Post by me on Nov 29, 2006 3:14:30 GMT -5
To some life is only a game, but those people sometimes forget that in life, unlike games, you only have one life. To die in a game means that you can come back several minutes later and try again, but life so many people have died to find one simple fact. Punishment is always worse then just a wasted minute.
***
He dove under the cover of a branch, and heard the snap as enemy fire followed him. He turned to see the last explosion of dirt and leaves fall to the ground, and to see his friend take the position he had occupied last.
Turning he found a convenient opening in the man made barricade of branches. The barrel of his rifle snuck through the crack, and he tracked a sprinting enemy with the barrel. The distinctive sound of the rifle firing sounded and an explosion of red blew from the side of his targets head.
He had to duck behind his cover again as explosions of leaves and dirt as an enemy tried to sight in on him. He saw his friend rise and lay down a suppressing blanket of fire, and took the opportunity to sprint forward and take cover behind a tree stump. His own rifle then came up to cover everyone else as they advanced to better cover. Several became victims to enemy fire.
He ducked once again, and saw his friend motioning. Two fingers waving towards the enemy positions, and then he raised one hand and flashed all five fingers twice before pumping his fist twice. He quickly translated the hand signals into something more recognizable. “Advance in ten, I’ll cover you,” he nodded and prepared to sprint as fast as he could.
As he reached five, fire rang out from around him, and finally he reached zero. He scrambled forward once again; his rifle up to drop anyone who tried to fire at him. Then things went wrong. The people covering him went down to enemy fire, and they began to advance en masse. He planted his feet and loosed everything he could at the advancing wave of humanity.
In life a mistake can be deadly, and he had just made a mistake. Someone had taken notice of his lack of movement, and decide that he would make a good target. He saw the puff of smoke, and heard the tell-tale sound produced by a rifle, and they say you never hear the one that gets you. That puts one myth to rest.
He saw through his mask the projectile fly at him, and saw the explosion of red. Paint, red paint exploded over his mask. He raised his rifle and shouted “Out,” and ran towards the exit. He finally reached it and turned to look back into “Hamburger Hill.”
His friend came out later, his shirt nothing but a mass of red paint. “They got us good; of course they had the elevation advantage. I mean is that even fair?”
This was nothing but a game, a very realistic game, but a game nonetheless. No one would die from his mistakes.
***
He dove under the cover of a branch, and heard the snap as enemy fire followed him. He turned to see the last explosion of dirt and leaves fall to the ground, and to see his friend take the position he had occupied last.
Turning he found a convenient opening in the man made barricade of branches. The barrel of his rifle snuck through the crack, and he tracked a sprinting enemy with the barrel. The distinctive sound of the rifle firing sounded and an explosion of red blew from the side of his targets head.
He had to duck behind his cover again as explosions of leaves and dirt as an enemy tried to sight in on him. He saw his friend rise and lay down a suppressing blanket of fire, and took the opportunity to sprint forward and take cover behind a tree stump. His own rifle then came up to cover everyone else as they advanced to better cover. Several became victims to enemy fire.
He ducked once again, and saw his friend motioning. Two fingers waving towards the enemy positions, and then he raised one hand and flashed all five fingers twice before pumping his fist twice. He quickly translated the hand signals into something more recognizable. “Advance in ten, I’ll cover you,” he nodded and prepared to sprint as fast as he could.
As he reached five, fire rang out from around him, and finally he reached zero. He scrambled forward once again; his rifle up to drop anyone who tried to fire at him. Then things went wrong. The people covering him went down to enemy fire, and they began to advance en masse. He planted his feet and loosed everything he could at the advancing wave of humanity.
In life a mistake can be deadly, and he had just made a mistake. Someone had taken notice of his lack of movement, and decide that he would make a good target. He saw the puff of smoke, and heard the tell-tale sound produced by a rifle, and they say you never hear the one that gets you. That puts one myth to rest.
He saw through his mask the projectile fly at him, and saw the explosion of red. Paint, red paint exploded over his mask. He raised his rifle and shouted “Out,” and ran towards the exit. He finally reached it and turned to look back into “Hamburger Hill.”
His friend came out later, his shirt nothing but a mass of red paint. “They got us good; of course they had the elevation advantage. I mean is that even fair?”
This was nothing but a game, a very realistic game, but a game nonetheless. No one would die from his mistakes.