Having already committed the unthinkable act of downsizing the dinosaurs, it quickly became apparent that the landscape would have to suffer the same indignity. There was little point having tiny dinosaurs wandering around enormous rivers, hiding behind trees the size of office blocks, or climbing hills that would require oxygen and a base camp. So the terrain department was ordered to begin its own programme of prehistoric shrinkflation.
River with hills added
First came the river hexes, followed by hills and suitably undersized trees, all designed to convince the tiny dinosaurs that nothing unusual had happened and this was, in fact, how large they had always been. I suspect they remain unconvinced. Still, once everything is on the table the effect works rather well, and what was once a sprawling Lost World has become a remarkably compact Lost World, presumably after intervention by a particularly ruthless team of Jurassic property developers.
Trees added
Of course, no respectable dinosaur landscape can survive without a volcano, so a suitably tiny one has appeared along with a lava flow. The volcano may be smaller, but I see no reason why it should be any less troublesome. Indeed, there is something especially satisfying about watching a miniature prehistoric catastrophe unfold across a handful of hexes while several tiny dinosaurs discover that downsizing has done absolutely nothing to improve workplace health and safety.
Volcano about to erupt.
So the rivers are flowing, the hills are rising, the trees are growing and the volcano is preparing to misbehave.
Volcano erupting (a fun game mechanic)
All that remains is to unleash the tiny dinosaurs upon their tiny world and hope they appreciate the effort. Somehow I doubt it.
The bases are 32mm size hexes from back2base-ix with the hills and trees on 6mm thick hexes and the water and dino’s on 2mm thick hexes. All hexes are individuals so to achieve the combinations of different shaped hills they were glued on thick card.
The dinos are next! Roar, roar, roar, roar (apologies to Kate Perry)!
Not every servant of Dagon remains recognisably human. Some answer the call of the deep for too long, allowing the old blood to reshape flesh into something that belongs neither on land nor beneath the waves. The Tentacled Hybrid is one such creature.
Where a cultist fights through fanaticism, the Hybrid fights through instinct. Thick, writhing tentacles lash out with unnerving speed, seizing, striking, and dragging down anyone foolish enough to come within reach. Bullets and blades may slow it, but the creature advances with the relentless certainty of the tide.
Among the faithful it is regarded as a blessing, living proof that devotion to Father Dagon brings transformation rather than death. To everyone else it is simply a nightmare given physical form, a glimpse of humanity’s fate should the old gods finally reclaim the world.
On the tabletop the Tentacled Hybrid excels at close quarters, where its terrifying appearance and brutal attacks can quickly turn a fight in the Church of Dagon’s favour. Supported by cultists and the Priest, it becomes the spearhead of the congregation’s advance, spreading panic as readily as casualties.
Another unsettling addition to my growing Church of Dagon posse for Dracula’s America. The congregation is slowly emerging from the depths, and they look increasingly less human with every new recruit.
Michael Caulfield’s War Behind the Wire is an engaging account of the Australian prisoner of war experience that places the emphasis firmly on the men and women who endured captivity rather than on the military campaigns that led to their capture. Drawing heavily on veterans’ recollections, the book succeeds in conveying the hardships of imprisonment, the importance of comradeship, and the resilience that enabled many prisoners to survive under extraordinarily difficult conditions.
The book’s greatest strength lies in its accessibility. Caulfield has assembled a broad range of personal experiences and presents them in a narrative that is easy to follow and emotionally engaging. The accounts are varied enough to demonstrate that captivity was not a single, uniform experience, with conditions differing significantly between Japanese, German, and Italian camps. By allowing individual stories to drive the narrative, the author reminds readers that the prisoner of war experience cannot be understood simply through statistics or official reports.
The breadth of coverage is also commendable. Rather than focusing exclusively on the notorious camps of the Asia Pacific theatre, Caulfield examines Australian prisoners captured in Europe, North Africa, and later conflicts. This wider perspective helps place the Australian experience into a broader historical context and challenges the common tendency to associate Australian prisoners of war solely with Changi or the Burma Thailand Railway.
Despite these strengths, the book is less successful as a work of historical analysis. The emphasis on personal testimony inevitably comes at the expense of deeper examination of the wider strategic, political, and administrative issues surrounding prisoner of war policy. Topics such as the differing treatment of prisoners under various international conventions, the organisation of prison camp systems, or comparisons between Allied and Axis captivity receive relatively limited discussion. Readers looking for a comprehensive scholarly study may therefore find the analysis somewhat thin.
The reliance on oral history also presents occasional limitations. Personal memories provide powerful insight into individual experiences, but they are inherently subjective and sometimes reflect events recalled decades after they occurred. While Caulfield generally provides sufficient context, there are times when greater comparison with official records or more detailed discussion of differing interpretations would have strengthened the historical analysis.
