Post by Zorak on Apr 14, 2013 13:14:39 GMT -5
I mostly suck at this sport, but every once in a while, everything lines up just right.
At one of the Safari Strike games near Cleveland, OH, our squad was detailed to act as a security force for a captured enemy SAM battery. We spread out to create a perimeter and hold until relieved. The battery was deep in a thicket, almost impossible to spot until you were within arm's reach of it, and we widened our perimeter to take full advantage. We hoped that anyone who broke through would have to stumble around looking, which would give us time to reinforce.
I set up my SAW in a small depression around a large bush. Due to some compression problems I was only shooting about 200fps, but since I could only see for fifteen feet in front of me, I figured I was fine. I had a full box mag, great concealment, and decent cover. What more can a boy ask for?
I should have asked for a thicker perimeter. I heard sporadic firing behind me, and then a lot of shooting, and then silence. I guess that it was 60-40 that the guys on the other side of the site had been overrun. I looked around to see what accommodation I could make to that new danger, but it wasn't promising. I had dug in facing roughly toward the enemy respawn; if I pivoted to face toward the fire I'd just heard, I've have my back to a very likely route for hostile advance. I snuggled up to the bush a little more, pivoted a few degrees to get a little more ability to engage the direction from which I'd heard firing, and pulled out my Mk23 pistol and attached the silencer. My plan was simple: If attacked from ahead by a single player, use the pistol. If it was a group, rock and roll. If attacked from behind, hope that concealment and luck would save my ass.
When it finally happened, it happened slow. The brush rustled. I heard people moving behind me. In all that foliage, I had trouble guessing their distance, but I knew that if I tried to pivot the extra 140 or so degrees to face them, I'd probably jostle the bush enough to give my position away. The sounds came from over my right shoulder, so I found the most comfortable way to look in that direction, and got the Mk23 ready in my left hand. I don't shoot well lefty, but shooting right-handed at that angle would have required me to have extra joints.
The first hostile came into view about ninety seconds later, though it felt like ninety minutes. He looked competent but he was searching for a SAM site, not for people. He held his weapon low, his gaze at shoulder level, his head on a swivel. I let him take a couple more steps, letting the target develop, then fired once and hit him center of mass.
To his credit, he handled it exactly right. He threw up his hands, donned his dead rag, and called "hit," but made no effort to indicate his location or the threat. He just sat down to wait for a medic.
One of his buddies had heard the "hit" call and came in. He clearly understood the danger, because I could see his head moving left, right, up, down, while his weapon stayed just below his sight line. He was stepping very slowly, minimizing his noise signature. He had skill but hadn't learned, from playing against sneaky bastards like Munin and Jacko, that you never hunt a hidden adversary solo.
I didn't want to rely utterly on my concealment but I knew I wasn't going to get more than two shots off before he sprayed down my entire bush, so I schooled myself to patience. He came toward me on the bias, denying me the perfect center torso shot I wanted. It flashed through my head that maybe I could wait and he'd walk on by. Bad idea. In my absurd stance, firing left handed over my right shoulder, I had no hope of victory if he got all the way behind me and then engaged. It was go time and I took the shot.
A TM Mk23 with the silencer attached makes almost no noise, and the confused look on his face as the BB bounced off his arm almost made me laugh. I saw the usual play of emotions running over his face - disbelief that he'd been shot like that, wondering whether it really counted, and realizing that he had to call himself out. He didn't cheat. He donned his dead rag and sat down next to his buddy.
"Dude, did we just get killed by friendly fire?"
"I don't think so. We'd have seen. I think there's a US guy across the clearing with a sniper rifle."
"Crap."
They made conversation for a few minutes while I focused on breathing very, very quietly.
After five minutes, they went to respawn, per event rules. Since I hadn't heard anyone else, friend or foe, I decided I'd regroup as well. The objective was overrun or not; either way, one guy twenty yards out wasn't going to win the game for us. Their expressions as I stood up and walked past them had me grinning all the way back to base.
