The Steyr 100/200 Cabrio was a small, relatively fast (100km/h) car built by the Austrian manufacturer Steyr-Daimler-Puch AG from 1934 to 1940. I don’t know much about cars (most of my knowledge comes from Top Gear), so I can’t pretend I am an expert; this review focuses on the quality of the kit itself. The car looked gorgeous, so there’s that.
The model is very small; the chassis and the undercarriage/seat come as individual pieces. Once you clean them off, they snap together; the fit is so good you don’t even need to use glue. The model is quite simple to assemble as the number of parts is small; we get four wheels, two alternate parts for the canvas top (one erected, one folded), and that’s pretty much it. There is a casting error on the folding canvas top; generally the quality of resin is good. The chassis has some really fine engraved lines depicting doors, panels, etc. The windscreen frame, the steering wheel and the stick for the manual transmission come as PE parts; you will need fine tweezers to handle them. The driver’s rear view mirror is missing; probably because it would be a very tiny part indeed. There are no clear parts provided, but in this scale I would not use them anyway. (Difficult to make realistic 1/72nd scale glass panels.) Due to the small scale the leaf spring suspension is not depicted, either; it would be hidden in any case.
The only issue I could find was the Steyr text on the radiator grilles; since the letters are only slightly raised details (and they are quite soft) it will be difficult to paint them well. Perhaps undercoating the grilles with silver and using a heavy black wash might be a solution. I’m not sure what the alternative would have been though; I think it would be equally difficult to deal with a tiny PE part instead.
The whole assembly including cutting the parts off the pouring block and cleaning them up took about an hour.
The painting was, well, not easy. I can’t replicate the polished-up look of luxury cars, that’s for sure. I was thinking about carefully polishing it with some polishing compound, but was worried about rubbing the paint off.
The interior was black with the leather seat and instrument panel painted in different shades of brown.
The white base coat was followed by the deep red color. I’ve used some brown in the scarlet Citadel paint, and carefully applied it with a brush. It took several layers to get a relatively even coverage, but it’s still not perfect. I thought about airbrushing but masking would have been a nightmare. The car would definitely benefit from some deeper panel lines even if it’s out of scale. (It’s always a compromise, isn’t it? A lot of the time small details need to be overemphasised so they are actually visible on a model.)
The whole thing got a gloss coat for protection. I’ve tried some black washes, but the details are way too delicate; I did not want to risk the wash over flood the white paint.
All in all the model was a breeze to build, and a bit difficult to paint. It’s a pretty cool little project for a weekend.
The Treaty of Versailles forbade Hungary to possess or to develop armored vehicles after the First World War. Only in the ‘30s did the rearmament start in earnest, later than in most European countries. Some unsuccessful experiments led to the realization that a completely independent domestic tank research and development program would be prohibitively expensive. After some evaluation the government bought the license of the Swedish Landswerk AB L-60 in 1939, and started to manufacture a modified version under the name of 38.M Toldi I, or Toldi A20. (Miklos Toldi was a legendary nobleman and warrior in the 14th century.) The main modification was in the armament: the main gun was changed to the Hungarian-produced 2cm Solothurn anti-tank rifle, and an 8mm Gebauer machine gun. The first order was for 80 vehicles, produced by both the MAVAG and GANZ companies. In 1940 the Toldi received new, stronger torsion springs, and was renamed to Toldi II. 110 such vehicles were ordered. The first combat experience in Yugoslavia during the ’41 campaign highlighted how inadequate the main armament was, so 80 of the Toldi II variants were rebuilt with a 4cm gun, and had their frontal and turret armor increased to 35 mm. Even with these improvements the tank was hopelessly outclassed on the Eastern front by the T-34 and the KV-1, but due to its speed and good radio equipment it was put to good use as a reconnaissance vehicle.
Since the two models (Toldi I & II) are very similar, it made sense to review the two kits in one.
What you get is a sturdy box with the parts packaged in three plastic bags, cushioned with some packing peanuts, and a very basic instruction sheet. The artwork is really nice, though a bit inaccurate in the case of Toldi II: the frontal armor depicted is identical to the Toldi I. It was, in fact, slightly different, which is correctly reproduced in the actual kit.