The narrative style is straightforward and highly readable, although the book occasionally moves quickly between individual accounts without developing broader themes in greater depth. Some readers may wish for more discussion of how the experiences described fit within the larger history of Australia’s wartime prisoner of war system and the long term physical and psychological effects of captivity after repatriation.
Overall, War Behind the Wire succeeds admirably as a collection of Australian prisoner of war experiences and as an introduction to the human dimension of captivity. It is not intended to be the definitive academic study of the subject, and it should not be judged on that basis. Instead, it provides an important record of individual endurance and sacrifice that complements more specialised historical works. For readers seeking an engaging overview supported by compelling personal accounts, it is well worth reading, although those wanting a deeper analytical treatment will need to supplement it with more scholarly studies.
This time I have added two Scaly Hybrids and an extra Rifleman, giving the gang a little more staying power when the shooting starts. Every cult needs its loyal followers, and these three certainly look as though they have answered a call that came from somewhere no map has ever recorded.
The Scaly Hybrids are wonderfully unsettling figures. They still wear the rough shape of humanity, but only just. Their skin has taken on that damp, unnatural texture that suggests too many generations spent honouring ancient bargains beneath black water. Their eyes seem to watch from the wrong angle, and there is something about the way they stand that hints they are listening to voices carried on tides that no one else can hear.
They are not merely bodyguards. They are the faithful. They have seen what waits below the surface and accepted the bargain without hesitation. When the Emissary speaks, they do not question. They obey with the quiet certainty of those who know that Dagon’s kingdom is older than any frontier town and will still endure long after the last church bell has fallen silent.
The Rifleman provides a little more practical support. Even an ancient sea god appreciates accurate firepower, and while the Hybrids advance with grim determination, someone still has to keep nervous lawmen and overconfident bounty hunters pinned behind cover. Not every servant of Dagon relies upon claws and ancient whispers. Some simply know how to use a good rifle.
I am really enjoying putting this gang together. There is something wonderfully sinister about watching what begins as an ordinary collection of frontier figures slowly transform into a congregation devoted to things best left sleeping beneath dark waters. The Old West has always had its share of strange preachers. This one simply has a much older congregation waiting offshore.
The latest addition to my Dracula’s America collection is an Emissary of Dagon, one of those characters that immediately catches the eye and promises all sorts of mischief on the tabletop.
Unlike a straightforward gunfighter, she is not there to win duels or charge into the thick of every fight. Her real strength lies in what she brings to those around her. As a devoted servant of the Deep Ones, she spreads the influence of Dagon, supporting cultists, unsettling opponents, and creating opportunities for darker forces to emerge. Used well, she becomes the centre of a gang rather than its strongest fighter.
On the table she is at her best lurking behind tougher followers, directing the action while using her strange powers to tip events in her favour. Opponents quickly discover that the greatest threat is not always the figure carrying the biggest weapon but the one quietly pulling the strings from the shadows. Ignore her, and your gang may find itself facing unnatural horrors. Concentrate too much on stopping her, and the rest of the cult can close in.
From a hobby perspective she was also great fun to paint. There is plenty of scope for weathered robes, sea stained colours, strange relics, and just enough fishlike detail to hint that perhaps she has spent rather too much time in places where no sensible person should go. She looks every bit the mysterious prophetess, inspiring loyalty among the faithful while spreading quiet unease among everyone else.
I am looking forward to seeing what sort of trouble she can cause in the next game. Every frontier town has its preacher. Mine just happens to be preaching the gospel of Dagon, and I have a feeling that before the game is over, a few more converts will be answering the call from the depths.
Some sacrifices have to be made in the name of progress. This year, thanks to the eternal battle for table space at Victorious on 15 August at Box Hill Town Hall, my magnificent giant dinosaurs have been evicted.
Yes, evicted.
For years they thundered across the table on glorious 100 mm hexes, terrifying explorers, flattening expeditions, and generally reminding everyone why humans should never have invented time travel.
Now? They’ve been replaced by their much smaller cousins on 25 mm hexes.
The down-sized dinosaurs based for painting.
The dinosaurs are not impressed. There have been complaints. I suspect a union meeting. There are also rumours they have hired a consultant to investigate unfair resizing practices.
The change has meant making an entirely new table, building fresh terrain, painting an alarming number of tiny plastic dinosaurs, and discovering that painting eyes on something smaller than your thumbnail is an excellent test of patience and eyesight.
Hills ready for painting and flocking
Of course, the experts tell me this is not downsizing. It is “optimising table efficiency.” That sounds suspiciously like the sort of thing the managers at Jurassic Park would have said just before everything escaped.
Tree hexes well on the way
If you are coming to Victorious, come and see whether the smaller dinosaurs are any less dangerous. Personally, I think they are simply better at sneaking up on unsuspecting explorers. After all, nobody ever said prehistoric predators had to be large to ruin your day.
