I switched the forum color to the white background and it's a LOT easier to look at. Dialog colors still make it easier to read and I support their continued use.
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What an interesting group of characters gathered there... Most interesting even. We shall see what happens in the Russian snow. I must agree that the coloured text is almost illegible. Not the best change to the forum I am afraid.
A good update, but one whose impact was sadly distracted by the text color issue.
I am using that, and I could barely make out the text.
I am using that, and I could barely make out the text.
Been somewhat busy of late but I've just caught up. The meeting with the mysterious Germans went very well all things considered, thankfully everyone was professional about it. That said as it's elites from both sides you kind of expect that, you don't get to be that good without being a professional.
As has been mentioned the big question is how many toys did the Germans bring with them and what condition are they in? Smashing a hole out to escape is tempting, but how far off is the British relief force? If it's close enough then digging in may be the best option to make sure the earlier sacrifices weren't in vain.
As has been mentioned the big question is how many toys did the Germans bring with them and what condition are they in? Smashing a hole out to escape is tempting, but how far off is the British relief force? If it's close enough then digging in may be the best option to make sure the earlier sacrifices weren't in vain.
Okay, I'm shooting for the next update to be posted later today or tomorrow. I will not be using any colors so hopefully the dialogue won't be to hard to follow (I've found that I used the idea of color text as a bit of a crutch so this next update will be telling, eh??).
Stay tuned!
Stay tuned!
You guys are giving up way to quickly. Colors themselves aren't the problem, the same colors that worked on the old background are. Cyan and orange work fine on the new background. Dark Green and Purple are awful. So here are all the colors in order. 1 Black 2 Sienna Dark Olive Green 4 Dark Green 5 Dark Slate Blue 6 Navy 7 Indigo 8 Dark Slate Grey 9 Dark Red 10 Dark Orange 11 Olive 12 Green 13 Teal 14 Blue 15 Slate Grey 16 Dim Gray 17 Red 18 Sandy Brown 19 Yellow Green 20 Sea Green 21 Medium Turquise 22 Royal Blue 23 Purple 24 Gray 25 Magenta 26 Orange 27 Yellow 28 Lime 29 Cyan 30 Deep Sky Blue 31 Dark Orchid 32 Silver 33 Pink34 Wheat 35 Lemon Chiffon 36 Pale Green 37 Pale Turquoise 38 Light Blue 39 Plum 40 White
I have to agree with Porkman. The colours are fine - even beneficial. The problem with them is when they clash with the background and make you have to squint. Of the 40 colours listed above, at least half would be fine. In fact, pretty much every colour after red (17) works fine for me, except 23 and 31, plus maybe 22/25.
That does depend on which style you are using, colours that are fine in vb4 are illegible in DeepOcean
Touche. Since I don't tend to mess with board settings, I was unaware of this. Point retracted.
I switched my board settings to vb4 and had a look. Falastur is right about 17 and up being good for DeepOcean. In Vb4, the good colors are 32 and down. ( though 36-39 are ok) What that means is that, 10, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 24, 26, 28, 29, 30, 32 are fine in both systems. That's 12 colors that work no matter what crazy setting the user has.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETEEN – Part Two
The Dying Warrior
The Dying Warrior
A wounded chieftain, lying
By the Danube’s leafy side,
Thus faintly said, in dying,
“Oh! Bear, thou foaming tide,
This gift to my lady-bride.”
‘Twas then, in life’s last quiver,
He flung the scarf he wore
Into the foaming river,
Which, ah too quickly, bore
That pledge of one no more!
With fond impatience burning,
The Chieftain’s lady stood,
To watch her love returning
In triumph down the flood,
From that day’s field of blood.
But, field, alas, ill-fated!
The lady saw, instead
Of the bark whose speed she waited,
Her hero’s scarf, all red
With the drops his heart had shed.
On shriek – and all was over –
Her life-pulse ceased to beat;
That gloomy waves now cover
That bridal flower so sweet,
And the scarf is her winding-sheet!
By the Danube’s leafy side,
Thus faintly said, in dying,
“Oh! Bear, thou foaming tide,
This gift to my lady-bride.”
‘Twas then, in life’s last quiver,
He flung the scarf he wore
Into the foaming river,
Which, ah too quickly, bore
That pledge of one no more!
