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A long, long time ago when the airforce still flew helicopters, and 9SQN ruled the skies, three intrepid gunnies limped back into camp somewhere in Shoalwater bay with a broken truck. As we had been playing separate war games to the rest of the squadron all the good positions on the perimeter of the were taken, you know fox holes and bunkers, so we were directed to park in the middle of the camp and camouflage the truck. They had already worked out the various rosters for pickets etc, so we just made ourselves comfortable. The back of the truck was rigged with black out curtains and this made a perfect spot to drink the large bottle of Bundy we had won at a raffle just before the exercise.

Sometime during the night, long after we had passed out, the inevitable incursion began and those ever alert sentries went into action with the usual Bang! Halt! Who goes there. This was all that was needed for three well tanked gunnies to go into action. Flower grabbed his trusty M60, me with my SLR and Christo he just lay in his sleeping bag. Flower fed the first belt of 100 rds (blank ammo) into the M60 and let rip. Under the cam netting it was like the 4th of July, firecracker night and New Years Eve all rolled into one. Firing at 760 rpm the muzzle flashes made everything appear to be in slow motion, somewhere near the end of the first belt of ammo the WOD could be heard running through the bushes like a herd of buffaloes yelling Gunnies! Fucking Gunnies!

Flower obviously didn’t hear this because he calmly changed belts and started firing of another 100rds. I heard it alright and fell off the back of the truck laughing and Christo well he just pulled his sleeping bag over his head. Half way through the second belt the WOD ran into the cam net which, being securely anchored to the ground, had a certain amount of flexibility and stretch in it. So in came the WOD to within about arms reach of Flower then the stretch went twang and back went the WOD, only this time faster than when he came in. Flying backwards through the night and then a big thud as he landed on his back, all went quiet apart from the groans of a very winded WOD.

At about this time Flower gained a sense of situational awareness and decided to practice escape and evasion techniques. He grabbed the barrel with one hand and turned the release lever with the other. Now any gun that’s had a couple of hundred rounds punched through very quickly is bound to be hot and this barrel was almost glowing. With a piercing scream the barrel went one way and Flower the other.

In the morning as we were paraded before the Sengo and Flower with his hand bandaged, we got the bad news, the rest of the squadron were moving camp and because our truck had a busted clutch they were leaving us behind. One week all alone in Shoalwater Bay with very little Bundy left. What a cruel punishment!

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