Volcano ready for painting
Apparently even dinosaurs are not immune to shrinkflation. They may have lost three quarters of their table space, but they still have exactly the same attitude. Also never fear the Dinosaur rulebook is still the same size and at a great show discount as well!
David and Charles, who were the inspiration for the rules, will be on hand to guide you through your own Jurassic/Cretaceous adventure.
Today with the review of James Alexander’s “Battle of Britain” I published my 2,500th post on this WordPress site.
What began as a place to share research, ideas, and the occasional wargaming project has grown into a substantial archive covering military history, Australian frontier conflict, World War II campaigns, tabletop wargame design, book reviews, writing, and the many subjects that continue to spark my curiosity.
Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read an article, leave a comment, ask a question, or simply stop by. Your interest and encouragement have made the journey worthwhile.
There is still plenty more to come, with new books, rules, historical research, and articles already in the works.
James Alexander’s The Battle of Britain is an impressive and highly accessible introduction to one of the pivotal campaigns of the Second World War. Presented as a large-format illustrated volume, the book is clearly aimed at readers who appreciate military history presented in a visually engaging format. In this respect it succeeds admirably. The production quality is excellent, with a generous selection of wartime photographs, colour artwork, aircraft profiles, contemporary posters, and maps that combine to create an attractive reference suitable for both casual reading and display.
One of the book’s greatest strengths is its visual presentation. The illustrations are not merely decorative but help place the reader within the campaign, providing a sense of the aircraft, airfields, pilots, and civilians who experienced the battle. The photographs are generally well chosen and reproduced to a high standard, while the accompanying maps make it easier to follow the changing pattern of German attacks and British defensive operations. Readers with an interest in aviation will particularly appreciate the detailed aircraft illustrations and the attention given to the distinctive characteristics of the RAF and Luftwaffe machines.
Alexander presents the campaign in a clear chronological manner, tracing the Luftwaffe’s transition from attacks on Channel shipping and coastal targets through to the sustained assault on RAF Fighter Command before the shift towards the bombing of London and other British cities. The narrative is easy to follow and avoids becoming bogged down in technical detail, making the book particularly suitable for readers approaching the subject for the first time. The operational story is explained competently, and the importance of radar, the integrated air defence system, aircraft production, and the determination of RAF personnel is conveyed without overwhelming the reader.
Where the book is less convincing is in the depth of its historical analysis. The emphasis remains firmly on describing events rather than examining why they unfolded as they did. Complex operational and strategic questions are introduced but rarely explored in detail. The evolving German strategy, the decision-making processes within both the Luftwaffe and RAF Fighter Command, and the continuing historical debates over German objectives and British responses receive relatively limited attention. Similarly, there is little discussion of the logistical challenges faced by both sides or the intelligence and organisational factors that influenced the course of the campaign.
The book also gives only modest attention to the historiography of the Battle of Britain. Modern scholarship has challenged many long-standing assumptions about the campaign, including the effectiveness of German intelligence, the actual condition of Fighter Command during the height of the battle, and the significance of the Luftwaffe’s decision to redirect its effort toward London. These debates are largely absent, with the narrative favouring a traditional overview rather than engaging with competing historical interpretations. Readers seeking a more analytical examination of the campaign will therefore need to consult more specialised works by historians such as Richard Overy, James Holland, Stephen Bungay, or Williamson Murray.
This is not necessarily a weakness given the apparent purpose of the volume. Alexander appears to have intended the book as an attractive general history rather than an academic study, and it succeeds well within those limits. The writing is concise, accessible, and supported throughout by outstanding visual material that encourages readers to continue exploring the subject. For newcomers to the Battle of Britain, the book provides an excellent introduction that captures the broad narrative and highlights the campaign’s importance without becoming overly technical.
Overall, The Battle of Britain is an excellent coffee table history that combines high production values with an informative overview of the campaign. Its greatest strength lies in its superb illustrations and accessible narrative, making it an enjoyable volume to browse as well as read from cover to cover. Although readers seeking detailed operational analysis or engagement with current historical scholarship may find it lacking in depth, it nevertheless serves as an attractive and worthwhile introduction to one of the most significant air campaigns of the Second World War. It is recommended as an introductory survey and visual history rather than as a comprehensive analytical study and I have rated against that.
⭐⭐⭐⭐
Rating: 4 out of 5.
I still have seven more books to review but will try and intersperse them between other posts.
The defence of Thalang in 1785 occupies a central place in Thai historical memory, most often associated with the leadership of Thao Thep Krasattri and Thao Sri Sunthon. Their actions have long been celebrated as a moment of unity and resistance in the face of invasion. Yet beyond this narrative lies a more complex and revealing story.
