17.10.2011 ~ Teddybears' picnic

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Rain is running down my visor, adding to the condensation, low fog and growing frustration. Visibility sucks. Objects past 20 meters are blurred shapes, everything after that is lost in an amorphous empty grey punctuated by hints of tree trunks. Goddamn fog of war!

Strapped to my right thigh is a colt .45, a single spare magazine accompanies it. It's an accurate 100 year old pistol, but its effective range is short. It supplements a more capable tool. In my hands lies a H&K G-36k; a sleek, black, folding stock carbine assault rifle. 4 magazines accompany it; a whole lotta rounds! In this situation, every measure of combat persistence can only pay off, can't it?

If you go out in the woods today

We're skirmishing. Two teams of two. One poised on defense, the other solely on attack. Their goal is to take our position. To achieve their aim my team needs to be dead. Or stricken during respawn. Our goal is to prevent their goal. Cover and our weapons will assist, but time and its resulting excessive ammunition expenditure are immediate concerns. But the rules of engagement mean choice and broad initiative are against me. At least on paper.

The opposing force begins to move towards me. Tony wields a P-90, a short ergonomic submachine gun with a quick reflex sight. A relatively inaccurate weapon whose shortcomings are compensated by a large magazine and ease of reload. If used correctly it would be a suitable base of fire weapon, especially with the current environmental factors.

Paul accompanies Tony. He brandishes the finest weapons in this battle space. Tucked away ready for use is a massive Desert Eagle handgun, a device whose accuracy and range give rifles a run for their money. Cradled to his chest is a short barrel M-4 rifle, a carbine capable of accurately firing a massive 900rnds a minute, under which is slung a 40mm grenade launcher.

You're sure of a big surprise

But I'm not alone! To my right, out of sight, is Pete. He's armed with another G-36k with a SIG 226 pistol as auxiliary. He's literally knee deep in cover, a wet moss covered hand-laid stone wall conceals him, a timeless remnant of some long forgotten turf feud. Our plan is straightforward; let the aggressors get within arms length of their goal while I draw fire, then Pete can engage them well off their engagement axis. This should result in easy kills!

But no plan survives first contact. The expected bounding/overwatch advance never materialised, the attackers instead choosing to attempt a sweeping pincer movement. Paul advances vertically, slugging uphill straight towards the objective, hugging the mosey wall to his left. Tony takes a wide arch to his right, bouncing from tree to tree. I struggle to follow their advance through my obfuscated goggles; they're mere shapes augmenting the shadows of trees. It's hard not to I bounce my gun sights from target to target counting down the seconds before they enter my engagement radius. I estimate they're close enough when Tony fires...

Pellets bounce off the tree trunk in front of me as I draw a bead on Paul. He's behind cover but partially exposed, but a shoulder is more than enough, and I pull the trigger. My gun barks and Paul's shape disappears. Tony's burst has finished as I angle sights on him. My trigger finger relaxes after a second's burst. But something is wrong. The noise the gun makes on firing just isn't right...

I swap magazine and issue a long burst. Heads go down and a short reciprocal burst is flung my way, but the sense of unease about my weapon grows. I slide in a third magazine, aim for the tree a meter away and pull the trigger. Nothing. I've a gun that won't shoot!

Paul & Tony have pulled back to reload their weapons as I try to share this new piece of information with my team mate. A whisper: "Pete...". Nothing. Louder... "PETE!". Nada. Good move on his behalf; he's not supposed to break cover for anything. Bad news for the team--this is something he needs to know. I can retreat and loop around the wall, but odds are that'll expose him and foil our gambit. No... I'll hold tight. I pull my .45 from my holster and chamber a round. Like everything else, it's cold and wet. My pistol hates the cold. This just keeps getting worse and worse...

You better go in disguise

Paul and Tony break cover and start to advance. I hold fire until they're close enough to reach out and touch. If only my rifle worked! I wait briefly, then pull the trigger regardless. Heads go down and some pellets spray back my way. I'm largely impotent, but still considered a deterrent. Good! If I can keep them worried we can hold this position longer. I fire off a long 'burst', heads stay down. Better! But the plan requires they 'overrun' us. I sling the rifle and draw my pistol and send a double tap in Tony's direction. With luck they will take this gesture as an indication of weakness; empty magazines, a poor firing position, a lack of testicular fortitude; doesn't matter. All I want is for them to smell blood and rush for the kill. And they do! Both aggressors take the bait and advance. Time to move!

