Dr.Fusselpulli

Don't worry about it too much, guys...Well get something from @BFCElvis by end of January next week. 

Yeah, I hope we'll see some module for CMCW soon.

It's a really fantastic game, but so are all the modern series. I think CMSF2 is a bit of an unexpected surprise for me. I think it's one of the most challenging and diverse CM games. Red vs. red battles are very fun in that game. I can't wait for more CMCW though.

I played the Stem The Tide Scenario against Gavin.  We played double-blind and both did Video AARs

I do love getting to watch a game recap from the opposite point of view.

You can see it all here.

Gavins AAR

Chaps AAR

CMCW Module Engine 5.0

I'm waiting for CMCW module (German forces 🙏) more than anything. A new CMBS module would also be nice.

I recently purchased this game and am thoroughly enjoying it.  It's something new and exciting to me.  I've only played WWII games prior for the past umpteen years, well along with War of Warcraft.  I am pretty sure this will result in me putting all my WWII games on the back burner if ever to return.  The new TO&E, advancements in and of equipment and tactics is just overwhelming and so interesting and to be honest quite exciting. On a sad note however, it seems now that I have the modern wargame bug, I will be buying CMBS as soon as the next patch comes out just to see what all is new in it since the jump from WWII to the Cold War was so great, I can't imagine the jump to the present-day improvements.  
 

Thank you good sir!

Hey folks!
This is my second video AAR and I decided to use a bit of a different style with this one.  Let me know what you all think!  It's by no means perfect but I poured a lot of effort into this one.  Special thanks to @domfluff and the CM discord community for helping me through the editing and creation process!
 

Ideas are cheap, my friend. It takes gifted people like you to make them reality.

My program does nothing fancy it only automates clicking. I did a bit of testing and I've come to the conclusion that this is just how the editor works and it seems it isn't really made for contour lines as input.
Just do the following experiment. Draw vertical elevation lines in the editor like illustrated below. You will always have something like an s-curve (some spline I guess) between two parallel lines. If you have three parallel lines you will just have two s-curves and you will always have a plateau in between. If you space out both lines enough the plateau will be less pronounced but it will still be there.

This will look good if you just have one contour line at the bottom of a hill and one at the top. The way the manual describes it, this may be the intended use. But it does not work for (realistic) contour lines.
I only tested it in CMCW. I don't think the different flavours have different behaviours, or do they?

Creative use of a bridge? What ya think?
 

Not dead, just busy. Sorry all. Had some trouble storyboarding this one too. Let's continue.
____
Rally Point Zulu, 1600 hours, July 16th. Southwest of Schlüchtern.
CPT Sharp watched the vehicles enter the clearing in the woods. They came in at first in drips and drabs, waved in by MPs to camouflaged positions beneath the trees. He had already been at the rally point for about an hour, the result of hurried orders the night before to take his Company across the divisional boundary line. His triangular “SPEARHEAD” insignia made it obvious he was not where he normally should be, to be sure, but it was the presence of 11 squat, evil-looking tanks with their angular cheek plates that truly made his command stand out. For the tired GIs rolling in, it was the first sign that something was up. The next indication that the game was afoot was the image of the COL, their Brigade commander, standing on the engine deck of one of the tanks. Fists balled on his hips, he stood like a statute as his battalion coiled into the perimeter, eyes following one vehicle at a time. 

Sharp had initially thought the unit had been truly roughly handled, given how the initial men coming in had looked extremely disorganised and spread out. By 1630 however, entire platoons, and then companies, were rolling into the rally point. He made a quick count of the companies. The Alpha and Bravo callsigns looked to be down about a platoon of vehicles but clearly remained combat effective. Charlie and Delta looked a bit worse for wear, with several of the platoons down to only two vehicles each, one M113 coming in with an entire squad riding on top of it, Soviet style. Overall, 2-8 INF looked to have weathered the first 48 hours of fighting phenomenally well. A CPT of similar shape and build to himself was moving between the companies, hurriedly organising cross-munitions loading and refuelling, sharing a quiet word with the company leaders. Sharp was watching the man intently when he sensed, more than saw, the COL approach him.
“There’s your man. CPT Booth. We’ll speak to him.” the COL spoke in practical monosyllables. His stern countenance and greying side-hair did nothing to mask the obvious fatigue and strain.
“Where’s the LT COL, sir?”
“There is none.” A tightening of the jaw. Clearly a sore subject.
“Further, you are to take a platoon equivalent of your tanks and have them liaise with the C Company commander. They are to escort the unit to The Citadel.”
Escort? The CPT was about to inquire but the COL, sensing the question, pre-empted him.
“Soviets scattered company sized air assault units to hell and back all over the MSR. Once your detached tanks have reached the Citadel, they are to refuel, and begin running ROADRUNNERs of Brigade trains forward. Now, come with me…”
What followed was the most “fragmentary” FRAGO Sharp had ever received. All semblance of good order and TOC-based SOP clearly thrown away by the expedients and urgency of the situation. The orders were entirely verbal, and CPT Booth received them almost without emotion, utterly passive. A few quiet questions from him, and in less than 3 minutes, the briefing was complete. It took another 5 minutes to organise a quick movement-to-contact, hashing out a map-based scheme with an overlay draped across the hood of a jeep. It was all so insanely hurried, that Sharp could feel a building pressure in his sinuses. It was insane, but it was nevertheless a scene being repeated all over the FRG, from the Baltic coast to the Alps.
Their orders were simple: NLT 1700 hours, 2-8 INF (-) to move towards Schlüchtern and ascertain the goals and strength of the Soviet second echelon. If possible, fix and destroy the lead elements, observe, report, retreat. Destroy key communications infrastructure.
A raid, a classic counterpunch. Unsurprisingly, Sharp’s unit would form the main punching power of the ad-hoc force, right in the centre of the line. CPT Booth organised his unit into three rough company teams. 