Defending Thalang re-examines the campaign as a structured conflict shaped by environment, organisation, and the limits of military power. Rather than treating the defence as an isolated episode or symbolic event, this study reconstructs the conditions under which it unfolded. It demonstrates how coral reef systems, constrained littoral movement, and fragmented inland terrain shaped the possibilities of action for both invading and defending forces.
Drawing on Thai historical sources, regional studies, and comparative analysis of warfare in Southeast Asia, David Smith argues that the outcome of the campaign cannot be explained by numbers or strength alone. Instead, it emerged from the interaction between constraint, asymmetry, and leadership. The Burmese invasion did not fail through decisive defeat, but through the progressive inability to apply force effectively within a restricted operational environment.
At the centre of this analysis are Thao Thep Krasattri and Thao Sri Sunthon, whose leadership transformed environmental limitation into organised resistance. Their role is reinterpreted not simply as symbolic or commemorative, but as operational and decisive.
Bridging historical analysis and cultural memory, this book offers a new understanding of the defence of Thalang, one that restores both its complexity and its significance. It will appeal to readers of military history, Southeast Asian studies, and anyone interested in how environment, leadership, and organisation shape the outcomes of conflict.
The Book is available from Amazon on Kindle Unlimited free for a limited time here and in paperback for AU$32.95 from here.
Mark Johnston’s The Markham and Ramu Valleys 1943–1944 is among the strongest publications in the Department of Veterans’ Affairs’ Australians in the Pacific War series. Although relatively short, the booklet provides an informative and accessible account of one of the Australian Army’s most significant campaigns in New Guinea. Written for a broad readership rather than an academic audience, it successfully explains both the course of the campaign and its wider strategic importance without overwhelming the reader with unnecessary detail.
One of the booklet’s principal strengths is Johnston’s ability to simplify a complex military operation while retaining the essential historical narrative. The advance through the Markham and Ramu Valleys, including the capture of Kaiapit and the subsequent fighting in the Finisterre Range, is presented as part of a broader Allied strategy aimed at securing central New Guinea and supporting the advance towards the Philippines. Rather than describing battles in isolation, Johnston demonstrates how each operation contributed to the overall campaign and helped establish the airfields and supply routes needed for later offensives.
The narrative combines operational history with the experiences of the soldiers who fought the campaign. Instead of concentrating solely on commanders and battlefield manoeuvres, Johnston incorporates the realities faced by Australian infantrymen operating in harsh tropical conditions. The difficulties of moving through steep mountains, maintaining supply lines, coping with disease, and fighting a determined Japanese defence receive appropriate attention, giving readers a clearer appreciation of the human cost of the campaign.
The publication is particularly well supported by contemporary photographs, maps, and illustrations. These visual resources complement the narrative by helping readers understand the terrain and the operational challenges encountered in places such as Kaiapit, Dumpu, Shaggy Ridge, and the Finisterre Range. The maps are especially useful for readers unfamiliar with the geography of central New Guinea, allowing the progress of the campaign to be followed with ease.
Johnston’s writing is balanced and measured throughout. Australian achievements are acknowledged without exaggeration, while Japanese forces are portrayed as capable and resilient opponents whose determined defence contributed significantly to the campaign’s difficulty. This balanced treatment enhances the credibility of the work and reflects Johnston’s reputation as one of Australia’s leading military historians.
The booklet’s greatest limitation is its brevity. Because it is intended as an introductory history, many important subjects receive only a concise treatment. Operational planning, logistics, intelligence, air support, and cooperation between Australian and American forces are discussed only at a general level. Readers seeking detailed analysis of command decisions, unit organisation, or campaign logistics will need to consult more substantial works on the New Guinea campaign.
Similarly, the Japanese perspective receives comparatively limited attention. The publication focuses primarily on Australian operations and their contribution to the Allied advance, leaving little room for an examination of Japanese planning, command decisions, or operational doctrine. While understandable given the booklet’s purpose, this does restrict its usefulness for readers seeking a more comprehensive understanding of both sides of the campaign.
Despite these limitations, The Markham and Ramu Valleys 1943–1944 remains an excellent introductory study. Its clear narrative, effective use of illustrations, and accessible writing make it an ideal starting point for readers wishing to learn about a campaign that has often received less attention than Kokoda or Buna. Johnston succeeds in explaining why the fighting in the Markham and Ramu Valleys was an important step in the Allied reconquest of New Guinea and how Australian forces overcame difficult terrain and determined resistance to achieve their objectives. All in all a great introduction for new comers to the campaign and a great pictorial. Not for the reader that is looking for detail on the campaign itself.
⭐⭐⭐⭐
Rating: 3.5 out of 5.
This publication is highly recommended for readers seeking a concise yet authoritative overview of the campaign. Although its limited length prevents detailed scholarly analysis, it succeeds admirably as an introduction and provides an excellent foundation for further study of Australian operations in New Guinea.
