Eye of the Storm

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“At last,” Opperheimer said. “Live fire training!”

They weren’t firing the mortars, yet. They had to get qualified on their individual weapons, first.

The company had managed to cut two days off their training schedule so they had the range to themselves. They’d spent the previous afternoon zeroing their weapons on a short range inside the base defenses. Nobody wanted to wander out to the ranges, feral territory, unarmed. And you couldn’t hit shit until you zeroed. Each of the troops was issued a basic load for the movement to the range and given a security sector. Any Posleen feral bursting out of the trees lining the right of way would have been in for a hot reception. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on the mood of the individual troops, the Posleen had failed to surface.

Cadre, who had already qualified in their munificent spare time, manned guard posts as the troops carefully cleared their weapons on the firing line. The range had thirty firing points and a mass of pop-ups, ranging from static to moving. For the initial training, Keren figured they’d only use the static.

“Okay, yardbirds,” First Sergeant Wacleva said from the safety of the range tower. “We’re gonna start this a bit different. Since you’re all trained troopers, we’re just going to let you have at your sectors. The first thirty personnel take their positions. I will then engage the pop-up system. You will then engage for the period of engagement. Firers take your positions.”

The First Sergeant waited for the first thirty personnel to get into position then keyed the announcement system.

“Firers, lock and load one five hundred round magazine. Ready on the left? The left is ready. Ready on the right? The right is ready. The range is hot. Engaging pop-up system.”

Keren snuggled the butt of the weapon into his shoulder, leaned forward against the sandbags, flipped to full auto and started servicing targets. They started with static pop-ups and he carefully engaged the closest first, working back then moving ones popped up, close, distant. Plastic was flying everywhere. He was in the zone when the magazine started to beep at him.

“Low ammo,” a female voice chimed. “Low ammo… ”

He looked at the counter in shock and could not believe he’d just burned through four hundred and sixty some odd rounds. He wished he’d had one of these in the War.

“Cease Fire! Clear all weapons. Is the right clear? The Right is clear. Is the left clear? The Left is clear. Note your ammunition usage and fall back from the range.”

“Did anyone use less than two hundred rounds?” Wacleva asked the gathered firers. “No? Three hundred? One hand. What happened?”

“Jam, First Sergeant,” a bush bunny from Third said grinning. “Got it cleared, though.”

“Glad you did,” the First Sergeant said, mildly. “How many burned through their whole magazine?”

Most of the hands went up.

“Good for you you FUCKING IDIOTS!” Wacleva screamed. “When we fought the Posleen the only way to stop them was to hose them down like water. WE ARE NO LONGER FIGHTING THE POSLEEN. The fucking Hedren are smart! They may flank us, they may cut off our supply lines. We can’t be sure of supply, anyway, given that we’re going to be on another planet. If there is ONE THING I am going to teach you know-it-all IDIOTS it is a little thing called FIRE CONTROL! Now go get some spare pop-ups since the ones on the fucking range are now SHREDDED!”

“And that’s why they call it goood training,” Adams said as they headed to the storage shed.