1LT Noonan would lead B Team essentially unchanged, but newly reinforced by two replacement M60A1s and crews. Their objective was to probe towards Elm, on the right flank, secure it and shoot up the lead elements of any force that approached it. CPT Sharp, with a platoon of infantry cross attached from A/2-8 INF would advance through the village of Drasenberg to secure the hamlet of Gromfritz. This would secure a massive central ridge that dominated Route 66. They were to form BPs and engage by fire any lead Soviet elements they encountered.  CPT Guidry would lead A team; his own company less a platoon of tanks and infantry, and establish an ambush at an underpass, securing the TF's right flank.  The scheme was, in all reality, a guessing game. Sharp also noticed with trepidation that it left a massive gap in a forest series of side roads that could squeeze an enemy unit between his team and Noonan’s. Booth was banking on the Soviets sticking to doctrine. It made him uneasy; he would absolutely try to squeeze part of his own unit through there. He knew, though, that Booth’s assumption of risk made absolute sense. The Soviets were fighting and thinking in SOPs and frontages, and nothing suggested that was going to change. The plan, of course, was set to parry what was the presumed Soviet objectives.

Successfully parrying their attempt to regain momentum after Neuhof could create opportunities for further exploit. Delay, delay, delay the COL had stressed in his brief talk. The Soviets couldn’t afford it. Their mission was to create one.
1700 Hours, July 16th. Route 66, Forward Edge of the Battle Area, near Elm.  
They were shortly to be in sight of their objectives, free from the claustrophobic environs of the tree-lined roads they were marching up in extended columns. The first sign that the enemy was near were the sign of Hinds, flitting just above the canopies in the distance. Whatever they were looking for, they were not particularly vigilant. Though .50 cals and Vulcans tracked the targets, they passed on without incident. 2-8 INF fanned out as they exited from the treelines, the individual companies heading for their targets.

Radio silence lifted, as planned, and Sharp ensured one of his radios was monitoring the Battalion net. He was immediately greeted by a clearly frustrated Noonan trying to prevent his company from fragmenting in the difficult terrain. The inexperienced company leader was clearly suffering from the pressure. Sharp just prayed he would settle down before any contact, which was so clearly imminent. He didn’t want his flank twisting in the wind.

More satisfactorily, at 1706 the reports came in from Guidry that his unit was at their destination and deploying in ambush. That’s one flank secured, at least. A small sense of relief. The slow winding-up of tension briefly paused. Sharp continued to scan from his cupola, straining every nerve as his unit wound its way up towards their first checkpoint. Adding to the pressure was the knowledge that the ersatz-CO was riding with him. The battalion net continued to squawk with terse reports and replies, 2LT Clausen, from Noonan’s team, was in position in the high ground to the left of Elm. The pieces were falling into place.

In his own sector, things were going equally well. They had passed through Drasenberg without incident, slowly leapfrogging in sections of tanks and APCs through it. They had won the race for the high ground.

Then, a burst of chatter:
“Bravo Two Tango reports contact with enemy BMP. Am engaging”
“Roger Bravo Two. Continue to report. Bravo Two push your tracks into Elm, hustle” came Booth’s response.
Contact! Sharp looked down at his wristwatch, a modern digital watch his old man had bought him a year before, its chunky plastic band being perfect for the hazardous interior of a M1 tank. It was 1708 hours.  He looked over, his right-flanking callsign oriented its turret ever so slightly more to the right, but otherwise, the fight was Noonan’s concern.


“One times BMP destroyed. Visual on platoon sized element of enemy tangoes. Continuing to engage” calm and collected, Bravo team’s tank platoon leader continued to narrate the battle. Sharp listened intently, as was everyone else on the net. 

By 1711 enough information had come in for Booth to issue orders. Largely superfluous as they were, they reconfirmed the initial scheme. B Team were to put up a shield at Elm, where they had clearly hit the enemy CRP, and therefore the likely main enemy axes of advance. Guidry was to stay firm with A team.

Sharp, for his part, had slowly been leapfrogging his company team; three Abrams moving near-silently along the reverse slope of the hill whilst the rest of the company waited just behind Drasenberg. His lead platoon leader, 1LT Rose, had already reported a good approach route. He quickly issued hurried orders via the company net; confident Booth’s command track would have the wherewithal to follow his lead. With a defensive fight developing in front of Elm, it was clear that his Company team was going to remain the main offensive element for the battle. 

The attack on Gomfritz was to be a straightforward matter of fire and movement. With a platoon grouping of Abrams in overwatch, an infantry platoon was to push through the forest to determine if the village was devoid of the enemy. The remaining four Abrams would push around the “blind corner” on signal of the infantry. It was a good plan for something come up on the spot. It never got put to the test. Just as the first group of Abrams nosed into their BP, the company team net exploded with simultaneous contact reports from the callsigns. 

Then came the reports that the enemy was burning. First it was one T-64, then another. Sharp moves himself and a wingman up, cognizant that the enemy would try to push through the fire if they could not identify the source of it.