I break cover and peg towards a break in the mosey wall, counting down from an arbitrary 8 seconds. I hear weapon reports behind me. Four... three... pellets are striking the tree in front of me... two ... fuckit, "NOOOOWWWWW!"

Pete 'goes loud'. I've no idea where he was directing the gunfire but everyone drops back into cover. I round a corner and drop in beside him as he swaps an empty for a full magazine. "I've a problem...!". Pete's 'Da-fuck' facial expression is the perfect response. We begin the process of swapping magazines for a pistol when Paul makes his presence felt. I draw my .45 and work my way down and to my right towards him as Pete gets some trigger time towards an unseen target.

For every bear that ever there was

Pellets ding off the mosey wall in front of me as I edge down towards Paul. I check the slide-safety on my pistol and note it's cold and wet. Not good. Doubts grow as to whether it'll even fire. Time to find out. I bob my head up and see Paul perched by a tree about twelve meters away. I attempt to put a bead on target when he fires his '203 at me...

In airsoft an M-203 grenade launcher behaves just like a real-steel shotgun. On firing Paul has sent 64 BBs in a massive spread towards me at speed. Somehow he misses, his barrage sailing over me. But damn that was impressive! I attempt to engage but he's obscured by a massive cloud of smoke. I keep low; he still has me seriously outgunned.

Pete continues to fire above me, we haven't suffered a causality yet. But neither have they. I bob up again as Paul breaks cover and fire two shots in his direction. One strikes and I hear an "OW MY HEART". Not quiet the Idiocracy quote, but close enough for my purpose. Paul moves to respawn and I move up to support Pete, only to learn he's scored a kill too. We finish the magazine / pistol swap and I move out again, my .45 holstered in an attempt to warm it, a sig 226 in hand. Tony is already rushing back into the field.

I raise my broken rifle and fire off a burst. He ducks and dodges into cover. Good, they haven't discovered my handicap yet. I squeeze some more lies his way and sprint back towards the wall. Let's get him in close where I can actually do some damage. Tony obliges, bounding from tree to tree until he walks into the sights of my .226. Two rounds spin his way when the slide locks and the magazine vents all gas. Both BBs bounce harmlessly off a tree trunk and Tony responds in kind.

I retire the .226 to my drop-pouch and redraw my .45. It's freezing! My odds are dropping by the second. I drop mag and place it with the .226, drawing a fresh one, and slam it home. Tony has drawn his glock and is attempting to plink me. The glock has a burst fire capability and is much more suitable to cold combat; in fact I'm pretty sure it prefers the cold! Two rounds his direction act as brief discouragement as I begin to trade ground for time. I look back to Pete, who is firing down range in the opposite direction. This is going to be close...

Pellets ricochet off my cover. Staccato bursts of fake gunfire no longer yield panicked ducks, albeit the pistol still gets their attention. I estimate about two rounds left, assuming the cold allows the gun to function and the rounds actually leave the barrel. I take a deep breath and prepare for a blaze of glory. Glory and virgins await. With luck, a whole two rounds worth...

"Wait a sec". It's Tony. His pistol is failing to fire and he wants to call truce for repair. Man if I knew you could just do that! I join him and quickly surmise the pistol is a write-off (the fire-selector is missing). I address everyone...

Today's the day... we'll just call this a beta!

And a test-run it was labelled! A cold, malfunction laden beta, but a beta nevertheless. Our wet party re-band and begin to walk down the muddy incline. Pete and I had held our ground, won! And we'd be gracious, mostly. That said I couldn't help but nudge Tony and ask "My rifle... you know it wasn't working right...?"

Edit: I'm told Paul didn't say "Ow my heart" when double tapped. In the chest. On the heart. I remain dubious! :)

Tags: 11, airsoft, amusing, games, guns, war, weapon.

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