More Lessons From History
We keep hearing that old adage "Amateurs think about tactics, professionals think about logistics," which is as true now as it was back in the years of the Pharoahs. Soldiers, of whichever historical age, need to eat and drink, they need a ready supply of weapons and ammunition, and they preferably need transport to carry anything especially large, numerous or massive. Neglect any of these and you're in trouble, for LOGISTICS is the invisible brake that will break an army - do you see wh O you do. Art!
Yesteryon we were rattling on about the Teuton's doomed Kaiserschlacht and how their leaders lied dreadfully to their soldiers to try and ginger them up, which backfired horribly. Teuton logistics, you see, were quite bad, because their General staff didn't really bother about them. Come the KS, you had Teuton lorries being driven with tyres made of steel, since they'd run out of rubber. The quality of ride these gave must have been a thing of wonder. Art!
Puncture-proof!
They would also have destroyed any road surface they were used upon. Then, too, the Teutons were always short of horses, one of the prime movers for their army then and in the Second 'Special' Military Operation. Ineed, Winifrith Elstob, the posthumous hero of Manchester Hill, urged his men to shoot any Teuton horses within range, on the logical lines that " - they can easily replace a man, they can't easily replace a horse!" His face is probably on RSPCA dartboards.
If we skip lightly o'er the decades, we find another illustrative example of how the Teutons, so beloved of the Wehraboos, were rubbish at logistics. Picture the scene: the Allies have landed in Normandy and the local Teuton defences are strained to breaking point. Herr Schickelgruber decides, in his infinite hubris, that the Second SS Panzer Corps is to be railroaded to the front lines. Art!
From The Ukraine, as it was then. A distance of 1,580 miles, as the crow flies and the train travels. It took them as long again to get from the French border to Normandy as it took them to traverse the 1,300 miles from TU. Art!
The Brylcreem Boys are back with bombs
Courtesy the Flying Tin-Openers. This is what happens when your logistical answer to everything is "RAILWAYS!".
Let us examine another example of Axis incompetence, the invasion of Egypt by the MIGHTY ITALIAN TENTH ARMY. Whom outnumbered the valiant British defenders by at least six to one (is this sounding familiar?) Art!
The problem was that a lot of the Italian kit was rubbish (again, does this sound familiar?), and that the rank and file were not keen on fighting for Il Duck, and certainly not happy about dying for him. Not only that, they marched at about the same pace as Caesar's legions, since they had so few trucks. They were up against a far more nimble opponent, as the British Western Desert Force was completely motorised, and could retreat, attack from the flank, come up at the rear or any combination of these. So the whole partially-mobile mass lumbered a mere sixty miles into Egypt and then stuck fast, waiting to establish proper lines of communication and have their supplies catch up. Art!
Italian hearts and stomachs sink
If you think "sixty miles" sounds impressive, judge that they still had 1,500 miles to reach Cairo.
Here endeth today's lesson on the un-sexy and non-glamourous yet vital topic of LOGISTICS. And you're welcome.
Conrad Laughs At The Coincidence Hydra
Thanks to my armoured underwear. Really, all the best people are wearing the same. No longer do I have to quiver in fear that a set of fangs are going to fasten in my fetters <snaps fingers>. To what do I refer? You recall that I was banging on about how Dimya is constantly hallucinating Harvey, the giant invisible rabbit? A lifetime of abusing vodka, don't you know.
ANYWAY I am also still reading "Reclaiming History" and what do we find at page 553? Art!
Nine lines down. Also a film, Mister Buglioso. What are the chances of that happening? Hmmmm probably quite high with a very detailed analysis of a man with the middle name "Harvey".
"Flow My Tears, The Policeman Said"
You know, for a drug-crazed sci-fi crusader, Philip K. Dick had unusual tastes and interests, quite apart from being a classical radio DJ. He also had an interest in religion, which crops up in works such as "Deus Irae" and others that escape me (nope not gonna search, on a tight deadline). Okay, what about FMTTPS? What on earth does the title mean? Art!
Brill cover. Only tangentially related to the plot, mind.
Okay, it's part of a song composed in the seventeenth century by John Dowland, which Dick split up and used as chapter headings in the novel. The title is from the first couplet, which goes:
And the 'Policeman' part comes from the fact that the novel is set in a dystopian South Canadian police-state.
Now we all know more than we did five minutes ago. And you're welcome.
Let's Have More Of Torment And Tribulation
Because relentless good times need a little salting with misfortune, or you'd never appreciate them. We are now up to page 63 of "Tormentor" but don't worry, I've got hundreds of thousands of words in other long-form fiction. Now, in the aftermath of the completely failed police search of his house , Luma tries to contact Father Geogham.
The
phone call to Father Geoghan didn’t catch the priest in. Another man, speaking with a
well-modulated
but foreign accent, promised to pass the message on. Louis went back to bad-tempered tidying and
cleaning, wondering if he could sue for the damage to his doorframe.
Forty minutes later, the doorbell
rang and he greeted both Father Geoghan and another priest, a dark-skinned man
with delicate features.
‘This is Father Escobal,
Louis. You wanted to talk?’
He gestured them into the lounge
and explained about both the spirit attack and the police search.
‘Detective Sergeant Oswald is
convinced I’m involved in the death of Eric Miller.’
‘You are,’ replied the priest,
bluntly. ‘Just not in any way he would
understand. May we see where this evil
spirit attacked you?’
He led them to the bathroom and
pantomimed what he’d seen and done, ending up with the description of hurling
the silver bracelet and banishing the monstrous attacker. Both priests were fascinated at the
description of “Pistolero” and how his psyche appeared to have influenced his
appearance, even to the extent of chatting quietly between themselves.
‘There aren’t any spirits around
at present, are there?’ asked Father Escobal.
His face had a hopeful look to it.
Sadly no, Father. As Luma pointed out, the spirits don't dance when he snaps his fingers.
Finally -
Back to Mister Telenko The Truck <thinks> Tactician. He had more revelations about Ruffian trucks, going on to explain that the general in charge of tyre procurement for the Ruffian army would choose to buy 40,000 miles tyres, instead of 100,000 mile tyres, and then pocket the difference, and that this kind of corruption continues all the way down the chain*. Art!
Here you see a £20 million mobile anti-aircraft system, abandoned because it got bogged down and the tyres went. I believe the Ukes now have three of these systems, very generously donated by the Ruffians.
He also pointed out two South Canadian vehicles damaged by roadside IEDs, which had been sent back home to be rebuilt. Art!
This was possible because South Canadian trucks have a massive steel bed, visible above, meaning that they stay in one piece when in the vicinity of an explosion. Ruffian trucks use wood instead, because it's cheaper, so when they get hit by an explosion, not only do they fly apart, they pepper everyone nearby with lethal wooden spall. Art!
See Kiev and immolate
Once again we would like to congratulate Jonesy, the strategic genius who drew up the Ruffian invasion 'Special' Military Operation plans. Go Jonesy!
And with that, Vulnavia, we are ever so done.
* Which doesn't seem very long. The Ruffian army had generals, and a few colonels to strut around looking fancy, and then the grunts.
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