My friend and frere de l'autre mere Josh surprised me a few weeks back by suggesting we try and get into Cold War microarmor. In the twilight of my declining years, this suggestion elicited roughly the same amount of elation that a highly specific and wholly indecent proposal from a fetching young woman might have caused me in my later teens. The folly of youth! I had no idea back then that they even made miniatures smaller than 28mm. What a naif I was.
I was, at any rate, surprised, not only because Josh lives a solid eighty miles away from me, somewhere in the barren wastelands of western Illinois (I live in the very northern suburbs of Chicago, about equidistant between it and Racine), but also because he'd recently become a father, and my mental picture of fatherhood is sort of a hellish nightmare world of perpetual screaming, punctuated intermittently by filthy diapers or expensive doctor visits. But I certainly wasn't going to ask him to stay his hand.
After some sleuthing, we decided to settle upon A Fistful of TOWs 3 for our rules. I would have loved to go one miniature equating to one vehicle, like in, say, Mein Panzer, which I've long owned and never played, but they still haven't quite made it into the Cold War era yet. Anyhow, based on my perusal of the sample rules, and with the promise of easy-resolution artillery (I cut my miniatures wargaming teeth on Battletech, where the artillery rules are rather nightmarish), we decided to pull the trigger.
Picking forces was easier than picking rules; I always play British, as I feel an immense, inexplicable, and (to any actual Briton, I'm certain) profoundly annoying fondness for just about everything and anything hailing from the UK. Josh, of course, had already opted to go Soviet.
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