 A handful of contacts quickly matures into an entire tank company. Sharp, peering “eyes down” out of his cupola spots a trio of BMP-2s flitting out of sight, working his flank. He knows the BP covering the right flank should be able to pick them up and doesn’t even bother handing off the contacts. “Gunner: Sabot, tank” he roars into the internal communications set, slewing the turret with override.
“Identified!” his gunner confirms. He lets go of the controls. A blinding flash from the muzzle. 

“Target!”
His gunner, dependably, starts identifying targets on his own and “fighting the turret”, leaving Sharp freedom to command his abbreviated group of Abrams. The T-64s, belatedly, begin to slew their turrets. They were aware. Sharp begins to micromanage the jockeying of his individual callsigns.
Even as Sharp is fighting the lead elements of the T-64s, the dismounted infantry had begun pushing through to Gomfritz. They hear the roar of enemy engines even over the sound of battle and duly report it to Booth, who passes it back down to Sharp. More enemy armour was clearly heading their way. It was time to press the attack.

Sure enough, another platoon of Soviet tanks appear and, skirting slightly to their left, continue to try and gun around Sharp’s flank. They dip out of sight, but not before another T-64 is turned into an inferno.

Sharp had no intention of letting any enemy armour through. Four Abrams push up, line abreast, and catch the remaining Soviet tanks in the flank at alarmingly close range. 


Even as Sharp is savaging the enemy armour, 1LT Rose reports three BMPs destroyed. The enemy motor rifle platoon had carefully attempted to work its away through dead ground but, as it exited a draw on the far right flank, was quickly picked up by Rose’s tank section. They were all knocked out in a single volley, a frightening testament to the new tanks fire control system. 

Immediate exploitation was out of the question, however. Sharp and his three wingmen were looking over their handiwork, when he suddenly saw a green dot in the distance. It hung, lazily, in front of his eyes. He was confused for a moment too long – what was he looking at? Then, a wave of heat, a bright flash, and a mild-rash-like pain on his left cheek as he turned instinctually to avoid the projectile.
An ATGM. They had just been hit!
He was alive. Was the tank operable? He didn’t bother to check first, instead ducked inside the turret and fired off his defensive smoke mortars while roaring into the internal comms for his driver to reverse. The tank moved, evidently none the worse for wear. Even as Sharp moved to preserve his mount and its crew, a wingman identified the source of fire and knocked it out. A query came in from Rose; was all well? 

Sharp peered over the cupola. His face still stung, but it didn’t seem particularly bad. What the hell had happened? He soon had his answer: the .50 calibre was gone. Eviscerated by a direct hit. He decided not to question how the chemical jet from the missile did not kill him. It would be the closest call he would have in this terrible conflict, though of course he would not know it at that time.
What the close call did signal for the immediate time was a halt to Sharp’s advance. Until the infantry had secured Gomfritz and established an artillery observation post, he could not risk exposure to other ATGMs with his precious MBTs.      ***
Sharp’s focus is entirely on Gomfritz and the targets to his front. As his tanks’ cannons bark, the background noise of the Battalion net fades into the distance. He does not hear the rising crescendo of battle near Elm, illustrated by the increasing strain evident in the voices of B Team’s callsigns. Elm has become a raging inferno. The Soviets FSE have arrived and, turrets oriented towards the threat, try to pass through the survivors of their CPR. The Tank section appears to be excellently positioned, able to enfilade their targets sky lined on the hill. Another T-64 burns. All appears well.

Then from the dust and fury comes a booming report. A M60A1 burns, shuddering from the impact. No hatches open. Alarmed, the section leader (the Platoon NCO) jockeys out of position. The Soviets roar on, now no longer under fire from their flank. 

They remain under fire, however, from the front. ITOWs deployed in exposed hasty positions nevertheless possessed dominating fields of fire and make the most of it. Burning enemy bonfires begin to build up on the high ground to the right flank of Elm.

Sensing danger, 1LT Menard roars out of his hide with his wingman tank under the cover of the ITOWs to try and blunt the Soviet advance at close range. Taking positions on the fly in his jolting cupola he directs his section to a low hedge separating cabbage fields; they do not have long to wait. T-64s come over the slope and are hit at “cannot miss” range. Menard’s knees sag slightly from this hair-raising encounter. If he had more time to ponder what he had just ordered and executed, he would’ve bailed out of his vehicle and never looked back. The line between courage under fire and irrationality was a fine one. 

Ensconced and hidden in a hedge near the ITOWs was B Team’s FIST. In alarm, he sees what appears to be the main body appear along the road running directly into Elm.


It is not long before 155mms are working overtime to pummel the approaches to Elm. The Soviets, as always, push through it with determination. The FIST can hear over the dull crumps the hiss-pop of the ITVs continuing to engage. Quite a number of the BMPs that push through the indirect fire are knocked out by this re-engagement.

The next set of BMPs try to follow in the footsteps of the CRP, perhaps believing the way remains open. By this point Menard’s PNCO has taken a new, hasty, battle position and is once again able to enfilade them. Another pair of BMPs is flamed between the tank fire and the ITVs. 

Noonan’s team is giving the Soviet tank battalion a destructive beating, but it’s not enough. The Soviets continue to push simultaneously towards the high ground to the northeast and down the centre road. B Team simply cannot keep up the rate of fire necessary to stop the Soviets cold. The ITVs are forced to pop defensive smoke as the BMP-2s begin to identify and fire back with their 30mms at their assailants.

With the high ground finally under Soviet control, things begin to unravel quickly. Menard’s PNCO and another member of his crew are wounded heavily when his vehicle is struck by return fire, even as they attempt to jockey out of position. 

