand, d’you ‘ear?”

242 Jones regarded the horizon. “And to think my mam said we’d be fighting the Kaiser next,” he said sadly. 

So then the mini campaign:

The map below is composed of a series of linked zones which the section must traverse from left to right in order to reach their Company HQ. A fleeing refugee has revealed that tripods now patrol the most direct route west, so the Sergeant must plot a course avoiding these powerful opponents if possible.

Moving from one map node to another will generate an encounter with a randomly generated Martian force, a randomly generated friendly reinforcement and a randomly generated “in zone” mission. The section only needs to get some of the men off the opposition board edge each time to win an encounter and move to another node, but completion of the side mission will add difficulty. Each map node bears a depiction of a prominent terrain feature that will feature in that zones battle.

As far as I can see if Sergeant Hobbes and his men continually move west there should only be between 4 and seven games in this, so that should keep the whole shemozzle short and sweet. If any of the original section get to the HQ node on the left I’ll count that as a win for humanity! 

After a little experimentation I have adopted Mr Lambshead’s no dice rules for these skirmish battles with a small addition to cover the unusual weapons and tactics of the AI Martian player.

TTFN

* Gog - derisory name for the north Welsh.

** B&M - Baker Monroe breath preserver. Allows 5 minutes “loiter time” in Martian black smoke…or thereabouts.