A clear six months after our last (unreported) engagement, Stiggers and I convened for a rumble. As per usual, at the close of play, there were murmurings along the lines of ‘do this more often’, ‘we must’ and ‘that was fun’. We’ll see.
Stiggers, ever a fan of American football, Trump and Mom’s apple pie played the US of A’s 2nd Rifle Company from The Battle of the Bulge and I, ever keen to play new uber weapons, although not fully fettled (kinda apt) fielded a little something from the 510th Heavy Panzer Battalion.
As ever, this recollection of events might be a little off.
So, after the usual email to and fro about points, book choices, dates and dietary requirements, Stiggers and I lined up for another game, chez him.
His gaff, his points call. Nine hundred and fifty. Although, I misunderstood the texted word and thought it was a flat nine hundred. Whatever, I was happy with my shout and quickly added a few points-worth of schurzen to my IIIs to bring me a little closer. Read on….
Stiggers and I struggle to juggle family and Flames but got together in the recent half-term for a game in his kitchen.
He left the points call to me and then, predictably, bitched about my decision – 1200 pts. Apparently, this restricted his artillery choices. Who knew? Read on….