19.73MB - View From The Trenches

26~ "3~l~. -"......THEY SHALLBEPLAYTESTERSBy Mark C. NixonON THE BRINKOne of those dingy grey, midwest winter eveningswas encroaching upon the village ofPerrysburg, namesake of the famous Americannaval hero, Commodore Oliver Harmless Burg, asthe Wargamer kicked snow from his boots, slid thekey into an ice-encrusted lock and opened his doorto an evenings' delights of food and family. Homefrom the day's labors. Home from freeway driving.Home from petulant others of a demandingworld. Home for the weekend."You have a letter from 'That Place'," came afeeble response from the bedroom to his greeting.Of course. The empty ice bag box; the halfemptyice tray in the sink, several cubes lying ingrowing puddles around the kitchen in no certainpattern; the baby screaming in his crib; the sensationof impending doom in the air; perhaps theseshould have indicated something big was in theoffing. And yet all were pushed into the darkrecesses of his mind, banished beyond recall by therealization of what 'That Place' meant. He hadalmost given up hope during the past few months.His hands even trembled slightly as they toreopen the legal-sized envelope with familiarhexagonal pattern in its return address. Desperatenow, he whipped out the contents and read fromthe cover letter:Dear Squad Leader Enthusiast;It has been a long time since I last correspondedwith you in reference to your interestin participating in the GI playtest.The long wait was over. The playtest hadbegun!But wait. What did he read in the thirdparagraph? Three months to test 45 scenarios,handwritten rules, scenario cards in Sanskrit, informationfor the new counters to be found in theLibrary of Congress? How could they do this tohim? Not that these posed any insurmountableproblems in and of themselves; but, how best topresent this to the wife?How could he tell her she wouldn't be seeinghim for the next three months, except for occasionalmeals and the inevitable morning struggle towake up from two hours of a restless, revised ruleinfested sleep to shower, shave and do all the otherregrettably necessary things required by an 8 to 5job which he conceded would have to be keptdespite the inconvenience.Or, worse yet, suppose she jumps for joy at thepossibility of three glorious months of continuouslyknowing exactly where he would be, and her resultantfreedom to do as she pleased. She might actuallygrow accustomed to that and expect it tocontinue beyond the playtest. Yes, he would haveto take a serious look at the long-range implicationsof this whole undertaking.TAKING THE PLUNGEAfter lengthy consideration (about ten minuteswas all he could handle with GI hanging in thebalance), he opted for the only responsible solutionavailable. He would enlist the aide of his localcronies and ruin their marriages as well! Then,when the test was completed, they could wargameevery night instead of this once a week hooey. Nomore shopping trips and playing handymanaround the house. No more dirty diapers andwashing dishes. They would all eat out every dayon the money saved from not buying all thoseuseless homeowner knick-knacks and kitchengadgets, diapers and expensive 'cultural' outings(such as seeing every Alan AIda movie whichcrawled along), not to mention the savings fromnot remodeling some part of the house every year.But slowly, fears of alimony, eating stomachdefyingfast foods and, worst of all, moving intoan apartment and once again fequenting laundromatscrept into his thoughts and demanded thebattle plan be revised. Arranging a three monthbinge of wargaming without offending everyonewithin a hundred mile radius would require utilizinghis most persuasive diplomatic skills. He wouldlie!There was already one strike against him, theheadache he could actually feel pounding in awife's inner anti-wargame cranium, which hadbeen brought on by the mere sight of those littlehexagons in the return address of 'That Place'. Sheremembered the end of the last playtest, when insteadof his practiced, soothing voice walking herthrough a Lamaze delivery of their first-born shewas treated to a recitation of why British andFrench armor cannot breakthrough and exploit inconjuncture in 1939. He should have realized thatbreakthrough and exploitation were not exactlythe subjects she wanted to discuss at that sensitivetime. But his own senses were still reeling from thelabor room where she had floored him byspeculating that inclusion of the new IntelligenceRule might lead George Carlin to revise his'Mutually Exclusive' routine from MilitaryIntelligence to Wargame Intelligence.Later, in the recovery room, she claimed theexcitement in his voice hadn't really upset her thatmuch. But he remembered the scene in the deliveryroom, how she had almost become hysterical whenhe had pulled out a black magic marker, drawn ahex pattern on her exposed abdomen, and begunmoving those yellow and blue armored unitsaround to illustrate the point. His excitement hadbeen quenched only when the big nurse, they calledher 'Bomba', heisted the unsterilized objects,never to return them. The lesson continued to bedriven home every time the unfortunate wargamerplayed THIRD REICH with homemade Britishand French armor counters.With a second child on the way it was not difficultto imagine the nature of thoughts which hadgenerated today's headache. Nevertheless, thisthing had to be nipped in the bud; he ventured afew opening remarks."Sheesh, you can't imagine how much workthis playtest will be.""I can imagine, 1 can imagine.""I don't see any way it can be done, what withperiodic trips to the Library of Congress to checkarmor listings.""So don't do it."Obviously, this was not the correct approach."I wonder who will be willing to help? I canprobably get Pat, Tim, Russ and Ken at least."("And drag them down with me!")"What about your cousin Chuck in Cincinnati?Why don't you just send the whole mess to him?""But he's in law school. I doubt he'd haveenough time.""Why not? You're always saying that all theworld needs is more rules lawyers."It was one thing when she outmaneuvered him.Being outwitted literally drove him berserk. Heavyartillery time!"Okay, if you really don't want me to do this; ifyou want me to spend the next three months inagony knowing someone else is using what shouldhave been our playtest materials; if you wanteveryone else to hate me for working them up withall the big talk of a playtest and then finking out atthe last minute; if you want me to hold this overyour head for the rest of what will become yourunnatural life, I won't do the playtest. "