Pocket Panzers

After an extended sojourn in the grim darkness of the far future, I got back to basics by finally painting up my PaK 36 model. I haven't painted any WWII figures since a couple of Soviet casualty figures in late December, and haven't featured any new figures on the blog in almost a year . This is the exceptional plastic model from Rubicon, spruced up with a crew made from Warlord's plastic Germans. I didn't much care for the Rubicon crew, I don't think they match the style of the rest of my Germans very well. It took me forever to get around to painting this model, partially because the very specific spare ammo canisters went missing in my bits box for several months after I finished kitbashing the figures. The PaK 36 is greatly maligned among history buffs and wargamers, considered weak to the point of ineffectiveness against French and Soviet tanks. While that reputation is not totally unearned, the guns still made up the backbone of the panzerjager forces for a g

Moving through the forest while avoiding detection by man or beast is as much about sound as anything else. The city-bound think it's all about snapping twigs, but the rustle of underbrush, the clanking of a metal canteen or the squeak of a piece of leather equipment can be even more crucial. The men selected for the raiding party know this, be they Pelletier's milice  or Hardheart's Huron warriors. Moccasin-clad feet pick carefully through the undergrowth as they close on the dim glow of the camp ahead. A few of the men even shield their eyes or avert their gaze to keep from spoiling their night vision. In the camp, too, there are subtle sounds. The crackle of embers, the swish of liquor in the guard's bottle, the faint creak of the rope around a French officer's wrists. Out in the dark, the Canadiens shake out into line with as much care as they approached with. Tremblay is the first to shoulder his musket, drawing a bead. The next sound is not so subtle - the cli