About halfway through our tour of the German front lines, the USS New Jersey picked the worst possible moment to stall out. During a turnaround, the rear of the bus had no doors, and was pointed right at the entire treeline and they really let us have it. Morale, which was already a little unsteady, had now taken a real dip. You can see some players trying to find shelter in the back and I dragged one of them behind me. The whole thing sounded like rocks being shaken in a tin can, as an incredible amount of fire was tearing into the bus.
Eventually, the driver literally got his ass in gear and after a quick extremities check, we noticed that the incoming fire seemed to slacken. Perhaps the dirty Hun thought we'd had enough. Maybe they'd thought the retreating bus was a grand metaphor for the limits of American diplomatic policy...or some crap. We rolled to the other side, screamed our defiance to the treeline, and started blasting away.
The German lines, obviously thrilled, poured even more fire at us as we moved back towards friendly lines. A grenade bounced off the bus and I entertained the thought that maybe one or two of them would attempt to board and we'd have to butt-stroke them. One could only hope...how many paintball games do you get to announce: "Prepare to repel boarders!"?
Still, once we got clear of the insane amount of punishment we all shared, we couldn't help but feel an unspoken bond that we all survived the beating together as a unit, and nobody quit their station that day. We may have fallen out of that bus when it parked, but we fell out face-up together.
As as soon as I could collect myself, I charged off of SWORD beach, made excellent time to the berm, and then caught a grenade with my face. It was 10 minutes into the weekend.
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