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Max's Italian CTV
Vs
Kev's XI International Brigade
play a few games using the IABSM Supplement "Up Your Cara al Sol", which I helped write.
This is available from Too Fat Lardies, though appeared originally as a feature in the 2004 TFL
Summer Special.
Max had been aggressively posturing, as usual, for weeks with his Italians, so we decided to
give them an outing.
I decided to base a game loosely during the Nationalist offensive of March 1937 in the
Guadalajara, north-east of Madrid.
The Nationalists largely consisted of the Italian Corpo di Truppe Volontarie, 35,000 men drawn
from four Divisions. Three were 'Blackshirt' Divisions composed of Fascist Militia; 'Dio lo
vuole', 'Fiamme Nere' and 'Penne Nere', the fourth the Regular 'Littorio' Division composed of
conscripts. The Italians were heavily motorised with trucks, motorcycles, tankettes and
armoured cars.
The objective was to cut off Madrid from the north-east. After initial Nationalist successes the
Republican defence stiffened as the weather worsened and a counter-offensive pushed back
the fascists. The Italian forces suffered greatly in the latter stages from Republican aircraft
and abandoned much material as they retreated in disorder and resulting in Nationalist troops
offering 'Cuando te vas' - 'When are you going?' as an alternative meaning to CTV.
Max's Italian forces were tasked with advancing from the north-west corner of the table and
exiting the south-west corner.
The table featured a centrally placed village set in rolling terrain, providing plenty of cover. A
small fordable river ran roughly across the northwestern corner, with a bridge at the village.
I decided to make the terrain very muddy and deemed that if a six was thrown for movement
off road then the vehicle bogged down, requiring a further six to extract itself.
My Republican forces were largely International Brigaders, from the XI International Brigade,
with three T-26B Soviet supplied tanks in support, though with an initial Militia blocking force
holding the village. The majority of my forces were not to enter the table for four moves,
providing Max ample time to advance. My objective was to exit the northwestern corner of the
table.
"Now is the moment of decision!", so cried Captain
Almondo Marzipani to the tired members of the 15th
Blackhirts Battalion. "We have chased the leftists from
one crumbling town to another in our drive up this valley
and our drive through to Guadalajara will be complete
when we sweep through this village". Surveying the
scene from atop the tall Lancia armoured car, snow still
on the ground, he could see the road snake across the
sodden valley. A small stream cut his line of advance but
his scouts reported that apart from mud there were few
obstacles.
Marzipani decided to position his support platoons on a
rocky rise to his left, overlooking the stream and village.
They would cover his advance. His motorised legion
would advance in armoured lories supported by the
venerable Lancias shipped over from police duties in
Libya. Their crews, led by Sergeant Chierri Tarte, a
veteran of the Great War, had warned him that the roads
were ok but movement off them was poor. Behind them
he would move his two mobile guns.
Tenente Crispi Crema, an attractive but unfulfilling
specimine, was the chosen appointee of the Blackshirts.
He was tasked with driving behind the hill to the left of the
town, securing the other rise. His reserve platoon would
move to support the mobile elements once they had
scouted the town. With mud holding up forward
movement no other artillary had made it through the hills
but the enemy was no better off. Sadly outside of some
scouting, the aeronautica was nowhere to be seen.
Bravely (!) he would lead the move by taking the scout
platoon in the armoured lorries into the town.
Moving on blinds the mortar section moved into cover on
the hill. the weather was poor and this let them litle to see.
They called to the motorised column who moved down
the road. The infantry, also on blinds moved to the left of
the hill whilst two blinds followed the road towards the
right.
The town looked empty. Crema gunned his engine and
lurched towards the bridge. Too close it seemed as the
nearest building burst into life. Stabs of flame from the
walls and windows splattered around his crews. A
rearguard of militia were holding the bridge. Marzipani's
MG's unmasked and began to pour fire into the outer
works. The mortar crew, showing their only accurate
shooting of the day, ringed the position with smoke.
seeing his moment Crema burst from the truck and his
platoon overtook the defenders in a brief and bloody
clash.
Close fighting ensued but the poor training of both sides
showed as few casualties were caused. To the Red's rear
movement could be seen. Marzipani needed to move hs
men on. From right to left: an infantry platoon marched to
the right of the town, at the bridge Tarte's armoured cars
moved into the village to support Crispi's assault and on
the far left, still on blinds, the second platoon and HQ
moved up to the stream to the right hill.
A crack and a puff of smoke to the rear left of the reds
position unmasked a pair of 75mms! One, Two, Three
hits on Tartes Lancia. Chianti, bedding and liberated
goods scattered across the bridge but Italian
manufacturers had built this vehicle to survive a Roman
roundabout.
Tarte hadn't survived the Great War by being foolishly
brave though. Kicking his driver they reversed around
the oustkirts of the village...and straight into a sopping
great pile of donkey poo, right up to their axles! His
second car more cautiously kept in the lee of the
buildings and rained fire from its three MGs into the militia.
The left hand platoon found the going tough as they
edged around the village, struggling in boggy ground.
Infront of them the enemy arrived.
Frantically trying to see through the rain they emerged as
troops, in platoon strength at the left of the hill and
moving to the centre of the town. Infront of them
dragging their muddy cargoes were machine gunners,
pushed on by a gesticulating man, clearly in charge.
