OPERATION FLASHPOINT
After Action Report19 – March – 2006
As usual, (due to the field being 2 ½ hours away from my house, ARGH) the day started out early. 04:15, and the alarm was blaring – it was promptly snoozed until 04:30. I got up, got showered, dressed, packed the cooler and threw everything into the back of the Jeep. First stop, COFFEE.
QuickCheck is always an interesting place, moreso at 5:30 AM in full Battle Dress Uniform. You wouldn’t believe the wacko’s that are in QuickCheck at 5:30am on a Sunday morning buying coffee, I mean any normal person should be asleep. I suppose any normal person wouldn’t be driving 2 ½ hours to go play paintball either, so maybe I should consider myself as one of those wackos.
Next stop…Manhattan. I’ll admit, driving though the Lincoln Tunnel in a Jeep fully loaded with paintball gear, just asking for it to be confiscated is not my idea of a fun way to start the day. I did however, have to cross through the city and I might as well pick up The Litigator on my way. After meeting Nate around 6:30, we headed out to Long Island. A quick stop off the expressway in Commack doubled the amount of gear in the back, and added Sgt. Tomahawk to the personnel. The last stop, (as usual) was D&D off the LIE for more coffee and breakfast along with the equally important last plumbed toilet until after the game.
We got to High Velocity a little before 8am, and as luck would have it that was earlier than Lt Lipitor (boy was he pissed, it sounded as if he was going to have a coronary on the phone). Unfortunately our banner wasn’t delivered in time; regardless of how many times Dave called and was reassured it would be. Dave and Rob had brandy new markers to shoot, and Aaron had a new barrel. Nate borrowed some gear from us, and Todd showed up a few minutes later. By 8:30, we were all present, accounted for and setting up our markers to go chronograph.
Finally, a game without a trench start. I really never liked those, and thankfully, today we didn’t have to do it. We started with each team in their respective corners, and made a mad dash off the start for the trenches and surrounding bits of field. Not a whole lot different, but much better than the alternative, at least this way I had a little maneuver room off the break. The start looked pretty good, our reds ran in fast and hard, guns blazing. Immediately we were pelted by heavy artillery. Those crazy blues had brought a grenade launcher, and they certainly wasted no time getting it ready for use. We fought hard, and I began to think even with only a handful of experienced players, we may still have a fighting chance today. If you read any of the smack talk on the High Velocity web forums, you would know no one really expected the Reds to do very well. Of course no one but us Reds!
I was pretty quickly proven wrong. We ran into the rear woods, and we must have been faster than those cursed Blues, ‘cause we raised the flag. Unfortunately, like most flags this fateful Sunday, it didn’t last very long. Pretty quickly, it was turned to Blue, and we fought like dogs to change it back. What happened to our orders? Oh, we received them alright, and every one was justified and true. The trouble was, in the face of danger the less experienced ducked when they should have advanced. They retreated when they should have held their ground. They held their ground when they should have conducted a fighting retreat.
We bravely fought back onslaught after onslaught of the hated Blues. Even as we did, we lost ground. Slowly, our lines began to falter, and Reds were falling victim to the despicable Blues by droves. Within the first hour and a half, our flags were turned from red to blue, and they just kept coming. The Blues were relentless that day, and it was quickly going from a defeat to a massacre. I distinctly remember thinking this day’s theme should be renamed from Operation Flashpoint to the Battle at Wounded Knee
What next? What else was there to do? To steal a quote from the famed Battlestar Galactica, “We will do what we always do: Continue to fight until we aren’t left to fight anymore.” And that’s exactly what we did. We were going to lose this one, and we all knew it, but damn it there certainly was no good reason to make it easier for them. Some may say with the amount of preparation the Blues had, we lost it before we even walked on the field. Those crazy fools even brought an A5 Double Trouble. I didn’t see it on the field, I’m pretty sure I felt it, and I know I was pinned down by it on more than one occasion.
We fought hard that day, but the Blues were better organized, better prepared, and communicated better. We have won days, and we have lost days. I feel we learn more and improve faster when we lose, and there was going to be no shortage of learning this particular Sunday. This ill-fated day, we didn’t just lose - we got hammered into submission. Not once, but twice the Red insertion had to be swapped because it was over run with blues, and impossible for Reds to get back on the playing field.
And that folks . . . well that was just the morning. The afternoon was even worse for us loyal Reds. It was like we were in the middle of sci-fi fantasy novel and those Blues were demon spawn, spewing out of the gates of the nine Hells. It truly showed the difference between inexperienced and experienced players. Many of the former had packed up gone home, thoroughly defeated in mind and body. The latter were still on the field, sorely outnumbered and out played – but fighting just the same. We proud, we few, we Loaded Crows (and a handful of other experienced players **special thanks to IDF, and the Red leadership: Nexter and Jim to name just a few of them), we were still fighting alongside our Red brethren. We were losing, but we were going to have a damn good time doing it. One can make the argument that any day you’re out on a field slinging paint is a good day, and just because we were losing didn’t mean we were going to have a lousy time.
Towards the end of the day, we had a couple of major marker malfunctions. One of the brandy new Indian Creek Design’s markers just stopped working. I wasn’t too close to it, but it appeared that it was no longer holding enough pressure to cock the bolt before venting gas out the LPR. Our team air smith worked on it tirelessly, to no avail. After 20 minutes of tinkering, the command decision to call it KIA was made. I un-holstered my WSP, and Dave unbuckled his G1+. We handed them both to Rob along with a few 10 round tubes, 12 gram cartridges, and the words “good luck” on our lips. Sgt Tomahawk dropped his ICD and took the field, Lara Croft style. It was spectacular, truly the stuff of legends. He had another couple of kills, and in true Crow spirit had a great time refusing to allow a mere marker malfunction get him down. He eventually was goggled. When asked how, the official response was he forgot which pistol was empty and pulled the wrong trigger . . . I seriously doubt he’ll ever forget to count his shots again.
The second mishap was at the end of the day, alas, it was a bit more detrimental. The pictures are of the inside of a Teardrop barrel off of the borrowed A5, which the Litigator had been carrying all day. We are pretty certain he took a sand bath with it to get so very much crap on the inside of the barrel. It wasn’t just the barrel though. The A5 receiver was so clogged, the bolt refused to even move. Luckily this wasn’t until the very last few minutes of the day, so as not to impede his own fearless playing style.
Those who have read these After Action Reports of mine in the past will notice far less battlefield commentary than usual. There were many reasons, the most important being the Red team lost. As much as I talked about how much more one learns and how much more productive it is, no one ever really prefers losing. Don’t fret too much, our prides are still intact – no one can accuse the LC’s of being quitters. Thanks for reading, and next time I’ll be able to say:
“Veni, Vidi, Vici” - Julius Caesar
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