JUNE  -  PAINTBALLING

SITTINGBOURNE - Just by the golf club, since you ask

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We haven't done PAINTBALLING for years.  This venue was near Sittingbourne golf course so nice and convenient and it evened up the meeting locations a bit.  We played four arena based games (so in a small area where running does not matter, no traipsing about in the woods, no huffing and puffing - that means it was suitable for EVERYONE). 

 

It may have been suitable for everyone - but did everyone turn up.  No they didn't.  Only 14 brave men took to the field of battle.  10 men were AWOL, and boy did they have stream of excuses.  It was probably the same sick, lame and chicken bunch that ducked out of GO-APE a 100 years ago.  "They don't like it up them Captain Mannering!!"  That was true of our malingerers.  Excuses ranged from funerals, bad shoulders, excused boots, too f'ing fat, too old, dog ate me homework.............  

 

The 14 BRAVE SOLDIERS that did take part (hereafter forever known as the fantastic fourteen) were on parade for 17.00, got briefed, got kitted up, loaded up 1000 rounds (much smaller paint pellets than the old days, still hurt but hardly broke the skin - which to be fair was a nice improvement) and set off into the hot blue yonder to do battle.  And battle it was.  No strategy, no tactics, just run around like headless chickens firing thousands of rounds into the air, the grass, nearby huts and our own men.  Everyone (including the two professional soldiers among us) had forgotten that the simple rule is 'fire and movement'  Pin one bastard down with two guns while the third member of the team goes right/left flanking.  In the end the black team, who initially went two down, got the hang of it and destroyed the red team, bring the score to even stevens. 

 

The usual problem was that nobody could recognise anyone else in our zombie masks.  Only the magazine of your gun gave your team identity as in red/black, and the sun was low in the sky so you couldn't bloody see anyway.  Despite these hazards almost everybody got shot, rubbed off the paint, everyone lied, everyone cheated, and we all had a ball.  Paintball.

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After four battles it was decided we should face our WATERLOO.

This was a final game where the two teams lined up in extended line, faced each other across a 30 meter divide - AND FIRED EVERY SINGLE REMAINING ROUND THEY HAD.

There is a video - but to be honest it is more disturbing and brutal than the opening 20 minutes of 'Saving Private Ryan'.  Total mayhem, round after round pouring into the lines of men.

Lions led by Donkeys!  Such a waste - of paintballs.

No matter.  Once we had shot our bolts we retired to join the sick, lame and lazy who had already broken into the NAAFI supplies and were busy drinking OUR spoils.

That didn't go down well with the regulars, the old sweats (and old and sweaty we certainly were).  Wankers, who were they to sit among us conquering heroes?

No matter as the hard men were first in line for Flo's Fish and Chips from the chuck wagon, great grub and lots of it, washed down with lots of hot sweet tea (or beer or wine).  Book them on www.flosfryer.co.uk

Great day as always.  Lovely weather, great company and excellent hosts.

Next is motor racing!!!!!!!!!!!!  Better than WATERLOO shown below.  Such a waste of so many old lives.

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