Driven by outrage more than courage, Menard attempts to repeat his previous feet, waving SGT Marx forward with him into a counterattack. All goes well initially, with Menard’s gunner destroying a T-64 from the gallop. Marx then identifies a T-64 to the northwest, across the valley. Slewing the turret on override, he knocks it out as well. Even as Marx’s loader hefts another sabot into the breech, he could see for himself the turrets of several other T-64s slewing in his direction. 

“How did –“ he doesn’t have time to finish the thought before a Soviet round slams into the turret of his tank. The resulting pressure blows him out of the turret where he shortly regains consciousness. Marx’s legs are spattered with shrapnel and all he can focus on is crawling. One arm over another. He does not notice the rest of his crew following his lead, nor his new platoon leader and his crew also crawling, dragging a loader whose face was reduced to a bloody pulp, from their own tank. 

***   Noonan had heard enough. One by one his call signs had either dropped off the air suddenly or reported they were retreating. The pressure was on. It was going to have to come to close quarters. He grabbed his M16 and ordered the ramp down on his M113. He waved at his RTO to grab a few LAWs for good measure before they departed.   The Soviets were breaking in. 1st Platoon’s first squad had been wiped out, dying in place from a lethal combination of shrapnel, high explosives and machinegun fire which tore their fighting positions apart. The first Soviet BMPs had practically driven right up to the buildings and, when a LAW fired too hastily missed, had ripped into the buildings with everything they had.     2LT Leblanc had arrayed his squads in depth, mutually supporting one another. As quick as the 1st Squad’s end had come, revenge was not long in waiting. 2nd Squad opened fire with its Dragon and LAWs. Soviet riflemen came out of the lead BMP, even as it burned, the last four all human candles doing a grotesque dance. By the time the surviving Soviet infantry had organised themselves, their assailants had disappeared, falling back past the 3rd squad to a new position.      So it went. The Soviet infantry were simply nut numerous enough to effect more than a break in. It appeared to Leblanc and Noonan that the situation might have been finally stabilised when the unmistakeable squeal of tracks against pavement began to compete with the crescendo of battle. The Soviet armour was going right into Elm! Noonan knew he needed more bayonet strength if he was going to hold against rampaging armour.
“Bravo Two to Bravo Two-Two”
“Bravo Two-Two, send it.” 2LT Clausen’s voice responded immediately.
“Enemy MBTs have entered our BP. Punch out to your north and hit them in the flank.”
A pause, this time.
“Bravo Two-Two acknowledges. Out.”
Noonan knew it was a tall order. He was out of options that he could directly select. His next call was to Booth. There was a promise of an Abrams section – but would they arrive in time? 


Clausen had been posted in ambush covering the forested route that could see a Soviet unit deploy in the gap between Sharp and Noonan’s company team. They had passed the minutes in unease, listening to the sounds of battle travel up the ridge to their left, roaring in the valley to their right. Privates gripped their rifles tight and fidgeted with the undergrowth. The whispered orders to remount came as a relief; action meant agency. Soon the M113s were cautiously groping their way along a rail line, riflemen and Dragon gunners hanging out the cargo hatches, straining every nerve.
In Elm, things were falling apart. LeBlanc’s careful to-and-fro with the enemy could not keep up with the Soviets reckless urgency. The junior officer had just personally stalked and disabled a T-64 with part of his 3rd Squad, volleying LAWs into the vehicles side and rear, and spraying down nearby Soviet infantry, when he saw yet another tank roar through an allotment, crushing forgotten vegetables and crashing through a fence. They were being flanked. The M113 was just around the corner. There was time. They clambered aboard, and LeBlanc was roaring at the driver to advance when there was a bright red flash.     The T-64 had worked its way through several backyards and had barrelled out at an intersection just to the East. Locking a track the commander guided his gunner onto the M113. A terse “ogon!” followed. The 125mm crashed out.     LeBlanc was dead.
Now bereft of a leader, the remaining dozen men made a dash for Company HQ, where they hoped they could make a last stand under the remaining ITV’s field of fire. Even as they ran the Soviets, like sharks in bloody water, ran amok. All was chaos.     That chaos saved the remaining infantry of B Team, however. Amazingly, the Soviets seemed less concerned with finishing the job than they did trying to push right through Elm. It allowed the survivors to use every item in their arsenal they had left. One eagle-eyed SPC, seeing a Soviet tank with its cupola hatch open, manages to toss a fragmentation grenade in. He has little time to exult, his squad leader swiftly hustles him to the next scrap of cover.
Slowly, but surely, the survivors of 1st Platoon find their balance. Noonan and his HQ thicken the anti-tank fire with their LAWs. The Soviets push to the southern edge of Elm, but no further. Derelict T-64s meters away from the Company HQ demonstrate the high watermark.      The final remaining company of Soviet armour make the break for the eastern flank of the town, despite the congested terrain. The Battalion HQ follows with them. It is the definition of a forlorn hope. They meet fiery ends as they make their end run, when 1LT Rose and two other Abrams suddenly appear on their flank. The Soviets are savaged, but its not entirely one sided. The tank battalion’s attached ZSUs put up a fierce resistance, spraying the Abrams down with 23mm with such violence that it strips the turrets entirely. Fire control and thermal imagers are disabled and require resets. One of Rose’s NCO has to resort to boresighting, staring down the barrel. At such close range, they cannot possibly miss. It’s all over in minutes.        A few enemy tanks push past, roaring through the fiery gap. It is a paltry amount, and the shattered survivors are not able to effect any type of effective breakthrough. They are ultimately policed up by Cobras patrolling the immediate rear areas of the TF.
B Team has received a severe drubbing but has mauled the lead element of a Soviet tank regiment. The battle is over. The counteroffensive is not. 