With fond impatience burning,
The Chieftain’s lady stood,
To watch her love returning
In triumph down the flood,
From that day’s field of blood.
But, field, alas, ill-fated!
The lady saw, instead
Of the bark whose speed she waited,
Her hero’s scarf, all red
With the drops his heart had shed.
On shriek – and all was over –
Her life-pulse ceased to beat;
That gloomy waves now cover
That bridal flower so sweet,
And the scarf is her winding-sheet!
- Moore
November 24, 1941
Naro-Fominsk, Russia
6:30 a.m. Local Time
The question posed was, when boiled down to the most common denominator, a very simple question. However, he to whom the question had been asked as well as he who asked it the answer was most difficult to reach.
“No matter what, I can assure you that the Bolsheviks will pay dearly for any attack they make upon Naro-Fominsk,” answered the soldier to whom the question had been directed. A middle aged officer with piercing eyes and a very aristocratic bearing, he was Hyazinth Graf Strachwitz von Groß-Zauche und Camminetz, known as der Panzergraf or Armoured Count, and commanding officer of Panzerregiment Großdeutschland of the Panzergrenadier Division Großdeutschland.
The man who had posed the question, Colonel Howard “Sandy” Kippenberger, commanding officer of the King’s Airborne Rifles Regiment’s 3rd Battalion, grimaced at a surge of pain that shot through his shattered arm. “Of that I have no doubt, my lord. However, as reassured as I am that we will not go gently into that good night, I would prefer to hold off on taking that step for some years yet.”
“As would I, Herr Oberst,” Strachwitz answered with a grim nod. “However, I will make an assumption that the Bolsheviks will take no more kindly to the arrival of my men than they did to the arrival of your troops.”
A sudden whistling outside froze the seven men for an instant, their ears each cocked in the direction of the noise as experience taught them across countless battlefields. The sudden crashing boom that followed the whistle brought a grimace from six of the men and wry grin from the seventh. Stepping over and assisting Gough to his feet Drake grunted, “Gentlemen, as Ivan is on his normal time schedule, we can expect this shelling to occur haphazardly for the next ten minutes. I suggest we retire downstairs for the time being.”
Gesturing not only at nearly the same time but also in almost the exact same manner, Kippenberger and Strachwitz both motioned at Drake. If it had not been for the haste that that was required to exit the room, he would have had to have stopped and commented on the action of the two officers. Instead he chuckled to himself and promised he would make sure he mentioned it at a more appropriate opportunity. Pushing the thought away and concentrating on helping his colleague hobble down the stairs, Drake was proud to see the Paras on the main floor move with calm haste, moving the worst of the wounded first to the shelters that had been created. In short order the majority of the open areas were cleared of men and the seven officers found themselves in what was once a large storage closet but had been transformed into the semblance of a operations center.
“How long will this barrage last, Malcolm, ten minutes you said,” Kippenberger asked as he lowered himself into one of the two chairs that had been wedged into the room.
“If this is not the prelude to an attack,” Drake said as he glanced as his watch, “then yes, this should be over in about ten minutes, albeit with the rounds coming in at a random time frame. I think Ivan is attempting to be disconcerting or trying to catch the unwary without cover, but he’s become somewhat predictable so it has turned into a dangerous amusement to my lads.”
“And if it is a prelude to an attack, Oberst,” the elder of the two younger German panzer officers asked with a slight cocking of his head.
“If that is the case, Obersturmbannführer Meyer,” Drake replied with a grim growl, “then the barrage will be very intense and last for five minutes. Then we’ll hear a great deal of howling as the hordes of the Red Army race toward our positions.”
Casting an assessing eye upon the Para officer, Meyer commented, “I take it that the Bolshies have created a pattern of their activities?”
“Quite a predictable one, thankfully,” Drake snorted with dark humor. “But one that I would just as soon not to partake of any more, thank you very much.”
“Just what is the bloody situation,” Colonel John Frost asked as he spread a map of the local terrain across the small table dominating the room, “so that we can see what we can do to make that a reality.”
Looking at the map, which members of Drake’s operations staff had filled in with observable data of Soviet positions, the seven men all were struck by how grim a picture the map presented. To the north and northwest of the town the Red Army were emplaced in strong trenches, such as the one that Drake had assaulted the night before. The northeast and east were rapidly filling with troops and another series of corresponding defensive positions. The only areas that were not menacing shaded with red grease pencil marks were to the south, specifically due south and southwest.