The instructions are a weak point of the kit: some basic steps are shown, but the locations of many parts have to be figured out using external references. The instructions are the same for both kit (they are for the Toldi I version), but since the difference is really not that big, it’s not a problem as far as the two versions go.
Both kits come with about 45 resin parts and a small PE fret. Although you get a toolbox for both versions, it should only be used with the Toldi II variant (at least according to the sources I have). There are minor differences in the frontal hull detail (most examples of Toldi II had increased frontal armor), but these are molded on, so you don’t have to worry about them. The different gun is of course, quite self-explanatory. I found a curious feature on the Toldi I turret: even though it uses a circular antenna, it also has the mount for the whip-type antenna. First I thought it was left on by mistake since the two kits use almost the same turret; but then I took a second look at the scale drawings in Magyar Steel, and I found the mount there as well. There’s a small PE fret included, which is quite thick and hard to handle. The detail on the road wheels is a bit soft. The tracks are supplied as one, preformed piece, and have nice, crisp detail, with a fair amount of flash. The kit supplies two kinds of PE lampguards: sheet metal and a wire frame. The wire frame was mostly used on the Toldi I, while the sheet metal was on the Toldi II, but as a third option one can just leave them off completely. Most of the archive photos show the tanks without them anyway, or without lamps, for that matter. (Probably a result of the missing lampguards…)
One of the prominent features of these early tanks was the rivets. The rivets on these kits are quite nice, though a bit oversized (in this scale they should give a good definition once pained).
I ordered the Bison Decals set for Hungarian tanks, which has a very comprehensive range of markings for all sort of vehicles that were in service in the Hungarian Armed Forces.
I built both kits parallel, because the relatively few parts make for a quick build. Only the turret has a huge plug that needs to be removed; the rest of the resin parts were designed to be easily cleaned up. The fit is generally good, although the locator pins on the sides of the hull do not align with the holes of the side panels, which carry the suspension. It’s best simply to cut them off, and align the parts by eye. The lower hull and the road wheels go on without a problem. (There’s a fair amount of cleaning involved with the wheels.) The tracks were a bit difficult for me to handle, but with a bit of foresight most of the problems can be avoided easily. Great care needs to be taken when removing them from the casting blocks, as they are quite delicate, and snap easily. The real pain came when I tried to install them with the idlers already glued into place. In retrospect it’s better to glue only the inside half of road wheels onto place, add the track, and then add the idler, the return rollers, and only then the outside half of the road wheels. I could have avoided a whole lot of suffering had I realized this in time… this is when foresight comes into play.
I glued the grille for the engine in place (a bit of a hassle, but was easier after I trimmed the locators on the PE parts). The big aerial for the Toldi I version was installed with the help of some green stuff. A word of warning: since the 2cm gun for the Toldi I is extremely delicate and fragile, only install it as the last step. I didn’t, so I had to use a replacement barrel. (A 2cm flak barrel from a ModellTrans kit –not exactly the same, but close enough in this scale.) After this the turret was put into place, the small bits attached (equipment and whatnot), and the tanks were ready for painting. The Toldi I was finished in the early-war three tone camo, while the Toldi II received an overall green paintjob -by that time people realized they’d need to blend in, so the flamboyant colors went out of fashion.
Some light brown filters helped to tone down the colors a bit (although it’s still quite high to my taste in the Toldi I.)
Pigments were applied dry, and fixed with some matte varnish to simulate dust/mud. As usual I used a pencil on the edges to give some metallic shine to the vehicles, and I was done.
The 39.M Csaba was the standard armored scout car used by the Royal Hungarian Army during WWII. Some 39.M’s were used by the police force as well, but the main users of the vehicle were the reconnaissance units of the Army.