 

Yup that is a good point. A shoot and scoot command would be great to remedy this, especially if it could be tied to the hull down command. 

I've been a busy bee recently. Someone has to fill the void! That, or I'm just talking to my own echo. Oh well. 
Anyways, this post is about hull down (a strangely controversial topic around these parts) and Berm Drills, an explanation as to what they are, their efficacy, and how to do them in CM. I used Cold War to make the examples in this post, so I figured I would post it here. That said, the lessons apply to every CM game.
The full post can be found here: https://millerswargamingvault.blogspot.com/2022/06/visualized-in-combat-mission-berm-drills.html
Here is a little vid I made to help entice: 
 

I'm working on a very huge map lately myself. I used photoshop to cut the map together, the editor version, as well as in 3D to get an idea on how it looks.
It's not perfect and requires some work (like almost everything regarding CM), but it's something that can be overcome.


There is a problem, that terrain gets not rendered anymore after a certain distance. If I'm at one end of my map, about the opposite third of it gets not rendered.
7280m x 2544m

Hello Dr.Fusselpulli: The screen grabs above are taken from the Editory.
How did I make the slopes?
For the non-cliff slope I increased 'every' square 3 metres vertical.
For the cliff slope I increased every square 5 metres vertical. This is the point at which the game automatically creates non-scalable cliffs.
For the steep cliff I increased every square 8 metres vertical and then added the linear features which transform cliff to non-cliff.
The very flat sides to the cliffs were created by pressing the CONTROL key at the same time as entering the height number along the edge of the cliff. In the Editor 2D view these numbers are highlighted in a blue outline. I learned this from another modder's example of how to create steep river banks when placing bridges.
Does that answer your question?
As for playability: I have made some very large 4 km x 4 km maps in the past (Les Haut Vents et Pont Hebert as well as Amfreville to la Fiere) which are covered in bocage and many features. They have all proven to be playable on my desktop and laptop but my computers are medium to high end (at least they were 5 - 8 years ago).

Continued...
Wren had been monitoring the fight, listening to Bunting control the point element. Things appeared to be going well, but he could tell the pressure was on. Each report from his senior platoon leader was rising an octave, a sign he knew well from countless exercises was a sign of stress. He urged the main body of his force on, because it was clear that contrary to fixing the enemy, Bunting appeared to be getting pinned himself. By 0908 hours, Wren and the balance of the company team arrived in the hasty fighting position. The cross-attached armour platoon under 1LT Harmon pushes forward, taking hull down positions all along the ridge.

The moment had come to take the fight forward. Wren required only a couple of minutes to appraise himself of the situation, his track nudging itself in next to Bunting’s. Whilst the company leader was briefed by his point platoon leader, the company mortars set up a hasty firing position. They were soon firing a repeat mission at the OPFOR dismounts, who were still working their way around the right flank of the Company’s position. 

The situation was still very confused, but Wren was able to come up with a straightforward scheme of maneuver based on what appeared apparent:   He knew there was remnants of a BMP platoon to the right flank, practically on PL Toto. 2nd Platoon would sweep and clear them off the heights with priority of company mortars. Tank platoon (-) to punch straight towards PL Yazoo. TOWs and the rest of the tank platoon to support by fire. Air power, if he could raise it again in time, would support. 1st Platoon to remount, rearm, and follow and support (2). 
It was a good plan, all things considered, but it was based on shaky info in a highly fluid situation. Wren was still giving his tasking orders when 1LT Harmon broke in with a contact report. A single T-72 had just been knocked out by his unit at close range, and there was an unspecified amount of BMPs making smoke and driving (once more) towards the high ground on the right flank.

FO teams that climbed the craggy cliffs on the left flank firmed up these reports in due course. The OPFOR appeared to be going all in on the Company’s right flank, and Wren duly modified Harmon’s mission to sweep to the northwest, rather than directly north, to account for this.

Wren keyed his microphone, and issued his FRAGO:
“All callsigns this is Bravo 26. Orders: Situation. One times Mike Romeo Charlie approaching north, vicinity phase line TOTO. Mission. Destroy. Groupings and tasks. Bravo 22, move northwest, orient north, assault one times Bravo Mike Papa platoon.  Bravo Tango, you are the main effort. Move towards phase line YAZOO, orient northwest. Provide one times support tango each to Bravo 24 and Bravo 22.  Bravo 21 and this call sign, to follow and support Bravo Tango. Bravo 24, continue with current task. Acknowledge and questions, over?”
A satisfying chorus rolled in over the company net from his platoon leaders, all repeating some variation of acknowledgement and indication of no questions.
Supporting by fire, the TOWs open the engagement, reaching out to touch the enemy as they began to expose themselves in their approach.


The OPFOR increasingly show signs of being disoriented, caught off guard. What had been a single-minded effort to seize key terrain was becoming a fight for survival. The worm was turning, with initiative firmly passing to Wren’s company team. Roaring forward in column behind a wedge of three M60s, Wren was greeted by the satisfying sight of his joint fires coming to bear. His hurried call for further gunship support had been answered, and he could see TOW and rocket fire creating havoc, black spires of smoke testament to their effect. Then, a few hundred meters to his front, he could see Harmon’s M60s fire a volley. The RTO’s radio crackles, and the young PFC awkwardly hands the receiver to him in the cramped cargo space:
“Bravo 26 this is Bravo Tango. Am engaging three times B-M-P, repeat I am engaging three times BMP, you may want to hold your callsign back sir, out.”

