It was naughty of me not to mention The Belin Rule back in turn 10 when the Major arrived. Because Battlefront doesn’t allow scenario designers to give units traits like “glory hunter” and “complete wazzock” I’ve had to invent my own house rule for Belin. Every turn since #10 I’ve been quietly rolling a six-sided dice. This turn, for the first time, I rolled a 1 meaning the Comment Commanders’ highest ranking unit ignores assigned orders and does what he damn well pleases. “What he damn well pleases” invariably means bee-lining for the enemy with a Luger in his hand…

This turn is the costliest yet for the Britishers. A short time after I lose an irreplaceable sixty minutes to British Summer Time, the glider riders defending Brinkmann’s Bridge lose an irreplaceable half-dozen men to an assortment of kill kit that includes a 10.5cm howitzer, an MG 42, an MP 40, and a scoped Karabiner 98K.

During this minute of WeGo action a mortar team is decimated, two men fall foul of the same handgun, an anti-tankist uses the F word, and I marvel at CMx2’s glorious unpredictability.

Erich Woikin is eleven again, sprinting through an orchard with a satchel of scrumped cherries bumping against his sweat-soaked back and a baying hound snapping at his heels. He’s a few strides from the spot in the barbed wire fence where the broken strand makes for easy vaulting when something grabs his satchel straps, pulling him off his feet. “How odd” he thinks to himself as he struggles unsuccessfully to get up “that I should fall on my back yet wind up with so much cherry juice staining my shirt front. How very odd.”