The Fever Islands
Part 2
The Game
by Peter Lawson
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"Peckham ... on a wet Saturday afternoon" ... "Next door's budgie" ... "Auntie Beryl" ... "The Dog and Duck, dahn the `igh Street" ... I'm sure we've all seen this particular advertisement (and on a grim autumn day back in dear old Britain, the scenery and the weather are positively mouthwatering) and Jamaica looks just like this for most of the year (whether you are drinking Bacardi or not!), but for the pragmatists amongst you it is a disturbing fact that approximately four hundred thousand officers and other ranks of all nationalities died of the fevers between the years l796 and 1810, an average mortality rate of forty per cent. When you combine these statistics with the numbers invalided out as unfit for further duty (inevitably to succumb on the journey home or in the slums of London or Paris) plus the minuscule numbers that became casualties as a direct result of enemy action, hellish is not the word. In 1835, the Deputy General of Army Hospitals assessed that the mortality rate in Jamaica during the Revolutionary and the Napoleonic Wars was ten times that of Ireland, the `emerald isle' itself being no holiday camp... Well, having successfully put you off your food (and probably destroyed the tourist economy of Jamaica in the process!) l will conclude this somewhat morbid introduction to Part 2 by simply saying that a chap needed a fair amount of moral fibre merely to set foot into the Caribbean theatre (always assuming, of course, that a chap had a choice); a young Naval officer by the name of Horatio Nelson was O.C. guns at Fort Charles on the Port Royale Peninsula for a period (Port Royale the town of Henry Morgan fame, as aficionados of buckle and swash will tell you, was completely destroyed by the resulting tidal wave of a dastardly hurricane that ravaged the islands on 7 June 1692, but the name has survived, although the once grand Port Royale is now only a sleepy fishing village). It is recorded by virtually all of Nelson's biographers that he was, indeed, afflicted with the fevers for a time, but as it is well known that the great man suffered abysmally from chronic seasickness aboard ship, he was doubtless grateful to at least be upon terra firma for a while.... THE GAME:At the outset, the game is structured with a totally variable time scale enabling the players to pass from one critical event to another. O.K. here we go. If you have a quick perusal of the U.S. Navy's briefings once again, you will note that this stalwart officer has set a course for the NW coast of Grand Cayman after consulting his "hastily delivered orders". None of the other player characters know this as yet (it doesn't really matter if they do and, in any case, we've discussed all round this topic in Part 1...) but the amphibious action that we are going to fight will be the landings against the piratical haven of Beelzebub Bay, with or without the cooperation of the U.S. Navy, and more of this intriguing aspect anon. (See the sketch map of Grand Cayman and the TacMap). So, we have the US Navy a clear furlong ahead at the moment; the Royal Navy and the Marines are about to make landfall at Jamaica, and the Jamaican Regt. player and Monsieur le Comte are already there, and no doubt champing at the bit. 1. THE TRAINING PHASERunning concurrently with the introduction to the characters (or possibly as an aside to the Committee Game (see below) whilst the politico in the guise of Sir Percy does his bit) is an interesting feature that should run no longer than 10 minutes of game time: in effect, a sort of DIY training manual for long sea voyages. Here's how :
b) Each `platoon' should be allocated a maximum of 10 training points; these points can be spent `buying' various aspects of ability during the voyage out. The Ability lists are as follows :
SEAMEN - Basic Fitness, Advanced Seamanship, Advanced Gunnery, Basic Musketry, Survival, Close Quarter Battle, Boarding Action, Basic Skirmishing, Amphibious Assault, General Duties, etc. The above abilities are not exhaustive and could, of course, be greatly extended (with the addition of grading by ability, for example, i.e. Advanced, Medium, Basic, Rudimentary (or crap!) but the idea is to reflect the tastes of individual commanders at the time; Cochrane for one certainly developed an early form of `circuit training' for his crews, but most others left the crews to their own devices and relied on good, old fashioned phlegm. Life at sea could prove to be rigorous enough without an additional training schedule... c) At least 4 training points should be spent on your platoons' primary occupations (i.e. Musketry for the Marines ("..who said Survival? Take that man's name....") and Seamanship/Gunnery for the Seamen) with the remaining 6 points spread over the remaining abilities, at the OC's discretion. We could get bogged down in years of discussion here (for example, ways to reflect the availability or otherwise of equipment with which to train, how many cadres should be `speciality' trained, etc.) but we won't. All that is fundamentally necessary is that the Complement Roster should be marked adjacently with the relative training points. Whenever a relevantly trained `platoon' performs its `Joker event" (I'll bet some of the younger readers won't get this one ! Ed,) the BRILLIANTLY INNOVATIVE GAMING MECHANISMS are adJusted with a `plus 1' on the die/nugget. Complicated, isn't it? (For those Game Organisers out there who are, like me, devious to a fault: how about simply putting all the abilities - previously prepared on card - into a hat and forcing the poor fools to blindly select, say, 4 cards? You are always going to get the buffoon who will attempt to turn his lobsters/tars into SBS super-heroes; just watch him deflate before your eyes when his favoured Marines draw Basic Drill, General Duties, Survival (as we all know, when you're in a boat of any kind, this means `swimming' and Needlepoint. ("Hmmm... can't imagine how that one got in there.."). Well, so much for the Training Phase. It's just the bare bones (10 minutes maximum, remember) but I suppose it could be developed into a large paper exercise with lots of scope for some juicy roleplay. Another day, another game... make what you will of it. 2. THE COMMITTEE GAMEThis phase also has the potential to became a sprawling epic very rapidly, so this period will need a firm hand. If it drifts over 20 minutes, you will notice at least one of the players stifling a yawn (and I'll bet it's the Marine again...). It unfolds thus:
b) The Governor graces the new arrivals with his attendance at a `power breakfast' in Fort Charles, at the expense of the RN Commander. (For the best part of three centuries, colonial protocol deemed it customary for the resident bigwig to greet recent arrivals from home in situ i.e. on the ship, or pretty close by it. This gave the aforesaid bigwig ample time to assess what was worth having away on one's toes, The formal `new arrivals' bash usually happened several days later up at Government House, assuming, of course, that the new arrivals warranted such expense). Accompanying the Governor is the CO of the 1st. West India Regt. (often referred to as the Jamaica Regt, or simply the Jamaicans) and the CO of the Duke of York's Rangers. So, around the table we have the RN Commander, the Major of Marines, the CO 1st. W.I. Regt., the CO York's Rangers and your good self (the Game Organiser) in the role of Sir Percy Macdonald. ("But hang it all", says you, "the dastardly Yanks will have done the deed and be hitting the Buds before we've even finished breakfast..." Not so. It may seem as if the USN is being left a free hand, but they will have their own problems. All will be revealed below). c) The `Governor' formally introduces everyone (once again, if they are already acquainted as longtime wargame adversaries, it matters little) and bores everyone to death (for no more than 30 seconds, game time) with the diverse travails of a hard working and conscientious diplomat in the loyal employ of His Britannic Majesty, God Bless `im. d) The `Governor' lays it on them! There is no need for the players to deliver a `sitrep' for his pleasure (unless he is feeling particularly obstreperous) but, if they are not already aware, the players themselves may brief each other as to how they all arrived at this, happy juncture, with reference to their briefings. At this delicate point (I say `delicate' because more than one of the characters seated before you may take serious umbridge and cries of `Pistols at dawn!" may echo around the wargames room IF the roleplay gets just a teeny bit out of hand, It is widely rumoured that `fantasy' gamers positively relish pushing their roles to the absolute limit, and then beyond...But `historical' gamers are all gentlemen, are we not?) Sir Percy Macdonald should produce a map of the Caribbean (any old school atlas will do at a pinch), sweep aside the Port and declare authoritatively that the BOURDELOIS will be placed under his direct command forthwith as (i) an effective one ship buffer force (those juicy carronades) against any future Frog machinations originating to the East (Hispaniola St. Domingo. etc.) or (ii) as a heavily armed bank for his return to England with his family and gains or (iii) as a floating brothel. Howls of derision will follow this bombshell (with possibly a muffled sniff from the RN Commander as he sees his carefully thought out, multipurpose, body count generating scenario go out the window). But it simply will not do, you see, and here's why: your average gamer (just as soon as he gets to wherever he's supposed to be fighting) will not risk his precious victory points on a potentially costly assault when he can stand off somewhere out of harm's reach and blow the s..t out of everything in sight. This ain't on, because, historically speaking, objectives were always taken `at the point of the bayonet' by TACTICAL necessity; but if you jumped up into a helicopter and had a gander from the STRATEGIC point of view, lo and behold, you would invariably discover that all the assets that any self-respecting victory point man could desire were scattered about, seemingly willy-nilly and, presumably, unemployed. It is a fact that British forces in the Caribbean could muster at least fifty warships, innumerable smaller vessels and at least thirty thousand men to any given place within a month (probably quicker, if one assumes less time taken for logistical considerations), This is the one inherent snag with one off encounters and the simplest way round it is....,to fudge it. (Believe me, I have tried letting the players take every piece of kit they could lay their hands on - and this included stripping the ordnance from every fort from Jamaica to St, Kitt's - but it doesn't really gel). Anyway, the easiest method round all this is for Sir Percy to spin a credible yarn about "weighty responsibilities elsewhere, need all the warships I can lay my hands on, Johnny Crapeau will be at it again shortly, mark my words, oh, and be good chaps and sort out this tiresome gaggle of reprobates operating out of Beelzebub Bay, North coast of Grand Cayman, wouldn't be surprised if those jackals in George Town (nominal capital of Cayman, but little more than a village) are sponsoring all this piratical activity, Whigs, don't y'know, pass the Port, laddie..." All the above should take approximately 10 minutes to gracefully unfold; the ensuing bunfight (euphemistically termed `the planning session') could take the rest of the weekend quite comfortably, with your good self (now safely back into the personae of the Games Organiser - one of the players (probably the RN Commander) will be gleefully sticking drawing pins into an improvised effigy of Sir Percy MacDonald) separating the protagonists on occasion. No, no and thrice no. Tell them they are under the clock and keep them to it. Make them sweat a little harder with the following:
THE SET UPAt this juncture, you, the Game Organiser, do your Blue Peter bit: "this is what I have prepared earlier". Before the USN sees the table, however, make sure that ALL of the terrain features (including the sea areas) are completely covered from prying eyes with some suitable (green beize?) cloth. You will note from the TacMap that there is a line marked `concealed" just beyond the knoll; this far area remains hidden until troops attempt to move into it. In other words, this is a very simplistic version of the `gradually evolving terrain' principle. (Some items tend to come adrift with the concealing cloth - trees, lichen, etc. - it just needs a little practice to sweep the cloth off majestically in order to receive a gasp of appreciation from the players, and why not? As with all layouts, this can be made as elaborate or as functional as you like; personally, I lean more towards the latter. I designed the table with 15mm figures in mind and with dimensions of approx. 6ft. x 4ft. The Caribbean sea area (with its cork scatter coral reef) could be any old deep blue cloth with the sandy/shingle beeches clearly marked (with felt, coloured paper or, indeed, shingle and sand). My version of the mole, sea wall and the knoll is a cheat; I took an old flock covered, polystyrene hill (the manufacturer escapes me) and hacked out a segment of one end. Into this, I glued a former of balsa wood and card. A heavy dose of Tetrion, cork scatter and textured paint and it was complete. I think an examination of the TacMap will illustrate this device very clearly. Bear in mind that you will have a height differential of approximately 2 inches from sea level into the Jungle beyond, so suitable `building' terrain (such as Geo-Hex) is in order. The quay-side/sea wall area was made deliberately angular (and square); as a piece of modular terrain, it will suffice as a small "Joe's Jetty" as per this game, but will also serve well as a coastal town for larger scale actions across at least six centuries of history (with the addition of a dozen or so extra buildings to order). The steps are simply pieces of crudely carved balsa and card, as were the other scratch built buildings. The two adobe dwellings on the quayside should feature the low, flat Moorish influenced Spanish roofs so typical throughout the West Indies and the Caribbean. (Ideal places to mount the popguns). With the final trimmings (lots of trees, lichen and loose stones/cork scattering) all that is necessary is to correctly place the surf, (cottonwool for me, but I have seen some beautifully detailed frothy brine in one or two demonstration games recently) one of the most interesting aspects of landing actions so often overlooked by gamers: watch the opening sequence of good old "Hawaii Five 0" if you appear bemused. THE FIGURESThe game utilises a figure scale of 5 : 1 , giving a full strength company deploying 20 15mm figures. All the characters should be represented (use your best painting skills here) as should a good handful of the junior officers and the NCOs. I'm sure that all of you are familiar with the uniform details (?) of the Royal Navy, but bear in mind that considerable latitude was condoned in `theatres of disrepute'. Where possible, Naval officers would try to cut some style in their best blues (if the action promised to be not too disagreeable with one's hose) but the tars would wear what was comfortable, there being no officially recognised OR's dress at this time. The Marines, likewise, would attempt to put on a show (full uniform, certainly, but clubbed and powdered hair was no longer on in the tropics) porting their recently acquired Royal facings and lace. There is some evidence that the round hat could be covered with an oilskin (or even with a white cheesecloth a la the colonials - see below) but MY Marines look the part, starch in their underwear and NO concessions for the climate. The 1st. West India Regt, are uniformed similarly to the Marines (brick red jacket cut tunic-style) with a distinctive double breasted lapel. Facing colours were white for the 1st., but with red collars. Their round hats are covered with white cheesecloths (one or two with garlands of flowers (!)) and their crossbelts are black, in common with most other `colonial' troops of this period and beyond. The officers are totally laid back: shirtsleeve order, covered round hats with puggarees, large, sombrero like sun-hats, coats open to the waist exposing the weskit. As close to `going native' as you can get without causing offence. The York Rangers (poor benighted souls) are in dark blue coats with yellowish buff facings and lapels. The Ranger cap was almost certainly abandoned before the turn of the century in favour of the ubiquitous covered round hat; that aside, the overall impression of this once proud corps would be truly dismal. It is likely that they had no replacement uniforms whatsoever after the Netherlands campaign; a sorry episode indeed. The US Navy tars would be attired as their British counterparts, with the officers in blue (and occasionally smart red facings). The US Marine Corps (fledgling, maybe, but a tough outfit, nonetheless) wore full dress of dark blue coats and red facings. Round hats were unofficially adopted, virtually identical to the Royals. As for the enemy? (What enemy?) All will be revealed in the concluding part, along with details of my home-brew, `back of postcard' rules and a blow by blow account of the impending blood n' guts. Bring your surfboard ..... Fever Islands Part 1
Map: Grand Cayman circa 1803: 40K Back to Table of Contents -- First Empire #9 Back to First Empire List of Issues Back to MagWeb Master Magazine List © Copyright 1992 by First Empire. This article appears in MagWeb (Magazine Web) on the Internet World Wide Web. Other military history articles and gaming articles are available at http://www.magweb.com |