Your War Stories
I was pinned down behind a tree that was barely the width of my body. Three enemies were bunkered up behind a felled tree in front of me, all of them shooting. I could hear their bullets whizzing inches from my head, and I was getting covered in splatter from the paintballs breaking across the tree. If I moved even an inch, I would be exposed. I was completely helpless. One of my buddies ran up to help, taking cover on my right. He was gunned down in less than a minute. I was trapped behind that tree for what seemed like an eternity. Luckily, one of my teammates (we call him Rambo) flanked the bunker, ran up from behind, and shot all of them in the back. When I looked at the cover I was behind, the tree and surrounding area was completely painted.
I was on a speedball course behind cover, exchanging fire with (of all people) my brother. I look up, and he is charging up the field directly at me. Panicked, I take some shots at him and nailed him in a very sensitive area. He immediately went down and stayed down for several minutes, rolling around in pain. I captured it on my Gun-cam, you can see the paintball hit it's mark.
(I've got plenty of good paintball stories, but I want to keep this short.)
We were playing Ambush: VIP, and I was the VIP (No gun. I die, we loose). The course consisted of trails in the woods which lead to an open field. I had to go through the woods and across the field to a designated endpoint. The first leg was uneventful, we saw no action through the trails. When we reached the tree line, we decided it was best to book it across the field. We ran to the tree line, my bodyguard about ten feet ahead of me. He was the first to break the tree line. As soon as he did, he was shot up the leg and chest from near point blank range by a full auto MP5 and toppled over. As soon as I saw this I tried to do three things at once (thinking Oh Spit!): come to a sudden stop from a full on sprint, change direction, and book it in the opposite direction. Let's just say I face-planted and got shot up on the ground.
I was stalking a guy who was facing me, staying just inside his peripherals (at least ten feet away). I shot him and, knowing the noise would attract others, immediately went prone in my ghillie suit. I was right, his teammate showed up to investigate. I took him out easily. This attracted a third teammate. I waited a good five minutes and, thinking he had gone, stood up to flank him. Turns out I stood up right in front of him and was subsequently lit up like a Christmas tree.
(All these stories may make it sound like I suck at paintball/airsoft, but the most memorable events are often your worst.)
I actually ended up writing an English paper on one of these stories.
A ski mask pulled over his face, Robert steadied his AK-47. The surrounding shadows merged with his dark sweatshirt and jeans. Shifting his weight, he anxiously scanned the path ahead. Both of us were sitting ducks here, he knew it. We had come to a fork in the road, providing us with two options. We could continue down the well-worn dirt path, or divert to a small, overgrown trail.
"Come on." Robert whispered, eying the smaller trail, "Let's go."
The objective was simple; navigate a maze of trails through the woods, cross an open field, and reach an endpoint on the other side. There was just one small problem; I must make it to the endpoint alive. I was the designated V.I.P., forbidden to carry a firearm and it was game over if I died. It was Robert's duty to escort me to the endpoint in one piece.
Robert disappeared into the overgrown trail. Waiting ten seconds, I continued after him. Pushing aside ferns and thorn bushes, Robert and I slowly advanced. We knew it would be safe, they wouldn't expect us to follow this trail. Nonetheless, we kept a wary eye on the trees and bushes ahead. It was unusually hot, and I was beginning to sweat under my stuffy ghillie suit.
The surrounding woods were eerily silent, a calm before the storm. As if on cue, there was a rustle off to our right. Immediately, Robert raised and lowered his palm, swinging his rifle in the direction of the sound. Catching his signal, I crouched low to the ground, adrenaline seeping through my veins. Tense, we waited for the seemingly inevitable. More rustling, this time accompanied by flapping. Robert's finger tightened against the trigger. A form shot out of the bushes, rapidly ascending to the branches above. It is just a bird. Sighing with relief, we rose and continued down the trail.
We arrived at the edge of the woods, beyond which lay a small clearing. A mere one hundred feet separated us from the awaiting endpoint on the other side. One hundred feet of open field, it might as well have been a thousand. Robert and I came to the decision that we run across as fast as possible. We would be completely exposed, our fate placed at the mercy of the clearing.
Drawing a deep breath, Robert sprinted toward the tree line. I followed, maintaining a distance of ten feet. Approaching a full sprint, Robert burst into the clearing. He managed to complete five strides before a sharp rat-tat-tat shattered the silence. Time slowed, Robert cried out in pain and toppled into the tall grass. He had taken several hits up the chest and legs at point blank range. A dark figure rose from the bushes directly ahead, looming above the surrounding flora. I was sprinting, full speed, to my doom. My mind went blank, overridden by three instincts: stop, turn around, and run. I attempted to complete all of these tasks simultaneously: come to a dead stop from a full sprint, turn one hundred and eighty degrees, and run. Momentum sternly disagreed, sending me in an awkward flying flop to the ground. Stunned, I lay on the forest floor at the edge of the woods. Regaining my senses, I felt several bee stings crawl up my back. I was hit, game over.