Somewhere off to their right, 2LT Renfro’s reinforced platoon was snaking forward in column, forming the right arm of a pincer. Renfro did his best to ensure his group kept, as far as the terrain allowed, the main effort in sight. He knew Wren intended this attack to be mutually supporting.
“Bravo Tango send to Bravo 26.”
“This is 26. Send.”
“Have engaged and destroyed three times BMP. Am resuming advance. Out”
The enemy’s second echelon had been caught in the open and devastated by the balance of the tank platoon. What the slow-moving sweep does not kill, the overwatching TOWs and trailing tank does. Caught off guard, the BMPs attempt to make smoke and reverse into some approximation of a hull down position. Their dismounts likewise attempt to find cover, but most are chopped up badly by the M113s. It is a testament to the professionalism of the OPFOR that, despite the unfolding disaster, they are still able to put down heavy, often accurate, return fire. One tank is penetrated and suffers crew casualties, and Harmon’s tank has its main gun damaged in the exchange. The BMPs die hard, but die they do.


Harmon’s Platoon NCO, who had been in the trail tank with the TOWs, now moves forward to take over for his leader, whose disabled tank falls back. With most of the BMPs destroyed, the fight returns to the infantry, and surviving OPFOR dismounts fight tenaciously from every scrap of cover and concealment the terrain can provide. Renfro’s unit mops up the shattered BMP platoon, .50 calibers thumping as the infantry bound forward.

One of 2nd Platoon’s Dragon teams identifies two BMPs in ambush near the main effort’s position, and duly report and engage them. The wisdom of ensuring the platoons remained in mutually supporting distance is made clear by this incident.

By 0918 hours, Wren’s command group and most of 1st Platoon had outflanked OPFOR dismounts by climbing Hill 165.5 and had begun to pour fire down their flank. Despite the dominating position, the American infantry take accurate, shockingly accurate, return fire. Three casualties are suffered in the exchange, but the result is preordained. Bunting, with the other half of the platoon, bounds forwards. With grenade and bayonet, the OPFOR dismounts are either killed, wounded, or captured. It is an ugly, intimate firefight – not what the casual observer would expect in desert terrain.

By 0926 hours, the fight is over. Individual survivors are picked off, caught in a crossfire between the vehicles of 1st and 2nd Platoon’s as they attempt to escape the close assault. Word filters down from brigade, to TOC, from TOC to Wren: ceasefire, assume a hasty defense and stand by for further orders.
 
***
The lead OPFOR battalion commander was perturbed. This was not the type of aggressive response he expected.  He was not an overly prideful man, he knew a battle lost when he saw one, but he was also not accustomed to defeat. Not on his home turf. He could turn the enemy’s success into defeat, the enemy Battalion was pushing through separate passes, outside of mutual support, and the company-sized force that had just savaged his combat reconnaissance patrol and forward security element was now out on a limb, outside of the mutual support of its sister companies.
He knew he needed to redouble his efforts and try to catch the enemy while they were either rearming or attempting to pursue his lead force. The surviving forward officer reported his men were going firm, as was expected of him, to try and fix the enemy for as long as possible.
“Adjutant, get me Regiment. Request release of the armour reserve.”
They would be ready by this afternoon. It should be soon enough.

Boeing Yard, Fort Irwin, California
CPT Wren could feel a very strong headache coming on. It wasn’t the unbearable, searingly-dry heat, (well, it was the heat in part) so much as it was the logistical nightmare his company, and his Battalion Taskforce writ-large, had been dumped into. They had just arrived at the Boeing yard, serving as an initial assembly and equipment collection point for their rotation at the National Training Centre. The officers and senior NCOs were in absolute, collective shock at what greeted them. They had left most of their equipment behind at Ft. Stewart, with the promise that they would be provided with well-maintained, pre-positioned gear on arrival at Ft. Irwin.
The sight of the Battalion XO standing amidst the metaphorical wreckage, hands on hips, with an evil countenance on his face revealed how stretched the truth of that promise had been. If looks could kill, the MAJ would’ve struck down every civilian contractor in the yard by now. The displeasure radiating out of the Battalion XO was echoed by the companies’ XOs. Wren’s second in command, 1 LT Booth, looked like he was contemplating homicide whilst talking with the civilian contractors mounting MILEs gear to the Company’s M150 tank destroyers.
They had left behind relatively cutting-edge equipment, which they had left in top shape, back at their home posting. What greeted them were older models of M60 tanks and TOW launchers, lacking the excellent thermal sights they had come to rely on. The TF’s sister battalion that had just come back from rotation had never warned them about this. They had been put through the wringer and had warned his unit that the infamous OPFOR didn’t play by the rules.
Looking over at the rundown, dated equipment in poor repair, Wren couldn't help but feel that this was part of an elaborate plot to put them off balance before the rotation even began...
Chapter 1.1: The Hasty Attack
 