Advancing past the guns to the right, another platoon
aimed to take the small rise to the left of the town and
dominate the bridge.
The militia were eventually blown out of their positions by
the combined MG and artillary fire. Crema moved his men
into buildings at the far end onf the village supported by
elements of the first platoon and sniped at the advancing
troops. Worried by the guns, tartes second car tried to
wheel around the town and also stuck in Pedros Poo
Pile!
Behind them on the road a traffic jam was building as a
light tankette platoon raced to support. Driving around
the guns one stuck in a ditch and the gun commander
offered to move off the road and try to silence his
opposition.
The voices in the advancing troops weren't Spanish,
thought Crema, in fact they sounded like the advisors
from the Condor Legion..."Mamma Mia, the
Internationales!".
They were working around the left flank and moving
quicker than the bog-bound platoon. The MGs set up and
began to rake the flank of the village. In the centre a stand
off but to the right elements had reached the hill and
stood poided to assualt the as yet weak defences to the
right of the town. With the two armoured cars still
bogged down they were not ready.
At this stage luck played in the Italians favour. A section
of Blackshirts found a dry path and blundered into the
Reds and their Sargento Leon Onmeyar. Shocked by
their appearance and contary to any sense, the
Blackshirts routed them cheering as they cantered
across the fields back to a small stone wall. More joy was
caused as Tarte forced his car out of the poo and soon
followed by his partner re-entered the village.
Both sides now jockeyed for a hold in the town. The 75's
smashed into Crema's position in the church whilst the
troops on the let hand hill shaped up to assualt the
outskirts, pinning the first platoon. A lucky shot pinned
the Internationals MGs killing their leader and grounding
them. The Red Teniente ran hither and thither with his
flag rounding up troops but doing little more than adding
reasons for his commisar to "speak with him later".
Just then Onmeyar took matters into his own hands.
rushing around the rear of his troops he formed an
assualt squad and burst into the central block. A hard
fight ensued but the Blackshirts were routed. As artillary
fire rained down he took another and then another block.
Taking advantage of the escape of the blackshirts from
the teetering rubble of the central buildings, his men
rushed forward. Unable to accurately pin their opposite
numbers, the Blackshirts were hard put to defend
themselves.
Marzipani moved support into the rear of the town only to
see the resurgent reds race down the hill into the marsh,
into the fire of his MG's, "these men are fools" he shouted
but fools though they might be they had gained ground
and pinned his troops into the village. Marzipani himself
was taken in the next assault with eight of his men.
Behind him the armoured trucks and armoured cars
roamed the market square their MGs killing blithely.
Driven by Onmeyar though the reds wouldn't stop and a
vicious close range assault cleared out Crema's position
the boys good looks obliterated by a rifle butt! His men
were escorted dejectedly to the rear.
The road finally cleared the tankettes drove in to secure
the town. Heavy casualties left them isolated but few anti
tank weapons ensured that their danger would be
unextinguished for the time being.
The central platoon made a last drive into the town.
Clearing the remnants of the HQ and 1st platoon, who lay
under the bridge in sodden disarray, heavy fire from
thenaval guns crashed intoi the buildings
Kapitan Wallystien urged his crews of his guns to heroics
as they pushed through the glutinous mud to flank the
vehicles in the village. To the right, as fighting raged in
the town, the main platoon were joined by the
eponymous Onmeyar, having struggled from the ruins of
a building, to join the assualt on the hill. Three desperate
charges into the face of MG fire finally broke the will of the
blackshirts, a hand to hand battle now raged for many
minutes between the support platoon and the attackers.
Desperate to avenge itself the Blackshirts charged on.
Two takettes struck for the guns. One was hit just over
the bridge, the other led by Sgt Choco got to the gunline
before bogging and being holed at poiint blank range.
The guns hit an armoured lorry and sniped at the Lancias
who were still roaring defiance at the remnants of the
attackers platoons.
A close range attack forced Tarte out of cover into their
fire. Three shots smashed the car damaging key elemets
and forcing him to abandon it, he was last seen creeping
to the remaining car.
From behind the hill the leftist masterstroke was
unleashed. Three T26's rolled out to support the attack
on the hill.
The rough ground hampered them and as they moved
into range, the naval guns burst forth. A bitter struggle
ensued but the tanks were battered by successive hits,
two being abandoned.
With two sections remaining on the second platoon, the
last cohesive counter attack force left, the Blackshirts
aimed to recapture the central church and to control the
town. Held only by six men it seemed a straightforward
task.
Cursed by a lack of moral fibre all day and with no big
men, the attack was ingnominious, a dozen prisoners
emerged to wander to the rear.
Wallystien wouldn't ease up. Despite the support of a
tankette (itself captured after being knocked out by a
follow up section) the support platoon was broken.
Chasing onto the guns one drove off the other, its crew
scattered, was abandoned.
The day ended with small elements of blackshirts and an
armoured car still held up in the village, doomed to
surrender, nearly thirty prisoners already held and
bagged and damaged vehicles scattered around the field.
For the left, casualties of this kind could not be sustained.
Less than a third of effectives remained.