“Just before being they were overrun by the Reds, I was able to get a status report from Regimental HQ,” Kippenberger grunted after allowing a handful of moments to elapse. “If things are bad in our neck of the woods, they are infinitely better than the hand that had been dealt to the other Regiments.”
Pointing to a map of the Moscow surroundings that had been pinned to the wall, he explained in a somber tone of voice that was clearly dismayed. “General Browning and the Royal Paras were dropped right in the bloody middle of Moscow. Army HQ had attempted to establish a strong point near the Tsaritsino Park but contact was lost shortly thereafter. The Royal Scots Paras augured in all the way out near Kurovskoye. The regimental staff never reported in but 3rd Battalion made brief contact with Army HQ to report that they were heavily engaged and then they went silent.”
“What of the Highland Paras,” Gough muttered as he gazed at the map but saw the bloody engagements that marked the death of the Royal Airborne Army.
Turning to look back to the other men in the room, Kippenberger shook his head in a slow sad sweep. “At least a portion of one battalion landed near Odintsovo and was able to report that they also were heavily engaged. No other word was ever heard from our Highlanders.”
Shaking his head again, the New Zealander sighed heavily. “Time to face facts, gentlemen. When it comes to organized resistance, we are all that there is… and we are not in all that good of a position as you are all well aware.”
“So what do we do now,” Frost asked solemnly. “With two reinforced battalions, not taking into account our German friends here, there is not a sliver of a chance of our achieving any of our objectives.”
“Obviously, Johnnie,” Gough growled. “And just as obvious is the fact that we will be extremely hard pressed to hold out until help arrives.”
“The question posed is simple,” Kippenberger grunted after allowing a handful of moments to elapse. “Can we hold out until relieved from the West?”
“What about the Scandinavians in the north, Sandy,” Drake asked with a sharp look.
“Just before being overrun by the Reds, Regimental HQ received word from Lord Gort’s HQ that their attack had stalled due to receiving the worst part of the storm that followed us in. In a word, they’re ass deep in snow and not moving fast.”
“And our ground pounders to the West,” Frost asked with an arched eyebrow that begged for hope.
“Not a bloody clue,” Kippenberger grimaced.
“The Ten Thousand.”
“What was that, Malcolm,” Kippenberger asked, shocked at the thought of Drake losing his grip on reality.
“I was recalling the exploits of Xenophon,” Drake muttered as he stared at the map tacked to the wall, specifically the position of Naro-Fominsk in relation to the last known positions of the Imperial armies marching from the west.
At that pause that followed that comment Wünsche, to the surprise of his fellow Germans and the British officers, stepped in and offered, “Xenophon… you know, the ancient Greek? Xenophon of Athens? I might not have had a full classical education bit I did receive enough of the important highlights to know of he and the Ten Thousand.”
Looking somewhat scornfully at the looks of the British officer, Wünsche then cast an inquisitive look upon Drake and gave voice to the expression upon his face. “You think, Herr Oberst, that a recreation of the Ten Thousand’s march is possible?”
“Wait! Can we obtain some clarification to what you two are talking about,” demanded Frost, a frown of concentration etched upon his brow.
“In 401 B.C., Johnnie,” Drake said somewhat absently as he continued to study that map, “the Ten Thousand, a Greek mercenary army working for Cyrus the Younger, were cut off from friendly lines following Cyrus losing the Battle of Cunaxa. Rather than surrender and face certain execution the Greeks, with Xenophon as one of their generals, marched their way away from Babylon up to the Black Sea and thus to safety.”
“You are suggesting marching over one hundred miles through enemy territory, heavily outnumbered, low on supplies, and burdened with taking our wounded with us?”
“Yes, Johnnie,” Drake said simply, “yes I am.”
“What,” exploded Meyer from where he stood against the wall of the small room. “We fight our way into this frozen piece of hell and now you want to us to turn around and fight our way back out?”
Jerking his hands into the air, Drake growled back sharply, “The only alternative, namely staying here in Naro-Fominsk, is not really a viable alternative, Meyer… unless you don’t mind bloody well being buried here in Russia! Because I tell you the truth that is bloody well what will happen if we do stay here in what is left of this town!”