The Peace Treaties after WWI prohibited Hungary to possess any type of armored vehicles. This was the reason that the design and development of such vehicles only started in the ’30s. The story of the 39.M started with an automotive engineer, Miklos Straussler, and the Weisz Manfred Factory in Budapest. Straussler was an expat, who moved to England in the interwar period, and designed amphibious and off-road vehicles. Probably his most known designs were the flotation system for the DD tanks used by Allied forces during the war and the Alvis Straussler Bomb Trolley. He set up collaboration with the Weisz Manfred factory to produce armored cars and other designs for his home country.
The first armored car prototype –named AC1- was built in 1932 by Weisz using Straussler’s plans. This was followed by the AC2 in 1935. They enjoyed a modest export success, as the British Army ordered 53 AC2 chasses from Weisz Manfred. The engine, weapons, transmission and armor was supplied by the freshly formed joint Alvis-Straussler company in England. The “39.M Csaba felderito pancelkocsi” (reconnaissance armored car, named after the son of Attila the Hun) was developed from the AC2 in Hungary. It was a modern design and a very successful vehicle. The sloped body was riveted using 9mm armor plates. The powerplant was an 8 cylinder German-made Ford engine which gave it a maximum speed of 65 km/hrs. The transmission had 5 gears in both forward and reverse. All four wheels were driven, and the car had two driving positions as in most contemporary designs. It had an excellent off-road performance, but the complex driving arrangement made maintenance difficult, and due to the fuel capacity the range was somewhat limited (150km). It was armed with a 20mm 36M cannon and a 34/37A M 8mm MG in a rotating turret, giving it a respectable firepower. All vehicles were supplied with an R-4T radio, and had a crew of 3 (gunner, driver, radio operator/driver).
After the successful trials in 1939 the Army ordered 41 vehicles first, which was followed by subsequent orders. Altogether 135 39.Ms were built of which 30 was a special command version, the 40.M Csaba. This vehicle had extra R/4 and R/5 radios and a large pneumatic lattice radio mast installed, while the armament was removed.
The Csaba was used throughout the war; unfortunately no example survived.
The model comes in the usual Hunor box: sturdy, flat cardboard (it found a new life as a toolbox). The box art is a very nice picture of the vehicle; it mistakenly says 39M (should say 40M, the command version). The parts are in ziplock bags, protected by packing peanuts. There are only 20 resin parts, a small and delicate photoetched fret, and the decal sheet produced by HAD. (My review sample did not contain the decals, so I used the Bison Decals offering of Hungarian tanks; it offers a number of options for most armored vehicles used by the Hungarian Army; in fact I was hard pressed to decide which one I want to use.)
The instructions are quite basic. Most of the time it is not a problem as the model is easy to assemble, but there are some areas where references will come invaluable. The pneumatic arms raising the radio mast, and the lifting hooks on the body need to be made by the modeler, and not much reference is given.
The parts are molded in cream colored resin; the pouring blocks are smartly placed, and easy to remove (with the exception of the turret where you have to saw through the whole base, which is not a design flaw, but a necessity of the molding process). The quality of the resin is very good: I did not find any casting imperfections. The model measures up to scale drawings nicely; the rivets and the armored panels are at the right place, and more importantly, right size. (In small scale models rivets tend to be exaggerated, giving the models a very characteristic Warhammer 40k look.) The included PE fret carries the radio mast and a few small parts for the model. It is very fine and delicate; care must be taken not to break the metal.
The construction is quite straightforward and simple; it took me about two hours total. As I mentioned the only part I was worried about was the fabrication of the pneumatic arms, but it was surprisingly easy to make them from Evergreen plastics. I used slow drying superglue to fix the radio mast and the arms, which gave me time enough to position them correctly. The lifting hooks I made are a bit oversized and placed too close to the arms –they should be a bit further up.
The camouflage I chose was a pre and early-war three-color one with big, colorful markings from Bison. I used a paintbrush, as I still had no access to my airbrush when I built this vehicle. (Later in the war a much more subdued overall green or gray color was adopted; perhaps later I’ll build a 39.M in those colors.) Weathering was done using pigments mostly.
All in all, it’s a cool little model, and the antenna makes it look very unique.
The Magyar Steel, Modell & Makett kulonszam, online photos and the-blueprints.com website.