On the planned date of battle, Dirty and I drove out to the forest meeting spot to meet up with the rest of the stripling warriors. Over one dozen adolescents from the ward youth group showed up for the event, most of them within the same peer cohort as I. There were also few stragglers that attended who were not members of our local church ward. I came to the battlefield wearing several layers of jeans and dark-colored sweatshirts. I tied small bundles of leaves around my arms and legs with pieces of cloth, thereby creating a superficial layer of camouflage. Most of the other teenagers attended the event wearing loose-fitting pants and t-shirts. One individual in particular decided to attend the paintball war wearing nothing but a pair of camouflaged pants, his torso left completely bare.
“Who is this moron?” I asked Dirty in a low tone while motioning to the bare-chested idiot.
“I don’t know,” Dirty replied, “he just showed up with those two guys over there. He thinks he’s some sort army master or something.”
“He just told that National Guard dude that he don’t need any shirt and he refused to wear any goggles too.”
“What a dumb ass,” Dirty stated.
“I say that whatever happens, win or lose, we target that bastard and teach him a lesson. Even if he’s on our own team, let’s paint him up something proper.”
“You got it,” Dirty agreed.
Once everybody was gathered around, the National Guardsman offered a brief safety lesson and encouraged everyone to play fair. We were each given standard, entry-level air rifles and plenty of paintball ammunition. Then, as we were divided up into teams, the National Guardsman explained the rules to us. A paintball hit to the torso region was counted as a kill. The victim of the kill was to immediately surrender by holding his arms into the air and report back to the starting point in silence. We were prohibited from shooting any person surrendering in such fashion and we were also instructed not to purposely target anyone’s head, although a hit to this area also counted as a kill. The winning team would have to take out every other opponent of the rival team before victory would be declared. One team was chosen to go out into the woods while the other was assigned to go look for them, effectively creating a hide and seek scenario.
I was fortunate enough to have Dirty on my team and it was our squad that was first elected to hide out inside the forest. Upon rallying deep into the woods, our squad leader, the National Guardsman, detailed a plan for several of us to create diversions while the main bulk of the squad would flank the incoming team and shoot them down while they were trying to find us hiding. Dirty and I was assigned to an area in the forest near a massive boulder at the base of a mountain. We were to ambush the first wave of the incoming squad near a bench that was part of an adjacent picnic site. Following along with the National Guardsman’s plan, Dirty and I hid for the planned ambush. I climbed atop the massive boulder while Dirty concealed himself inside a thick covering of bushes near the picnic bench.
Several minutes into the campaign, I spotted two members of the rival team come creeping through the woods, straight down the main path toward the picnic area. I waited to see the rest of the enemy squad behind them but could not detect anyone in sight. Determining that the two boys were scouts for the rest of their team, I decided to take them out right away and ask questions later. I stood up upon the top of the massive boulder and rained paintballs down upon the lead scout, instantly dousing his shoulders with spherical rounds. He dropped his weapon and raised his hands in defeat, just as Dirty opened fire on the second enemy. Disappointingly, Dirty missed his target and the kid ran away, returning fire into the bushes and taking cover behind the picnic table. He began to yell for the rest of his squad to assist him.
“Take that bastard out!” I yelled down to Dirty.
“I can’t get him!” Dirty replied, while shooting at the enemy’s location. “He’s behind that damn bench!”
I quickly scaled down the boulder and met up with Dirty in the thicket. The rival team member began pelting our position with paintballs.
“We have to get that son of a bitch,” I said, while ducking into the underbrush away from the incoming paintballs. “His whole fucking team is going to be coming up here in a couple minutes. We’ll be overrun and we have no backup!”
“What should we do then?” Dirty asked. “I can’t reach him from here!”
“Well, if he shoots us first, we’re dead. If we wait too long and his squad shows up, we’re dead. So, the way I look at it, we either take off running or we go in Rambo style. What do you think?”
Dirty thought for a moment and then said, “Rambo style.”
“Alright then,” I agreed. “On the count of three, you take left and I’ll take right. Let’s get him. 1… 2… 3!”
Dirty and I ran out from the concealment of the thick bushes and rushed at our opponent head on. Without firing a shot, the rival Mormon got up from behind the picnic table and sprinted off into the forest undergrowth. We then took cover behind the picnic table on the opposite side of where he was hiding. The enemy soldier repositioned himself and began firing on us once more.
“We’re back to where we started,” Dirty stated, huddling behind the bench.
“Let’s rush him again,” I suggested. “Ready? 1… 2… 3!”
We charged into the fray once more. This time the kid did not move and, instead, attempted to defend his position. Without taking any hits from his weapon, Dirty shot the enemy first, splashing his shoulder and waist area with paint. The kid held up his arms just as I came through the bushes toward him with my air rifle blazing. Three paintballs from my rifle slammed into the opponent, the first striking him in the chest, the second in the neck, and the final projectile bursting open across his forehead. The kid fell down in agony, crying out in pain, struggling to breathe from the impact of the neck shot.
“Dude, you shot him in the face!” Dirty exclaimed, standing over the top of the wounded kid and looking down at his wounds. “I think you got him in the neck too.”
“I guess he can’t yell to his buddies and give away our position then, now can he?” I returned. I leveled my weapon at the kid rolling around in the tall grass and shot him one more time in the back at nearly point blank range. “Are you dead yet?” I asked the sobbing whelp. “You’re supposed to be silent when you’re dead. Now get your ass up and march back to the starting point before I shoot you again.” The kid moaned while trying to stand and, after finally rising to his feet, stumbled back along the path with his hands raised in the air. Moments later, the shouts of the approaching enemy squad could be heard in the near distance.
“Shit, we need to get out of here,” Dirty said.
“Yeah, let’s move!”
Dirty and I darted off through the forest and began running for cover away from where the rest of our squad was positioned. While we were in mid-sprint, we suddenly came across the bare-chested asshole from behind, finding him walking through the forest on a solo patrol that he apparently deemed himself worthy of performing. He was completely alone and had his back turned toward us. Before he could turn to confront Dirty and I, we opened fire on him, shooting the shirtless youth in his bare back multiple times. He turned around with a painful expression on his face in just enough time for Dirty and I to unload another half dozen paintballs against his chest and stomach. The machismo douche bag quickly fell to his knees, holding his midsection in pain. Dirty and I ran past the wounded child without saying a word to him and hid out by a creek that ran along the forest edge.
“Hey, wasn’t that kid on our team?”