Tales of Great Airsoft

Bringing this over from a thread on VAF. I'll start it off; the point isn't to regale everyone with tales of how you killed over 9,000 people, but more to share tales of fun, comedy, or game-changing for you. These are your favorite airsoft moments, the stories you tell to everyone.

I have two that I'll share here. One helped change the way I view airsoft, and one helped change the way I play airsoft, both for the better.


The first involves one of our first Vietnam Airsoft games, up at Lanexa. I believe it was the original Silent Sunset, but don't quote me on that. The NVA had kind of been rolling the guys playing USGI all day, most of whom were new to the ideas behind Namsoft and the tactics being used. So it was decided we would give the US a chance to execute an ambush, and see what happened. I was part of the 3-man cell tasked with walking down the road into what was supposed to be an ambush zone, with the rest of the NVA team remaining behind and attacking the US after the ambush. It was dusk, and very hard for us to see much of anything aside from the road we were walking on. Our only bit of advice was "Fall to the right"...little did we know how crucial that would be. Ken had point, I was back to the left, and Shadow had the right side. After about a minute's worth of walking, I see Ken look off to the right, so I look left...and found myself staring directly into the little silver disk in the center of an Escort claymore. About that time, Tom, the leader of the USGI, lit off all 3 claymores in the string they had. "Fall to the right" became "Get BLASTED to the right" as the force legit forcefully encouraged us. I took at least 35 BB's to the chest and just keeled over. About that time, Patches opened up on his M60 and just laced the road. All I remember is curling into a ball and waiting for it to end. The US spoke of the "film-like" atmosphere as the NVA walked into the ambush, and that was an experience I loved being a part of, even if I was on the receiving end.


My second story involves a day of pickup games at Afton. It was the first game I went to after receiving my A&K SR25 (at that point still painted plain Olive Drab!) and Ronin was gracious enough to loan my a 4x ACOG for an optic. Art and Max happened to be in attendance as well, and it was decided that they would operate as the moving squad with their two SFW's, while Ronin and I in radio contact with them would settle into a recon position with my ranged rifle and his SFW in case !@&% hit the fan. We set up on one of the ridgelines next to the path bordering the fence, behind some downed trees. After about 10 minutes, we received radio calls of "Danger close!" and heard intermittent fire and were told to bug out down the hill. Just after the radio call, members of the other team started moving towards us in groups of one or two at a time. Using the magnification of the ACOG and semi-auto, I managed to hold off all comers until game was called. I fell in love with that gun, and have been hooked on DMR ever since.

On the other side of Slice's story, something about getting rolled by the NVA somehow makes the experiance as a US grunt. Seems like the most memorable part of Liberty Canyon III this last summer was peacefully eating lunch behind a downed tree with the rest of the infantry platoon. There was an occasional sniper bullet or two, but LT Tom even told us it was a good time to eat (not that I'm blaming him or anything lol). I dug into my can of hash as fire started intensifying. They told us the Aussie guys were headed our way from our right and to check our fire. We heard a firefight in the thick in front of, which started moving left. The fire on us intensified a bit; I should have taken that as a hint. Then we started hearing fire from our rear. Guys around me all started getting hit. Within minutes, the platoon was close to being wiped out. I remember El Tee telling us to get out. There was a split second when I looked at the other marines in my squad and wondered if I should stay true to the whole Marine "never leave a man behind" thing. But I grabbed my rifle and hightailed it out of there. All my gear, my mags, my open can of hash with my spoon still sticking out of it stayed behind for the NVA. I had one half empty mag in my '14; that's all. The 5 or so of us that got out of there pulled a weak fighting retreat before making it back to the village and setting up a rudimentary defense. None of us had more than a mag or two left. We hydrated and hoped for the best. I volunteered to run back to camp and exchange my M14 for my pig so we'd have some fighting chance if we got hit. I did, but by the time I returned, the SEAL team was already on its way in to retake our former position. The deuce and a half came and picked up what was left of us in the village. And surviving felt like a substancial victory.