Near Brown Pass, National Training Centre, Fort Irwin.
The operations group had gathered around a sand table, essentially a scaled-down presentation of local terrain, to plan how they would kick off the mock war for the barren, craggy desert. Wren could feel the sun beating down on his exposed neck as he looked down. He had wisely kept his steel helmet off for the briefing, preferring a patrol cap. It offered some slight relief to the sensation that he was in an oven, and that he particularly was being burned in the pan.
The immediate mission was straightforward, in principle. Brigade had informed them that the lead elements of an enemy Motor Rifle Regiment (MRR) had entered the area of operations and was suspected to be heading towards one of several passages through the corridor. The enemy’s general intent was not difficult to divine: secure one of these features and allow the regiment to debouch onto the desert and deploy for an attack. The TF was to establish contact with the enemy’s forward elements, fix them and, if possible, destroy them. Follow up operations would then commence against the main body of the MRR.  
These first fights would devolve to the companies. The NTC was intended to train the army to fight a step down, that is, a company was expected to go toe-to-toe with an OPFOR battalion, and a battalion with a regiment. It was a tough ask. It put a lot of pressure on guys like Wren, but it also forged these junior leaders into the backbone of America’s army.
The NTC’s entire concept was one big, tough, ask. It had thus far put units, sometimes inadequately trained, always under-equipped, against a dedicated opposing force, or OPFOR. The US Army had played around with the idea of an opposing force before. What had resulted was a hokey B-movie routine simply called the “Aggressors.” They had no foundation in reality, no equipment that bore any relation to something in service, and failed completely to reflect any one of the many likely enemies the United States would face. The Aggressors, like the men who were tasked to portray them, had nothing worth fighting for. Units that rotated in to display them liked getting killed early and often, so they could get a hot meal at the mock casualty clearing stations. It was schlock, and the army had known it.
Fort Irwin, it’s dedicated OPFOR, and the MILEs system (think one giant game of angry laser tag) had changed all that.

This OPFOR had one task: play the Soviets better than the Soviets themselves, and brutalize their enemy whilst doing so. The fact the OPFOR was also expected to meet training standards as a US unit made it a nightmare opponent: a ruthlessly competent enemy that knew your playbook back-to-front.  The first bunch of battalions that had rotated through the NTC had come away shocked, and not infrequently in tatters. Wren’s TF had the advantage of learning from these initial rotations. Two TFs from sister brigades in their division had already gotten their NTC-issued hidings and had diligently and openly disseminated their experiences. They were, theoretically, the best prepared unit yet to come prepared for the fight.
This was their first opportunity to prove that. The Battalion S-2, a highly competent officer with a Master’s in psychology, had put his money down on the idea that the enemy’s lead elements would head for Brown pass. Wren’s area of responsibility. Considering this, the TF Commander had indicated he was willing to throw significant weight behind his company team. Combat aviation, and armour retained under task force control for support of his team, if need be. There were two courses of action: let the lead MRB come through the pass and hit them hard in the bottleneck or push through and find them in the open. The resources his CO was willing to allocate would change depending on the decision, but he trusted his CPT enough to reach one on his own and held his peace as to which he would have preferred.
Wren thought for a moment…Allowing the enemy to come through the pass was the “textbook” solution. It was canalizing terrain and would allow him to get the most out of his company team. It would be a mainly defensive operation, greatly aiding his chances of avoiding heavy losses. Thing is, textbook was obvious. The textbook made for poor reading in this situation, thought Wren. The first option ceded initiative to an OPFOR he knew was lean and mean on the offensive, especially one going to plan. He interrupted his thoughts with a question:
“Are you able to allocate me any of the scouts?” he asked his CO.
“No can do. We need them to tie into the armour battalion TF operating in the Southern Corridor, they can’t put dismounts in those hills as readily as we can.”
If he fought in Brown Pass himself, he would need to seriously contest the high valley mesas, or else the OPFOR would get observers up there and make any type of hasty defence untenable due to artillery fire. He wanted scouts for that, rather than have to put too much load on dismounted foot patrols taken from his platoon. The CO’s answer settled the dilemma. Wren reached over and pushed the little blue block representing his company team through the pass on the sand table.

He could see in his mind, the actual terrain leaping up around him. Wren had always had an eye for terrain, and he knew he could make the most of it here. The “open” ground north of Brown Pass was anything but. It was a series of plateaus, a giant natural staircase, that provided good cover to all but the tallest of vehicles and would allow a commander (on either side) to switch from a long-range engagement to a close-in one at a moment’s notice. The exit of the pass also had a craggy pair of mountains, impassable to vehicles, but perfect for dismounts. Pushing through would make that terrain all his. He intended to use it to its fullest effect.

Preparing for tomorrow’s operations meant it was going to be a long night. Wren, his hard-pressed XO and the platoon leaders had a lot of work to do to make the plan a reality. Wren also had to find the TACP, frustratingly absent at the briefing, and try to integrate the combat aviation into the plan, as he wouldn’t be able to have it “on call” and flexible once the rounds were flying back and forth.
***
16th October, 0900 Hours

They were through Brown Pass, without any enemy air interdiction. At least, 1st Platoon was through. So narrow was the defile, so real the threat of OPFOR air attack, that the Company team was deliberately strung out. This meant that, for 2LT Bunting’s forward group, if there was a fight, it would be his alone for some measure of time. His job was to fix the enemy for the rest of the Company team to manoeuvre aggressively. It was an important, high-risk task and a sign of the trust Wren put in his senior platoon leader. With Bunting’s platoon was the two M150 TOW vehicles, on loan from 1LT Benner’s platoon. The group was moving in staggered column, along a sandy trail, towards a low ridge that denoted the northern mouth of Brown Pass.
Bunting, riding in the lead M113 with a Dragon team and the assigned forward observer, looked over his shoulder. A pair of Cobras was providing intimate support and were hovering just behind Hill 165.5. Suddenly, one of the Cobras raised itself up a bit more and fired off a TOW missile with a hiss and a pop. Contact?

