We had been marching in combat formation behind the firing range for twenty

Minutes, so we had grown accustomed to the sound of rifle fire, but the sound of a

Round hitting the bank beside me was not a welcome noise.

            The time between the sound of the second crack and acopmneing thud and the

 Corporals’ shout of “cover on the left ******* move” could have been measured in nano

Seconds. I managed to unstuck my feet from the treacle that the ground had turned

Into and run to a small, Long hump of earth. There were five of us behind it and to

Our right and left the other twenty five people of our platoon dove jumped and ran

Behind any available cover.

            I couldn’t comprehend what was happening, I means who the **** was firing

At us, is this corporal heatons idea of a joke? Some unofficial live fire indoctrination,

Cos i am ****** if i am going to hide from that small arsed prick. I am sick of his twisted

Little “moral boosting team exercises “which he announces in his sadistic little voice

Standing there like some sort of Napoleonic figure, but if he was napoleon then it would

Be more a case of Joseph than Josephine and it would be every night. Horrid little

Bastard that he is.

            The tremor of fear in the commands to “stay down” tell more than the

Command it. This is for real; we are being fired upon in our own country not two

Miles from our barracks. In a half remberance of past lectures I try to locate the

“Enemy”, that is what this person is to me. They opened fire on me and my 

Friends unannounced and in a perfect ambush position, this stinks. No one can see

Any sign of anybody or anything, no shape, shadow, shine, siouloitte or any other

Sibilant that was shoehorned into our heads in the “why thing are seen” lecture. We

Either have an exceptional sniper hunting us or there is something else going on here.

We are carrying weapons, a rifle a piece. Only the corporals’ have live ammunition so

That meant sixty rounds for thirty men and women to defend themselves from an

Unknown force with unknown numbers. The idea therefore of a sniper is not only

Bowl churning but also as an acceptable excuse as any for adult incontanceas one could

Find. Snipers are scary! They may only be able to fire single shots but it is usually a

Case of “one shot one kill” one advantage that we have is that our rifles fire nine

Hundred rounds a minute, so we could go through our sixty rounds in under ten

Seconds, for this to be even a consideration we would have to know where the ******

Is. Which we don’t! Our only other advantage is our numbers, we could try to overrun

His position with the old reliable “up the middle with smoke” and try and kick the

Living **** out of him. The mortality rate of this type of manoeuvre is fifty percent

Friendly casualties and unless there is an officer present then the enemy doesn’t stand a

Chance. Officers like prisoners, not a major concern for someone who has just lost

Half his friends though!

            There hasn’t been any effective fire for five minutes now, but we can’t take a

Chance so two people are chosen for the hundred meter dash. This involves getting

Two or more people who are a fair distance apart to stand up and exchange places. The

Idea is to draw the enemy’s fire and make him give away his position. This wonderful

And pension able job is generally given to the least liked people on patrol. The

Realisation that my name wasn’t called gave me a mini moral boost. I am not exactly

Going to be voted homecoming queen and not due to my lack of breasts either, so I

Could be minutes from death but **** it i am smiling.  

Right so it’s not a sniper this is something else. No sniper would pass up the chance to

Shoot the fat **** that the prick of a corporal chose to run. The idea of a ricochet

Doesn’t wash because of the second round and there is a sound difference. There is a

Slight droning sound to a ricochet, that reminds me of a wasp. The two have a lot in

Common, unpredictable and painful if stung in the wrong place. That leaves the

Ranges, to understand why this is not our first thought needs a description of the

Ground. We are behind the twenty foot hills called the butts which are there to catch

Rounds from the firing range. We had also moved a quarter mile to the right of range

One, the only range being used today, we checked. The only way someone on the

Firing range could have even put rounds in our direction is to turn at least seventy five

Degrees to the right away from his target. Knowing this we figure that some one in

Charge has given the idiotic offender a good clout around the ear hole and sent him

Running for the day. It seems safe to stand up and move out, but no just as we are

Forming back up on the road a third round hits the earth beside us. What in flying

Fuckballs is going on?

            So its back into cover we run and hope for the best , the corporals’ are on the phone , we hadn’t brought radios because we weren’t going far and “sure **** it what could happen!” as Heaton had said when asked whither or not we were bringing them. 

The information that it is the F.C.A on the range causes both anger and amusement in the platoon. I turned to Steve my buddy and said “they are really living up to there name aren’t they?”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“Fuckers Cant Aim” I say to great amusement of one and all cowering in fear behind

The earth bank. We all hate the F.C.A, they think there great because once a year they

Put on there combats and go hiking in the woods. I would rather be a boy scout than

In the F.C.A is the usual response to seeing a male member. Female members of this

Waste of space organisation gets a much more friendly approach. Most men like seeing

The F.C.A come on camp in there barracks because it means there will be young and

Impressionable women hanging around looking for a soldier to ****, and we weren’t

Going to let them down even if it meant having to pretend to be a soldier for a while. 

            So there we were hiding from weekend warriors with bad aim and having a

Good laugh at there expense, and what does Heaton do? Gives me ******* pushups

for Making a joke of the situation   and cheering people up. What kind of man gives

Someone pushups to do in the middle of being fired upon? A major idiot with no

sense Of humour that’s who. By the time I finished the push ups all firing had ceased

and We could move out but I swore that day that if I ever got the chance I would fire

on The F.C.A “jokingly” of course and **** that prick right up. That thought kept me

Going for a long time

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Posted by tarhead 2008-02-21 01:44:25 i'm a little confused your first story seems to be the exact opposite of this one... + Report this comment

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