At one of the Safari Strike games near Cleveland, OH, our squad was detailed to act as a security force for a captured enemy SAM battery. We spread out to create a perimeter and hold until relieved. The battery was deep in a thicket, almost impossible to spot until you were within arm's reach of it, and we widened our perimeter to take full advantage. We hoped that anyone who broke through would have to stumble around looking, which would give us time to reinforce.
I set up my SAW in a small depression around a large bush. Due to some compression problems I was only shooting about 200fps, but since I could only see for fifteen feet in front of me, I figured I was fine. I had a full box mag, great concealment, and decent cover. What more can a boy ask for?
I should have asked for a thicker perimeter. I heard sporadic firing behind me, and then a lot of shooting, and then silence. I guess that it was 60-40 that the guys on the other side of the site had been overrun. I looked around to see what accommodation I could make to that new danger, but it wasn't promising. I had dug in facing roughly toward the enemy respawn; if I pivoted to face toward the fire I'd just heard, I've have my back to a very likely route for hostile advance. I snuggled up to the bush a little more, pivoted a few degrees to get a little more ability to engage the direction from which I'd heard firing, and pulled out my Mk23 pistol and attached the silencer. My plan was simple: If attacked from ahead by a single player, use the pistol. If it was a group, rock and roll. If attacked from behind, hope that concealment and luck would save my ass.
When it finally happened, it happened slow. The brush rustled. I heard people moving behind me. In all that foliage, I had trouble guessing their distance, but I knew that if I tried to pivot the extra 140 or so degrees to face them, I'd probably jostle the bush enough to give my position away. The sounds came from over my right shoulder, so I found the most comfortable way to look in that direction, and got the Mk23 ready in my left hand. I don't shoot well lefty, but shooting right-handed at that angle would have required me to have extra joints.
The first hostile came into view about ninety seconds later, though it felt like ninety minutes. He looked competent but he was searching for a SAM site, not for people. He held his weapon low, his gaze at shoulder level, his head on a swivel. I let him take a couple more steps, letting the target develop, then fired once and hit him center of mass.
To his credit, he handled it exactly right. He threw up his hands, donned his dead rag, and called "hit," but made no effort to indicate his location or the threat. He just sat down to wait for a medic.
One of his buddies had heard the "hit" call and came in. He clearly understood the danger, because I could see his head moving left, right, up, down, while his weapon stayed just below his sight line. He was stepping very slowly, minimizing his noise signature. He had skill but hadn't learned, from playing against sneaky bastards like Munin and Jacko, that you never hunt a hidden adversary solo.
I didn't want to rely utterly on my concealment but I knew I wasn't going to get more than two shots off before he sprayed down my entire bush, so I schooled myself to patience. He came toward me on the bias, denying me the perfect center torso shot I wanted. It flashed through my head that maybe I could wait and he'd walk on by. Bad idea. In my absurd stance, firing left handed over my right shoulder, I had no hope of victory if he got all the way behind me and then engaged. It was go time and I took the shot.
A TM Mk23 with the silencer attached makes almost no noise, and the confused look on his face as the BB bounced off his arm almost made me laugh. I saw the usual play of emotions running over his face - disbelief that he'd been shot like that, wondering whether it really counted, and realizing that he had to call himself out. He didn't cheat. He donned his dead rag and sat down next to his buddy.
"Dude, did we just get killed by friendly fire?"
"I don't think so. We'd have seen. I think there's a US guy across the clearing with a sniper rifle."
"Crap."
They made conversation for a few minutes while I focused on breathing very, very quietly.
After five minutes, they went to respawn, per event rules. Since I hadn't heard anyone else, friend or foe, I decided I'd regroup as well. The objective was overrun or not; either way, one guy twenty yards out wasn't going to win the game for us. Their expressions as I stood up and walked past them had me grinning all the way back to base.