Contact! Urging his track forward, his driver cautiously nosed the M113 in fits and starts up the ridge. Calling a halt, he could see high, hanging dust clouds in the vicinity of PL “Yazoo”, one of several reporting lines to help the TOC track the advance of both B Company and the OPFOR. It quickly became apparent that multiple enemy BMPs were moving fast towards the mouth of the pass. More than he could handle in an open fight. Bunting reacted fast, and with clear-headedness. They had expected this. The Cobras were making the enemy squirm and push with haste, that could play to his advantage. The little bowl his group was in was excellent defensive terrain from which he could pin the enemy. Signalling over the platoon radio, as well as with his hands from the cargo hatch, he ordered his squad tracks into an umbrella-shaped defence.

The flying column cover being provided by the Cobras was showing its worth. Behind excellent positions, the Cobras took turns launching TOWs, which raced at knee-height over the desert to slam into BMPs’ flanks. Wren, hearing Bunting’s contact report, got the word back to TOC quickly. The planned F-16 strike went in 5 minutes after the initial contact report, and they laid their clusters in, presumably with devastating effect.


The OPFOR recon leader stayed calm. He must have known his best bet now was to get forward and to grab the enemy by the belt. The BMPs surged forward. They would be in Bunting’s perimeter within minutes if the Americans didn’t react strongly.

The TOWs weighed in, however, at Bunting’s command. They fired from excellent hull down positions along the low ridge he established his fighting position from. To Bunting’s chagrin, their first few shots are wildly off target. The TOW crews were inexperienced and clearly a bit awe-struck at the sight of a company of BMPs ruthlessly pushing through air attack. It takes two engagements to finally find their nerve – and their targets. A BMP burns.

Then the enemy weighs in with their own fire support. A thunderous crush of artillery impacts just to the left of Bunting’s track. He buttons up to avoid the angry, buzzing shards of shrapnel. The OPFOR artillery is off target but still denies a large part of this excellent battle position to him. More alarmingly, it kicks up the high, hanging dust Bunting has already learned defines the NTC’s desert terrain. Soon his attached TOWs are telling them they can no longer actively engage threats through the dust. ****, this is going to get close and messy, thinks Bunting.
“Earl, get that ramp down and get your ass out with the Dragon, get up there!” he screams to the mounted Dragon team, ducking back down into the cargo compartment.  “Evans, get posted somewhere on this ridge and the Chucks going!” he continues, calmer now, to the attached FO.

The BMPs were only 600 meters or so away now. The vagaries of the terrain were making themselves felt. BMPs were flitting in and out of sight, and the TOWs continued to have trouble engaging, only managing to pick off the occasional BMP.
SPC Earl, the platoon’s Dragon gunner, calmly sets up on a bit of the ridge, determined to cover the short front of the Platoon’s BP. He ignores the artillery, as best he can, and adopts the awkward cross-legged firing position, waiting for the first enemy to pop up over the plateau. A pair of BMPs shortly obliges him, even halting momentarily, to his delight. One is shortly burning. The TOWs catch a lucky break soon afterwards and tally two more BMPs.

In a furious five minutes, Bunting’s small force and air cover appeared to have mauled an enemy company. There was no time to rest on their laurels, however. Another platoon of BMPs, seeing the carnage to their front, smartly pull to their left, disgorging dismounts and creating smoke, and then surge past Bunting’s right flank, towards Point 199.1. Through gaps in the smoke, Bunting is able to track the line of enemy dismounts, and he spots in the distance even more BMPs – the enemy’s main security element?
The Cobras have ceased fire, displacing so as to avoid enemy anti-air fire. A wise move, to be sure, but a poorly timed one from Bunting’s perspective. He has no way of raising them quickly again, lacking a direct communications line to them. It was entirely his fight now.  
Movement is key to any defence, but especially a hasty one. The TOWs were ordered to displace to cover the burgeoning threat on the right flank, but this takes them dangerously close to the enemy artillery fire. The TOW crews find themselves constantly ducking back down to avoid shrapnel.

Nevertheless, they can re-engage, picking off a few of the flankers. 

Then, out of the smoke - and through its own artillery - surges a single enemy BMP. Bunting, too focused on the immediate fight, had never strictly given orders to his squads to dismount in the reverse slope. Luckily, his experienced NCOs read in between the lines and dismounted on their own initiative and had liberally handed-out LAWs to their men whilst doing so. The BMP is engaged effectively by these disposable rockets and is swiftly knocked out.

 
***
This is a beefy chapter, and I don't want to bore you to death...bite sized chunks. To be continued (as for the Normandy DAR, the backlog of photos do was larger than thought, apologies). 

If there will be scenarios please make some with big map and not too many units so there is room for manoeuvring. And enough time too. I think some current scenarios have too many units for the map size so things tend to "get stuck". I mean that after some turns neither side can do much without getting killed.

It's not something I need to have resolved, but it's definitely a bug, Battlefront should be aware of. I don't know how it works ingame, if it is possible to have two players, let's say do a PBEM, and they have maps with different elevations. Not sure how it would turn out in combat with LOS. But if you have a fresh start, the map looks like it is supposed to look like.

The elevation changes if the 3D preview is used several times in the editor, up to the point, that the game crashes consistently at some point. So there must be some sort of memory leak or something, adding up RAM with every load of the map.

Working on a huge map, I noticed the height resolver to be inconsistent when a map is loaded several times in 3D preview in the editor. Restarting Combat Mission solves the problem.
I guess, there is a memory leak somewhere or something. Maybe it is something where Battlefront can improve performance for the Engine update 5.
The following screenshots show the same area of the map without changes, just at different loadings of the game: