force_quit
08-16-2005, 12:55
I saw this blog post today and thought others might be interested.
http://thunder6.typepad.com/365_arabian_nights/2005/08/range_day.html
Range Day
The M4 carbine is a lethal tool, but in the end it is just that… a tool. The situation profoundly changes when that tool is placed in the hands of a trained infantryman. It is as if the two exist in some martial symbiosis; each taking, each giving. When an infantryman picks up a rifle those carefully machined components stop being callous collections of metal and become the fluid extension of his will. The catalyst for this hybridization isn’t some technological marvel – it’s the natural result of trigger time.
When I say trigger time I’m not referring to pressing a button on a video console. Comparing first person shooting games to combat marksmanship is like comparing a ride on the plastic pony in front of a supermarket with saddling up a thoroughbred. If you want to be deadly accurate there is no substitute for being on a range.
This of course means that even here in Baghdad we have to set up firing ranges to hone our marksmanship skills. Today I was tasked with serving as the OIC (Officer In Charge) of the firing range while Killer Company’s platoons confirmed their optics. Under most circumstances I would jump at the chance to spend a day on the range; but today wasn't just hot, it was infernal. The sun flared like with star gone nova, the heat compunded by our thick layers of body armor. By time the range was ready to go I was well on my way to being parboiled. As the trapped pools of sweat started soaking through my uniform all I wanted was to get away from the crushing heat. Since that wasn’t a viable option I just focused on watching platoon after platoon fire their weapon. Out of sheer curiosity I pulled out a small backpacking thermometer to index the misery. The little thermometer made it to 122 degrees before the heat burned out the LCD.
When it gets this hot you have to drink water in great heaving swallows even when you don’t feel thirsty. If you are drinking too much, too fast you will know in less then a minute - the only thing more uncomfortable then wrapping yourself in an armored sauna is the bloated feeling that comes from having water slosh around your distended stomach. As the hours ticked by I emptied bottle after bottle and watched as a slow parade of troops confirmed their accuracy. Despite the sun’s bright tirade the day passed without incident and the range came to a successful conclusion. It wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t fun, but in the end every troop on came away knowing that their weapons were once again dutiful agents of their will. And that knowledge is a very valuable thing indeed.
http://thunder6.typepad.com/365_arabian_nights/2005/08/range_day.html
Range Day
The M4 carbine is a lethal tool, but in the end it is just that… a tool. The situation profoundly changes when that tool is placed in the hands of a trained infantryman. It is as if the two exist in some martial symbiosis; each taking, each giving. When an infantryman picks up a rifle those carefully machined components stop being callous collections of metal and become the fluid extension of his will. The catalyst for this hybridization isn’t some technological marvel – it’s the natural result of trigger time.
When I say trigger time I’m not referring to pressing a button on a video console. Comparing first person shooting games to combat marksmanship is like comparing a ride on the plastic pony in front of a supermarket with saddling up a thoroughbred. If you want to be deadly accurate there is no substitute for being on a range.
This of course means that even here in Baghdad we have to set up firing ranges to hone our marksmanship skills. Today I was tasked with serving as the OIC (Officer In Charge) of the firing range while Killer Company’s platoons confirmed their optics. Under most circumstances I would jump at the chance to spend a day on the range; but today wasn't just hot, it was infernal. The sun flared like with star gone nova, the heat compunded by our thick layers of body armor. By time the range was ready to go I was well on my way to being parboiled. As the trapped pools of sweat started soaking through my uniform all I wanted was to get away from the crushing heat. Since that wasn’t a viable option I just focused on watching platoon after platoon fire their weapon. Out of sheer curiosity I pulled out a small backpacking thermometer to index the misery. The little thermometer made it to 122 degrees before the heat burned out the LCD.
When it gets this hot you have to drink water in great heaving swallows even when you don’t feel thirsty. If you are drinking too much, too fast you will know in less then a minute - the only thing more uncomfortable then wrapping yourself in an armored sauna is the bloated feeling that comes from having water slosh around your distended stomach. As the hours ticked by I emptied bottle after bottle and watched as a slow parade of troops confirmed their accuracy. Despite the sun’s bright tirade the day passed without incident and the range came to a successful conclusion. It wasn’t pretty, and it wasn’t fun, but in the end every troop on came away knowing that their weapons were once again dutiful agents of their will. And that knowledge is a very valuable thing indeed.