As Drake crossed his arms across his chest, Meyer’s retort was still born as he felt Strachwitz place a heavy hand upon his shoulder. With the two Germans looking at the map upon the wall, Frost pointedly looked at Kippenberger. Far from being a defeatist or lacking battlefield courage, Frost, who clearly was unsure of the feasibility of Drake’s idea, sought guidance from the New Zealander. “You’re senior, Sandy. What do you think?”
“Hell, Johnnie,” he grimaced as he slowly adjusted his heavily bandaged arm. “Of a command blessed with officers with a firm understanding of tactics, you and I both know that that Malcolm has the gift for tactics with the Para community. However, it is a moot point until we have a better idea of what our allies here can bring to the equation.”
Finishing his response by directing his attention to the three Germans, Kippenberger left the question floating in the air. The pregnant pause that followed was punctuated by the crashing crump of an artillery shell land closely nearby. Ignoring the dust that rained faintly down upon his shoulders, Strachwitz stroked his chin thoughtfully while he flicked his gaze between the map atop the table and the one that had captured Drake’s attention. Cocking his head to the side as he studied Drake briefly, the German aristocrat nodded his had slowly and then simply commanded, “Wünsche.”
“Jawohl, mein Herr,” the youngest of the three Germans answered as his body began to stiffen to attention. Catching himself almost quickly enough for the motion to go unnoticed, he simply straightened his shoulders and while looking directly at Drake he informed the British officers with a grim grin, “The Großdeutschland Division has been mauled, gentleman, however, we have been able to consolidate the remnants of the Division into two brigades, each the equivalent of one of your battalions and both at operational strength. One is der Panzergraf’s own Panzerregiment Großdeutschland, the other is the Divisions’ Panzer-Grenadier Regiment. We have, currently, enough fuel to make a two hundred mile combat march and/or enough ammunition to engage in twelve hours of continuous heavy combat.”
With plans and marching routes racing through his mind, Drake asked, “And I can conclude that the Großdeutschland has sufficient motor transport to move those supplies along with you on that march?”
Stepping next to Drake and studying the map again, Strachwitz answered with a glint in his eyes that mirrored his new colleague’s. “You are correct, Oberst.”
“Do you think that what Colonel Drake is proposing is possible, Graf,” Frost asked as he found himself warming to the idea.
“One can achieve great successes with only a few men,” the German replied almost haughtily, with a wolfish grin slowly forming across his face, “if they are good, Oberst Frost. Between your men and mine, not only do we have good men, we have more than a few. Oberst Drake’s idea is certainly audacious. However… audacity and courage working hand in hand, in my experience, can overcome nearly any obstacle put up by the Bolsheviks.”
**
Hopefully the bold face instead of colors is better (or at least easier upon the eyes) for everyone. Let me know, eh?
Up Next:
The fine details... and can it actually work?
Two things:
- The new arrangement works fine for me.
And
- Let's hope that the Ten Thousands doesn't turno into the Three Hundred.
- The new arrangement works fine for me.
And
- Let's hope that the Ten Thousands doesn't turno into the Three Hundred.
Bold works better than poor color selection/compatibility. I prefer good colors over bad though. I'm a whiner.
Recommended for Draco Rexus
http://www.amazon.com/Ten-Thousand-Harold-Coyle/dp/0671885650
It's a modern rather than WW2 setting but a damed fine read (after you suspend your geopolitical disbelief of the scenario)
trekaddict - Aye, I well and truly screwed the pooch on that one... gamewise that is. 
Kurt_Steiner - Glad the new system works... and I agree that we don't witness another 300 last stand.
Nathan Madien - :rofl:
Dinglehoff - I like the colors, too. But I'd rather all my readAARs be able to read this without hurtin' their eyes. I'm just nice that way.
Derek Pullem - I love Harold Coyle's books! That was a very good read (it helps that Coyle is a former tanker in the U.S. Army). Did you ever read Team Yankee?
Kurt_Steiner - Glad the new system works... and I agree that we don't witness another 300 last stand.
Nathan Madien - :rofl:
Dinglehoff - I like the colors, too. But I'd rather all my readAARs be able to read this without hurtin' their eyes. I'm just nice that way.
Derek Pullem - I love Harold Coyle's books! That was a very good read (it helps that Coyle is a former tanker in the U.S. Army). Did you ever read Team Yankee?
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