Letters from Iwo Jima

MPP Games’ Brothers In Arms Series IV

Iwo Jima: Climb the Mountain

Bearclaw Paintball- Fayetteville, Tennessee

Friday, October 19th

My Dearest Mikko-chan,

The Emperor, in His glorious wisdom, has assigned me to the island of Iwo Jima.  The American Devils will be landing along the beaches in the morning, but we know not yet where.  Why they would want this desolate stretch of sand and hills, I cannot understand…though it is not my place to question the brilliance of our leaders.

General Kdiddy-sama has assigned my squad to the headquarters as reinforcements to rapidly deploy to wherever we are needed in the morning.  Sake is flowing amongst the troops and spirits are high.

There is bad news being whispered amongst the units, however.  These Americans will most likely have heavy armor to support their infantry.  I may die tomorrow, but I will bring honor to you and my homeland.

I have written my death poem.  All that is left is to die gloriously.

-Tree

Saturday, October 20th

My Dearest Mikko-chan,

Today has been a violent series of battles, yet I still live.

Early this morning, the Americans began their assault on the beach.  Artillery from their ships pounded this desolate hellhole of sand…though our bunkered emplacements along the beaches remained unscathed.

The southeastern shores were the target.  With a meager 25-man detachment defending this stretch of oceanside desert, General Kdiddy-sama quickly deployed the rest of our troops on the island to support them.  Whether we arrived in time was yet to be seen.

Americans poured from the landing craft in waves, shooting into the bunkered Japanese troops crouched in the ridgeline of the trees.  As the Devils ran forward to die, I was also running toward the sounds of combat.  My death poem tucked tightly into my uniform over my heart, I plunged through the tranquility of the forest towards the ever-increasing shouts and screams of the battle.

I was assaulted by the sound.  Like a torrent of hail crashing upon the wooden shingles of our home, the sound of the massive confrontation threatened to break my resolve.  No amount of training could have prepared me for the withering firefight that I saw before my eyes.

I clutched my gun tightly, fearful to fire a shot.  Surely if I fired at one of the American Devils on the beach, they would spot me and end my humble life.  To my left and right, others began to fire.  I watched their shots reach through the trees and find their targets.  American soldiers were eliminated in droves.

The death poem’s delicate paper brushed against the flap of my pocket.  Funny how such a small whisper of a sound caught my attention in the deafening exchange of gunfire.  It gave me purpose…I raised my gun and added my own weapon’s voice to the cacophony of noise.

We took casualties.  Not so many as the Americans, but the volume of troops pouring from the landing craft never seemed to stop.  By midday, the Americans had driven us backwards into the trees and established a base of operations off of the beach.  Word of our adversary’s name had filtered through the ranks by now.  The American General, Death By Daddy, was a well-known name to many of us.  It is no wonder the American dogs fought with such determination to secure the beach.

I was continually on the move…probing the American lines along a flank, or forming up with my other squadmates and pushing hard directly at the middle of their lines.  Many times I was wounded.  Many times the brave medics were there to patch me up.

Ah Mikko, I must tell you of the brave woman medic.  I have never seen such fierce determination as what Deb showed today.  Where men were cowering behind cover, she was in the thick of the battle- weaponless and unafraid.  Truly, the Emperor’s daughters may take strength in her dedication to our homeland just as we men did today.  If not for her and the other medics, many more soldiers would have perished…possibly giving the tide of American soldiers an opportunity to sweep through our lines.

Thankfully, this was not the case.  The infantry battle remained heavily in our favor.  The tanks though, were a different story.  Access to anti-tank weaponry seemed very limited.  The Americans sent tanks through our lines as many as two at a time to wreak havoc on our outpost in Suribachi and elsewhere.  I personally witnessed the might of these tanks and fear that they may turn the advantage back towards the Americans’ side.

I had established an ambush position just off the road between the American base and the fortress at Suribachi.  The growling sound of a motor announced the tank’s approach.  I tucked even closer to the ground…attempting to hide my body beneath nothing more than a few fallen leaves and a small sapling.  I watched the tank approach through my peripheral vision…praying that it would not spot me.

Remaining motionless, I used my ears to keep track of the tank’s position once I could no longer see it.  I dared not move my head.  It was so close as to be right on top of me.  I could hear the muttered gibberish of the Americans talking to each other as the tank motored forwards.

The squealing of brakes announced that something was wrong.  The tank had stopped directly beside my hiding spot!  I closed my eyes and waited for the hail of shots to riddle my body.  Seconds passed and I was still alive.  Ever-so-slowly, I tilted my head to the side to see why I was not yet another corpse on the battlefield.

The turret of the tank was not pointed at me, but instead on the fort at Suribachi.  A heartbeat after I had laid eyes on this goliath machine, the hissing report of its main gun drowned out the sound of my heartbeat thundering in my ears.  For what seemed like an eternity, I watched helplessly as the tank systematically destroyed every tower and building within the fort, eliminating many brave Japanese defenders within.

Petrified, I remained still… so still that my muscles had begun to cramp.  A searing pain in my calf assaulted me…not from an enemy shot, but from a charlie-horse of knotted muscle.  Just as the pain became too intense to bear, the tank began to grind forward again, on its way to the next target now that Suribachi had been demolished.  I gritted my teeth and waited for the tank to roll away from my position, and then began to stir…working out the cramp in my leg and hobbling away from the roadside.  I never again got close to the road today…I could not risk my luck in surviving another close encounter such as that.

It is getting dark now, and our orders are to snuff all lights to prevent an American Airstrike from decimating us as it had earlier today.

-Tree

Sunday, October 21st

Mikko-chan,

I no longer fear battle.  I have seen too much of it in the past 48 hours to ever hesitate again.  I had reached the limits of my strength by dusk yesterday, but many brave Japanese soldiers carried on the fight through the night.  Missions were run in almost complete darkness, and short-range firefights broke out sporadically…making many of us in the camp stir in our bedrolls, but yet glad to find a few moments of respite from the battle.

Eventually, even these skirmishes died off in frequency until finally silence ruled the forest.  It was a fitful night of sleep for me…the run-in with the tank haunted my dreams.

I awoke early this morning, the sounds of mess kits clattering as soldiers wolfed down hastily prepared meals.  I began to reload my kit and was amazed that I had burnt through more than 2,000 rounds the day before.  As I was provisioned with more ammunition, I gawked at a fellow soldier who was telling me that he alone had shot more than triple this amount.

In fact, the quartermaster had not been prepared for the sheer ferocity of the battle, and had sent for additional ammunition to be sent to our facility.  Thankfully, it had arrived in time…so no one was short for ammunition.  If yesterday was any indication of things to come, I would again be running low on ammo by the end of the day.

At the HQ, I formed up with my squad and began the march towards the lines we had established the day before.  The morning was humid, and within a few moments my vision was starting to fog up.  I squinted through the poor visibility and pressed on.

Unlike yesterday, I was not in the least bit hesitant to fire my gun.  We pressed straight through the middle of the forest and assaulted the American base, forming a wedge and bisecting their skirmish line.  I took up a position behind a small barrier of fallen logs and loose brush…looking for signs of movement through my fogged vision.

I did not have to wait long…American devils were attempting to re-establish a skirmish line directly across from my position.  My squad and I harried the enemy and eliminated many of them during the firefight.  I was wounded in the arm and fell back to the HQ for treatment.  Not to worry, it was a clean shot and the medics tell me it will heal just fine.  If nothing else, it is minimal enough that they did not relieve me from duty.  Soon after I was patched up, I had orders to return to the battle.

The fates have a twisted sense of humor.  I rejoined my squad and we began fighting along the hill just south of the Suribachi roadway.  Not long after we had found entrenchments to hold the line, the growling of a tank engine approached.  I knew what was coming, and screamed for anti-tank support, but it was nowhere to be found.  With dread clenching my stomach, I saw not one, but two tanks approaching our position.  Again, they stopped along the path directly outside of the walls of Suribachi.  Their turrets were not pointed at the fortress this time…the Americans controlled the fort.  My squadmates and I found what cover we could and waited.

More babbling gibberish and pointing gestures from the tankers, and the two machines began trundling south past our position in the woods.  Another close call, but this time there was no relief.  American troops began pouring out of the Suribachi fort and following the tanks south.  My squadmates and I waited as long as we could, and then opened fire.

We caught many by surprise, but their numbers were too great.  We were sent packing in short order and we rendezvoused at our headquarters to regroup.

Word trickled through the ranks that the Americans were attempting to make a final push to establish a more permanent position on the island.  The next hour of fighting would determine the fate of Japan’s property…the island of Iwo Jima.

Once more refilling our ammunition supply, the Japanese army was assigned to take and hold three strategic points on the island.  With the end of the conflict in sight, we grouped up by squads and hustled towards our objectives.

Resistance was met almost immediately.  By the time my squad approached our objective, it was already in the hands of the Americans.  The forest became our best ally, providing concealment for us to encircle the American position.  At an unspoken signal, we rained fire down upon the group of buildings from the surrounding hillsides.  Japanese and American forces collided in close-quarters fighting as groups of brave soldiers began a room-to-room frenzy of flashing swords and point-blank encounters.

From my hillside perch, I watched us slowly retake the town.  I kept suppressive fire aimed towards the Americans’ line of reinforcement…pinning a few soldiers who were attempting to relieve their beleaguered comrades in the town.  Sweeping through them, the rest of the Japanese force eliminated the last bits of resistance and the town was ours.

Soon after, the battle had ended.  The Americans, having failed to establish a firm foothold further into the island, had given up their beachhead HQ and were loading troops back onto the landing craft in an organized retreat.

Ammunition had run out for many of us, and so we followed Bushido.  One of our XO’s was reported to have taken nine enemy soldiers with his blade before falling to the enemy.

Mikko, I have been given the order to pack my gear.  My service to the Emperor has rewarded me with a trip home before I am once again called on for duty.

I have burnt my death poem…this island has rid me of the need to carry it.  My poem will be forever ingrained in the sands of Iwo Jima.

-Tree

MTP’s 5th Birthday Bash

I recently went to Middle Tennessee Paintball’s 5th Birthday Bash.
And a bashing it was. Pummeled by heat, sun, and humidity…it was challenging just to keep hydrated. The level of sportsmanship and fun though, was on the opposite end of the spectrum. I met many “cool” folks, and had a blast.

Let’s go over some of the highlights, shall we?
Facilities: A great field is defined by the hard work that is put into creating it. MTP is no different than many others in the area. Places like Bearclaw Paintball’s expansive woodsball fields are a tribute to the Scenario Gamer’s dream, but MTP rivals Bearclaw…just on a smaller scale. MTP has two primary woodsball fields. Lovingly known as “big woods” and “small woods” by the local players, it provides a challenging bit of terrain for even newcomers like myself.

Interspersed with the local flora, you’ll find bunkers, barriers, and the usual “deer trails” that provide un-cluttered transportation venues between hot spots. And like most fields, you must be very careful when traversing these trails, lest the evil snipers ambush you.
I’m one of those snipers. What I love about this field is that there are plenty of places where the undergrowth is allowed to grow wild. No bushhogging it down so it resembles a speedball field with trees instead of bunkers. This is reason enough to keep me coming back for more.

Prepping for the day
The day started off well enough. I met up with my teammates of the Nashville Ridgerunners and shot the breeze while we waited for the call to orientation and chronographing. We talked about our markers. We chatted about our mutual interest in playing Battlefield 2 online. We talked about the olden-days (okay, I just listened to the stories…I’m a newbie to paintball and listened in slack-jawed silence while they swapped stories about the original days of the sport).
Once orientation gathering was announced, we kitted up and moseyed to the staging area. Bill (the field owner) gave everyone a run-down of how the event would proceed, and began splitting us into teams.
Lots of people gave me funny looks. Stands to reason, as I was testing out my newest creation…a ghillie suit made from the Special Ops Paintball Action Ghillie material. I’ve earned the nickname “Tree” due to my interests in blending in as much as possible. This event gave me the opportunity to try out my newest creation, and boy did it work.
The first mission was a Beach Landing. My team was slated for defense against the invading army of “Green” ribbons. The object was to get a large canister into the woods, and pound it against a specially marked base to end the game.

Round 1: Defense on Beach Landing
My “Orange” team did a phenominal job of holding off the invaders. They never once made it to the treeline where we crouched, laying down a horrid amount of fire into the Hyperball obstacles that they hid behind. In fact, the scenario seemed rather one-sided. I wasn’t looking forward to switching sides and trying to assault.
When the first round was called, it was a no-brainer. Not only did we dominate on defense, but we managed to capture the barrel…effectively preventing the Greens from having a chance to complete their objective.

A player has the red/yellow objective barrel (middle) and is moving up the field as teammates support him .

Afterwards, we walked back to fill up on air, paint, and lots of water. The first round of the Speedball Ace’s Tournament got under way, so me and the rest of the Ridgerunners cooled off in the shade. We’ve all agreed we’re not cut out for the Speedball scene.
After we’d all gotten a breather, it was time for the next Beach Landing…this time with Orange on the offense. Remembering the slaughter we handed out the first round, I was willing to give it a shot, but wasn’t looking forward to the anticipated number of trips I’d be making back to the respawn point to tag back in.

Round 2: Attack on Beach Landing
We had two divisions…the woodsballers, and speedballers. The speedballers had a nice pack lined up on the left flank, and the smaller contingent of woodsballers took the right flank.

I move up from the starting point…sticking out like a sore thumb in my new ghillie.

Things started out well, and only got better. With the amount of paint flying on the left flank from the speedball contingent, the Greens stacked up to oppose them. Little did they realize that their right flank was suffering. A number of early casualties on the defenders’ side from my team’s own assault up the right side gave us a narrow window to exploit.

Will has a great vault over a barrier captured on film. I’m hunkered down providing covering fire on the far left.

We not only exploited their weakness, we broke completely through. The woodsballers on the right flank made it to the treeline, and quickly piled in to our natural environment. Leaving the foreign territory of the hyperball obstacles in the clearing, our confidence soared as we began melting into the vegetation. We blasted up the tapeline and began to circle around…coming at the enemy forces from their rear.
After about 10 minutes, our barrel-toting hero thumped the objective…ending the game in a total victory.

Next up was another round of the Ace’s Tourney, and another break for the Ridgerunners. We were in high spirits after winning both rounds of the Beach Landing…and Capture the Flag would be coming up next. We began planning our strategy while guzzling down the fluids.

Round 3: Capture the Flag (1)
It was decided that an early flanking maneuver along the tape would be the key to a flag cap. We’d grab whatever fast runners we could find, and proceed as far into the opposing force’s backfield without firing a shot. The larger contingent of speedballers would zip up the middle and take positions in some cover…causing as much racket as possible to make the enemy think that it was our entire force.

It sounded good in theory. It even started out well. Breathless and weary (I’m a smoker, so the dash across the field was really hard on the ‘ole body), I followed the rest of the flanking force into the backfield of the enemy completely unopposed.
Hand signals flashed, and we fanned out…heading towards the flag. It looked like the coast was clear.
A couple brave souls moved up to the flag. As an Orange player reached out for the flag, a Green ambush sniper popped up from out of nowhere and took him out. A hail of fire returned the favor…eliminating the stealthy guy (I admire him…he waited until just the right moment to pop up). Will (a Ridgerunner teammate) ran up to grab the flag. With an hand on the flag, he had it! And then Déjà vu happened. Another sniper popped up and shot poor Will right in the forehead just above the goggles.

We avenged Will’s “death” and finally were able to snag the flag on our third attempt. The element of surprise was gone though. The Greens had heard the exchanges of fire and had begun to pull back to see what was happening. We had just sprinted from one side of the field…and the folks like me who were in no shape to go dashing back the other way decided to “Take one for the team” by staying behind to provide as much distraction as possible.
It worked. With flag in hand, a small group led by Will started picking their way back towards our own side. Not that I was able to keep up with him and the small pocket of defenders running interference for our flag carrier.
Nope…I stayed behind. And just like I’d planned…I took one for the team. Just one. One shot right in the goggles. I congratulated the Green who shot me on such a great shot, and began to make my run back across the field to the respawn point.

Highlight: Psychological Warfare
This is where the art of scenario/woodsball gaming gets really twisted and fun…I arrived at our respawn point, announcing loudly that I was a dead player and not to shoot me. I actually was in the out-of-bounds zone following a deer trail back to our main base. I arrived with a fellow teammate waving at me frantically. I couldn’t figure out what was going on until he pointed at our tag-in point for re-insertion.
A Green player was braced against the stack of barrels, marker leveled right at my chest. I laughed out loud and said “Gee…no point in tagging back in, then, eh?”

The Green player demanded to know where the flag was. In my peripheral vision, I could see our blue bandana flag sitting atop a rusted barrel not 4 feet to the Green player’s right side. It was time for some bluffing.

“I dunno man. I’m guessing that your own team pulled the same move we did…we ran right along the tape and grabbed your flag unopposed. I’m guessing your team probably did the same, so I bet one of your teammates already has the flag.”

“Oh, yeah…probably so.” Was his reply.

“Yeah, you probably ought to move on back to help support your guys.” I said.

“We’ll give you a 10-second head start.” My other “out” teammate chimed in.
“Okay…I’m leaving.” Said the Green player.

Priceless! He walked off back towards the middle of the field…completely oblivious to our own team’s flag being within arm’s reach of him the whole time he had his attention focused on me and my other Orange teammate.
Me and my crafty teammate stared at each other in wonder…not only had we fooled the poor Green player into thinking his team already had our flag, but we’d gotten him to leave our base! We both tagged back into the game (by touching the barrels the Green player had been using as cover), and had a good chuckle after the Green player was out of earshot.

My crafty buddy went back out to hunt some Green, and I decided that I’d better stick around just in case another Green player happened along. I found a nice little spot of concealment and crouched down to wait.

Rounding off the Round
About a minute or two later, I heard stealthy footsteps approaching. I readied my marker and hunkered down a little further to wait for them to expose themselves at the “Undefended” flag of our base.
Two players walked right past me…I could have reached out and touched them.

It was our flag runner and Will…returning safely to officially cap the flag and end the game. Once a ref yelled game over, I stood up from my hiding place and surprised the two guys. My ghillie suit had officially passed judgement. I was able to hide from Will, a vet of woodsball.
With the game over, we walked back to our staging are. By this point, we were all pretty tired. Mikey was beginning to show signs of dehydration, so we made sure he drank extra fluids and had a cool towel on his head. I myself was dragging. That run had really worn me out. An ambush sniper shouldn’t do that much running…but it was for the good of the team. I had done my part by keeping the Greens from being able to pursue our flag runner, then sprinted back for a respawn.
I got to tell my story about fooling the Green player…which drew a great deal of chuckles and congratulations. I felt great at having sprinted back to the respawn point. If I had walked as my body was wanting me to do, that Green player might have been able to eliminate our returning flag capturers.

We started strategy for the next round of Cap the Flag. I think we’d all decided that this wouldn’t work twice in a row. We were all feeling the effects of a full day of running around in 100+ degree heat in a glorious Tennessee summer.

Round 4: Capture the Flag (2)
It was agreed that we’d provide some mid-field defense, and let the speedball portion of our team go for the flag cap. We geared up and moved out. I stuck to the same side of the tape that we’d sprinted down the first time (but moved much slower this time).

The entire field turned into the more traditional skirmish. Both sides met at about mid-field, and neither gained, nor lost much ground. I was wary of how easily we’d run up the tapeline the first game, so I stayed close to it…watching for enemy players who might slip through.

Highlight: I’m still a newbie
I proved I was still a newbie. From my position, I could see and hear two players moving towards me. With their markers up and searching for targets while talking to each other about who was covering what firing lane, I assumed that they were enemies. I waited until they were both completely exposed and quickly took them both out with two well-placed shots at each person.
Needless to say, they were quite surprised to be hit. Especially by what turned out to be a teammate. Oh geez! I’d just eliminated two friendlies!

I apologized for the mix-up. Once they’d figured out they were hit by friendly fire, they were about to wipe and play on. I told them that it was against the rules, and that even though they were eliminated by friendly fire, they’d have to tag back in.

In hindsight, I wish I’d done more for those two guys. I stayed where I was and continued to look for more targets.
What I WISH I had done was walk with them to the respawn point, and then walk back with them to the action…helping them get back into the fight by adding another bit of firepower to help them have some fun. That would have been the more sportsmanlike thing to do. Lesson learned though, and if it ever happens again, I have promised myself to be a better team player. I still feel rotten about that.

A few minutes later, the two guys backtracked from the respawn point, calling out loudly “Sniper dude, we’re coming behind you…we’re friendlies.”
I tried waving at them, but it didn’t work at first…my concealment was just too good until they were right up on me. I waved again, and they finally saw me…exclaiming again at how well-hidden I was. Salvaging a little bit of honor, I moved up with them to the tape line and covered their advance into a copse of wooden spools.

Rounding off the Round
To make a long story short, the last match of the day ended in a draw. Time ran out before either team could make a flag capture. We all headed back to the rally point for final announcements and the grand prize giveaways.

The Day Draws To A Close…with a twist!
My relationship with Lady Luck has never been a good one when it comes to games of chance. I never win at cards, never win drawings, and fear the lottery for similar reasons. Today was a different day. The name of the winner for a brand-new Smart Parts SP8 marker was announced. It took a moment to sink in…they’d just called my name!

Standing up with a murmured exclamation of “Oh Me!” I made my aching legs walk over to Bill & the event crew to receive my prize. I was exhausted, but happily surprised by my luck. I was fortunate to have my photo taken with the rest of the Ridgerunners and my brand-new marker.

From left to right are my fellow Ridgerunners: Will, Mikey, myself, Chip, and Bill…owner of MTP. (Not pictured is R.J. who was also in attendance, but had left early)

Afterwards, we all packed up our gear and started heading home. Hot, Exhausted, and Happy…I drove back home. A great day…and happy 5th Birthday to the MTP field. I’ll be back!

Movement on the woodsball field

I attempted to play woodsball this past weekend.  Went to a new field (for me at least) and met up with a couple of fellow Ridgerunners.

I say attempted because we were the only three who were there for a woods game.  Plenty of speedballers milled around firing off their mouths as fast as their trigger fingers, but it’s mutually agreed upon amongst my teammembers that we’re not Speedballers…so we did a bit of 2-on-1 action.

I’m the newbie on the team, so I have a lot to learn.  It certainly showed.  I got paired up with Will and we hunted down Chip (bait and switch more like…with me being the bait).  I learned some valuable lessons about the importance of movement on a woodsball field.

You either move a lot, or you don’t move at all.  There’s not much room for a middle ground.  My own personal style of play involves the latter.  I like setting an ambush and waiting for an unsuspecting victim.

With 2-on-1 though, it’s hard to sit still for long.  Will plays much more aggressively than I do.  I did my best to keep up with him, but never seemed to be much more than a meatshield/paint magnet.  Generally, I would end up drawing Chip’s fire while Will moved up for the kill.

Will and Chip are both great players.  They are constantly on the move…patrolling the perimeter of the field, doing hit-and-run skirmishes, and rarely if ever stay stationary for more than a handful of heartbeats.

Here I am, dressed up in my custom-ghillied dagger vest and AG Hood, traipsing around like I’m on a densely-foliaged runway.  My mind is screaming at me to find a good perch and wait, but my teammate is telling me to stay close and move as a pair.  I followed Will’s instructions as accurately as I could, but didn’t feel like I was playing “my” game.

Chip pointed out a very important point after we finished up…my ghillie was actually giving me away.  I have a mixture of Action Ghillie material and some “Sneaky Leaf” brand faux foliage zip tied to my hood and vest.  It’s the middle of summer, and yet I had a bunch of yellow and brown faux leaves strewn about my camo.  Chip said that if it weren’t for this very odd mismatch with my surroundings, he might not have noticed me a couple of times.

Basically…It stuck out like a sore thumb in this particular field.
While we were packing up, I took a minute to snip off all of the “dead” leaves while mentally kicking myself for such an idiotic mistake.  In my head, it looked neat and proper (there are dead leaves all over my home field).  On the new field, it looked very out of place.  Lesson learned…no matter how cool it might look, the important part is matching your camo to the surroundings you’ll be playing in…which may change every week.

I didn’t have the most fun I’ve ever had, but I didn’t have a lot of fun in some of my college courses either…and yet I still learned some valuable info that I’ve never forgotten.   This will be the case with this weekend’s excursion.

Paintballing for the First Time

Original Date of writing: April 15, 2007

It was a drizzly day yesterday, but around 2:00 it began to clear up. I called around to a couple of the fields nearby and found one that had a group coming in around 3:00. They said it was no problem for me to show up and play.

I packed my gear and headed out.

The place was way out in the sticks. The directions they gave were flawless though, so I didn’t have a problem finding it.

I was fearful that the group would be a bunch of 12-year olds on a birthday party or somesuch. As I pulled into the parking area, I saw a bunch of people in BDUs…and they were all way too tall to be little kids. Much relief was felt.

I did a brief round of introductions. These were all military guys from the nearby Ft. Campbell army base. Good deal…I can dig that.

Round 1: Woodsball: When you don’t know anything, you can’t make mistakes.
We started with picking teams for the first game…woodsball. We set up, hollered back and forth that we were ready, and started the game. My memory isn’t so great on this first game. I was trying to learn by observing my teammates, but quickly found out that they were almost as wet behind the ears as I was…or at least it seems that way in hindsight.
Picture a Civil War battle being fought in the trees. No attempt at stealth…everyone found a spot of cover and traded shots until they got hit. I was the second person to get tagged out on my team, and they ended up wiping the walls with us.

Lesson learned: Do it yourself…don’t just mimic what the others are doing.

Round 2,3,4: Speedball
A small speedball course was set up to one side of the woodsball field. Everyone wanted to give that a try, so we headed over that way. We played a couple of games fairly quickly. I’ve learned that speedball doesn’t make for a good story. Lots of shots flying, not a lot of things to say besides “I was hugging that barrel like a drunken barfly on an ugly waitress” and the complete lack of satisfaction that I got from it. Speedball just isn’t what I’m cut out for.

The moment of stupidity
I had a noobish moment.
We had eliminated all but one guy who was pinned down behind a barrel and a pallet. I knew he couldn’t see me, so I shifted up to the cover just in front of his position. While my teammates laid down a hail of fire to keep him tucked in, I ran down the boundary and shot him from 10 feet away. I’m not sure what happened…I guess I had a brainfart or something. We’d all agreed to not shoot from point blank and instead yell “Bang! Safety kill” and get ‘em to surrender. This totally slipped my mind in the heat of things and I pegged him once in the arm. I’m sure he’s got a bruise. I apologized profusely and made sure he knew I didn’t do it on purpose.
Thankfully, he was a good sport about it. During our next speedball round, he tagged me in the arm (from a much further distance) and we called ourselves even.

Lesson learned: Even though I’m an admitted non-fan of speedball, I did learn something. I’m a noob…I need to think about the range I’m at before I do something stupid like that.

Round 5: Woodsball: The Art of Cover
We took a break to refill air, hoppers, etc. and had a couple smokes and whatnot.
We decided to go back to playing woodsball.
In the next game, I was a bit more prepared. Another teammate and I hung out way to the left, while the rest were positioned on the right. He and I spent some time hanging back until the other guys engaged. Once we heard them shooting, we began moving up our side.
We both found some great cover and began exchanging shots with two that were facing us. It bogged down with poking out from behind cover, firing off some shots, and ducking back in.
It was just a matter of time…lucky shots tagged both of us out.

Lesson learned: Cover keeps you from being hit as often, but they still know where you are.

Round 6: Woodsball: Confusion and Concealment
With this lesson learned, I started the next game right next to the boundary of the field. With nobody else with me, I knew I could flank without anyone giving away my position by firing too early. I crouch-ran, low-crawled, and used the sound of firing to mask my movements.
I got into a great position and was able to take three enemies down in quick succession because they were too focused on the rest of my team. After getting these three, I had a friendly start shooting at me but was able to wave him off before he got me.
Not seeing any further enemies, I started moving in towards the center of the field…there was one guy left on the enemy side, and three on mine. I saw movement along the opposite edge of the field from where I had begun my flanking, so I began stalking him. I couldn’t tell at this point if it were a friendly or enemy, so I tried to get in close enough to see if I could recognize him.
Well…he popped out from behind a tree and lit my position up. I returned fire and he began running away. I shot him in the buttocks and he yelled and bawled about it. (I found out later that his marker had jammed, which is why he ran away.)
As he walked towards me, we realized a grave error had been made. He was on my team! We both said our “woopses” and I turned 180 degrees to face back into the field.
Again, I saw movement…so I stalked up a bit. We saw each other, but held fire.

Having just pounded one of my teammates in the buttocks (yeah, that’s how we talked about what happened after the game…we had great humor), I was hesitant to light him up. I yelled out “I’m Tripp, who are you?” He yelled something back that I didn’t quite catch. So, I held the barrel of my marker pointing towards the ground and walked right up to him. At 2 feet away, we were still confused. Everyone from this other group tended to look the same because they were all army guys with their BDUs on. I had a realtree patterned t-shirt and a pair of tiger stripe BDU pants on, so I was a bit easier to identify.

He said “I don’t think we’re on the same team.”
I said “Yeah, I don’t think so either, but it’d hurt like hell if we shot each other right now.”
He said “Yeah.”
I said “Let’s just call it even.”

We both walked to the neutral area where the others waited. They asked who got who and got a good laugh out of the mixup.

Lesson learned: Stealth and concealment is far superior to having a good piece of cover but everyone knows where you are.
Secondary lesson: Know thy teammates.

Round 7: Woodsball: Sneakiness is next to Godliness
The final game was another round of woodsball. At this point, our teams were tied up one to one.

By this point, I had gained a reputation for being sneaky. I guess everyone that had been tagged out the last round had swapped stories about how they went down.
I again chose the right flank just along the boundary and another teammate joined me. He said that I should stay hidden and be sneaky, and he’d draw their fire.
It didn’t quite happen that way. I found a great piece of concealment and no sooner did I get settled than I saw an enemy stalking the same area coming from the other direction. If I moved, he’d see me…so I kept still and waited for him to come into range.
My partner must have gotten impatient, because he was nowhere to be found. I held my position and held my fire. Minutes passed and the entire field was silent…no shots fired so far.
I remembered some tips I’d read online about playing effectively…one of which was to avoid having tunnel vision. I mentally marked where my quarry was and did a couple quick scans of the area. I’m glad I did. Another enemy was further forward and a bit closer to the center. He hadn’t seen me, but I had a great angle to take him out.
I held fire though…I had spotted the new threat, but had lost track of the original guy. A mental “oh schnarkeys!” kept me quiet until I could spot him again.

Shots began near the center of the field, and my secondary target began a retreat…moving across my lane of fire towards where I’d lost my original target. Now that I didn’t have to worry about crossfire, I lit him up. He had no idea what happened. Two three-round bursts and he called himself out without knowing exactly where I was.

My shots had flushed out the guy I’d lost track of. He was beginning to flank me just along the edge of the treeline. He made no attempt at stealth…he crashed through the brush trying to get to a position with two large trees forming a tight V to set up a defensive position.

I began moving parallel towards the way he came from and caught him looking the other way. It was close…and having already embarrassed myself with the earlier point-blank shot on the speedball course…I yelled for a safety kill. Well…he decided to chance it and began shooting. I’m not sure how it happened, but he missed. I ran towards the edge of the field, getting an angle on his trees he was using for cover and laying down fire to keep his head down.
I got a lucky shot and he howled in pain as I connected multiple rounds with his wrist, hand, and arm.

Having wiped out the opposition on this side of the field, I began moving deeper into enemy territory. There’s an open trail that cuts right through the field at an imaginary halfway point. Two more enemies were using this trail and a copse of trees and brush for cover…facing towards my team’s “side” of the trail. They had a damn good position…but only against people that were still on my team’s side of the field. I had them outflanked and they didn’t yet know it.
The guy who had his arm torn up was walking down the trail, but was honorable enough to keep silent as he walked towards the neutral area.
I wasn’t sure how long that honor would last, so I tried to hurry in moving up into range.
About the time I had a decent shot, he had moved up to his teammates. I had to wait for him to pass before I could attempt a shot. Again, I admire his honor. He didn’t tell them where I was.

I shot the nearest of the two enemies and he looked over at me in confusion…then recognized my camo (Remember, I was the only one that DIDN’T have a BDU jacket on) and cursed, then raised his hand and started the walk out.
His partner hadn’t seen the shots, but obviously knew something had gone wrong because of the direction the guy had just turned to look at me before calling out.

I snuck up a bit closer…closer than I liked for a shot that wouldn’t hurt too much. Having again hit someone from close range a minute ago, I was worried about causing too much pain…even if the guy deserved it for deciding to shoot instead of surrender.
I yelled for a safety, made sure they saw me, and waited. They didn’t surrender. Matter of fact, they ignored me and went back to trading shots with two other guys on my team.
I was a little confused. Maybe they thought I was on their team…after all, I was behind them.

I yelled again…”Surrender or I shoot you.”
No response…
My two teammates were rushing the last enemy…I was actually further away than they were and they still didn’t have LOS to the enemy player. When they did, it would hurt like hell if they both shot ‘em.
So, I did the humane thing…I shot the last player in the hopes that they’d call themselves out before my other two teammates made it REALLY hurt.

Thankfully, they called out after a burst of three shots and the game was over.

We all walked back and had another round of smoking and trading stories.
I had gained a reputation on my first time playing…”Sneaky Git”

I took it as a complement. I’m not sure why nobody else was doing anything similar. These were army guys, so I guess I expected a bit more than the bounding overwatch that they did. Nobody really went to the lengths that I did to be sneaky.

Lesson learned: Stealth and concealment rock, but don’t be afraid to shoot someone just because you think it’ll hurt. Everyone has different pain tolerances and a guy that yells and bawls from a hit from 20 yards away might just be a sissie.

Wrapping Up
All in all, I had a blast. As we were cleaning gear, one guy asked how long I’d been playing and prefaced it with “You played like you’ve done this before.”
I explained it was my first time and he was surprised at that. I did explain that many moons ago in my days of Boy Scouts, I was a Capture the Flag fanatic. I guess that was a good enough explanation.

We exchanged phone numbers and all headed out.
Good times…good times.

MVP of the day: My kneepads. Hands-down, this is the best investment I’ve made. The ground was wet and squishy, there were fallen limbs and brambles everywhere, and these things gave me the added courage I needed to get down and dirty where others might worry about hurting themselves.
In fact, during Round 5, I was tagged out because I got shot on the kneepad. Suffice to say, it didn’t hurt a bit.

I had bought an el-cheapo set of Rollerblading pads back at Christmas and never really used ‘em. Sooo…about a month ago I broke ‘em out and used some painter’s tape and camo spray paints to tiger-stripe the kneepads to match my pants. I did a little of the same to my mask and hopper as well.
Now that I’ve had my trial by fire, I’ll probably do the set of elbow pads in camo as well. After having gone without them the first time out, I’ve decided that I’m willing to sacrifice a bit of maneuverability and stiffness in order to give me more confidence when low-crawling.

Risk The World- My First Scenario Game

Risk the World was put on by MPP Games at Bearclaw Paintball in Fayetteveille, TN June 1-3

This was my first scenario and I must say, I couldn’t have picked a better one to learn what it’s all about.

–Saturday–

I was invited to play with the Ridge Runners (Playing on the French side) and thoroughly enjoyed the level of sportsmanship that everyone exhibited. We butted heads with the Spartans most of the first day along the northwestern hillside. It was an exhausting skirmish in some difficult terrain. Mario’s boys sure kept us in check, neither side able to gain much ground.

The highlight of my Saturday play was on that cursed hillside. Many of my teammates were being eliminated, so I hunkered down in a patch of brush and prepared an ambush.
The suspense was exhilarating. With no fellow Frenchmen left, I was all alone. I could hear the Spartan players talking and moving forwards towards my position. Suspense leads to some pretty heavy breathing. My mask was so foggy I couldn’t see much of anything…I was working off of hearing and vague shapes.
I laid low and watched two Spartans walk within 5 feet of either side of my position as they gained some ground. They camped out for a moment to survey the terrain and decided to move back and regroup with some reinforcements that were heading their way from the Spartan base.
They moved back…one Spartan moving so close to me that only a single piece of undergrowth kept him from stepping on me.

Having met up with their reinforcements, they began another push forwards. With my goggles so fogged it was turning into droplets of dew on the inside of my lenses, I could barely make out the orange ribbons on two Spartan masks as they headed directly towards my position.

I popped up with my marker raised in their general direction, hollering for all I was worth for them to surrender. It was a gamble that paid off…I wouldn’t have been able to hit the broad side of a barn the way my visibility stood.
I was expecting to return to the respawn point looking like I’d been tie-died in orange and green, but the two fellas showed great class and raised their markers in surrender.
I’d like to give those two guys special honors, as they did not reveal my position to their teammates as they walked off the field…but it was obvious the Spartans now knew I was there.

It wasn’t soon after that more Spartans were heading towards my position, dead-set on flushing me out. It was hero-time, so I popped up, fired a stream of paint on some Spartans I could barely make out at the bottom of the hill (thank you for wearing orange on the backs of your goggles as well!) and was summarily Spartanized once my position became obvious.

Towards the end of the afternoon play, my marker gave up the ghost. “Mitzi,” my Tippmann A-5 had had enough and so I left the field a bit before the dinner break.

I talked to Bob in the Bearclaw shop and he was kind enough to provide me with a rental. Special thanks to Bob and Susie for being so kind!

–Sunday–

On Sunday, we decided that another day of mountain climbing just wasn’t in the cards. The Ridge Runners were tired of running up those steep ridges, so we decided we’d go for an easier target…the Mongols. Boy were we mistaken!

The Mongols gave us one heck of a firefight. My rental marker saw more paint go through it in the span of 20 minutes than I had shot all day Saturday. And then I shot some more!

We had our work cut out for us. Assaulting an enemy base isn’t exactly the easiest thing to do, but a couple of my fellow Frenchmen saw an opportunity to do some damage. Our one rocket launcher-toting hero and another infantryman and I (Sorry, I never did learn your names) picked our way into a dry streambed on the side of the action. We worked our way into a position inside a copse of brush and prepared to make the assault.
With a mere 20 minutes to go before gameplay ended, we knew we had to make this count.

Myself and the other infantryman moved in front and burst out of the brush, guns blazing. Yelling, whooping, and generally making a ruckus, we were able to distract the enemy Mongols long enough for our rocketeer to get a shot off. Kablooey! The base went bye-bye and if rumor is true, we got the general and a small handful of other Mongols who were holed up in the base.

We skirmished with a few other Mongols before they beat us back. By the time we were eliminated, time was just about up. What a way to end the game!

Thanks to all…It was a weekend to remember.

-Tripp (aka “Tree”)

My first visit to Bearclaw Paintball

Bearclaw Paintball is a facility located in Fayetteville, TN.

First, let me say that the day I played was very slow, but very rewarding. Throughout the day, there were rarely more than 6 persons to a side. As I understand it, it is a rare thing to have so few people at Bearclaw.
Of particular note is the fact that 7 Tennessee Titans NFL players were there. It was almost like a private party was being hosted…only that wasn’t the case. Great guys, all…and not being a football enthusiast, I can say that this is based on personality alone, not the view of a goggle-eyed fan.

Right then…on to what will be a more typical experience:

If you’ve never been, here are some things to set your expectations…

If you are a SPEEDBALL player, don’t bother. There are plenty of other courses around that offer speedball on a much more pleasant level for your playstyle. BearClaw does have a speedball field or two, but many of the obstacles pull double-duty as extra bits of cover in and around their woodsball fields during scenario games, so you may be limited to a single course of wooden buildings.
If you are a die-hard Speedball player, you might as well stop reading…the rest of this concerns people who are either woodsball-oriented, or are willing to give it a try.

If you are a WOODSBALL player, a 4-hour drive wouldn’t be a waste just to experience what Bearclaw has to offer. Maybe not every weekend, but at least once. I myself traveled 2 hours and have zero complaints.

First off, there’s the owners & staff. Mr. Robert & Miss Suzie treated me like royalty.
I got a tour of the various areas within the woods (courtesy of a golf cart ride along the varied trails made especially for Scenario Tanks) by Mr. Robert. The way his eyes lit up and the depth of description he used to talk about the history of certain areas (such as the downed airplane and the swimming pool-turned-bunker) let me know that he wasn’t just a business owner…he was a true enthusiast. I got the impression that the fields are never truly “done.” There’s always something more in the works.
Miss Suzie made a huge impression on me. The nicest gal you’ll ever meet. She truly made me feel great about spending my day at Bearclaw even with the small number of players on that particular day.

The rest of the staff ranged in both age and experience…from the first-time “paintball serfs” who were working in order to get playtime, all the way through to more mature (read: older in age, not behavior…we’re all giddy kids when it comes to shooting Nerf rockets from a cannon!) scenario veterans who helped mentor the newer refs. All were knowledgeable and more than willing to facilitate the interests of the players.

Having met the people, let’s go into a bit more detail on the scenery.
Some so-called Woodsball courses are basically nothing more than speedball fields with trees as obstacles with everything else bush-hogged to the dirt. Zero undergrowth, and a fairly cramped field of play.
Not so at Bearclaw! The expansiveness of the wooded area seems incalculable your first time through…it’s as if the field (and buildings, sandbagged bunkers, and other terrain) go on forever. Inbetween these obstacles and pieces of cover is the concealment factor. Yes, there are trails and pathways big enough for a golf cart…but the rest of the area is absolutely covered in undergrowth…great for concealment.

Painstaking effort has been put into not just creating a facade, but a well-bodied field of play.
It’s not a Hollywood set with a singular attraction and nothing behind the scenes. There are buildings, bunkers, and bits of cover everywhere…not just enough to define a particular section as “The Fort” or “The WWII camp.” The focal points of the areas are there, but the surrounding areas all have something to offer players who don’t want to get bottlenecked into one particular area of the field.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was overdue for some chow. I grabbed a Chicken Finger special from their concessions and couldn’t handle the amount of food I got for my money. I think even the voracious appetites of the NFL players were satisfied.

Facilities were great…covered areas to sit in the shade and eat, plenty of outdoor seating, showers & toilets…not Porta-Potties…real toilets (and two designated especially for ladies), and a Pro Shop with merchandise, cold drinks, etc.

Field paint is required. Anywhere from 45 to 55 bucks for a case of Procaps (Either X-Ball or Draxxus). I have come to realize that there are many people who will go on forever griping about the cost of the “field paint only” sorts of places and frankly, I don’t understand. Why complain?
It’s a fact that in order to play paintball, you will spend money. Everyone knows the price ranges for a case of decent paint, so what’s the problem? It’s not like they’re selling Brass Eagle crap at inflated prices. It’s actually worth feeding into your hopper.

If you can’t afford to buy the paint at the field, don’t bother showing up. Would you go to a video arcade with no money and expect to enjoy yourself?  More realistically these days, would you bring your PSP to an arcade just to get in a game? Would you decide to take a cross-country road trip and not budget for gasoline?

Paintball isn’t the cheapest sport out there. Not by a longshot. Most of the time though, you get what you pay for. Bearclaw was a great investment of both my time and money.

Thanks for the great experience Bearclaw…I’ll be seeing you again real soon.

Regards,

Tripp aka “Tree”