Saving Private Brian.
So yah wanna hear about the Second Great War, eh? Well, I guess I got time for a story or two. You young’uns got it so easy these days, you know, what with all this newfangled rail gun nonsense and all those guys runnin’ around in ski masks with fancy aw-toe-matic weapons and C4 explosives. Yer spoiled rotten! What you really need is a lesson in the old ways of blowing things up.
Yeah, back when I was your age, all I needed was a Mark II fragmentation grenade and a trusty Tommy to see me through to greener pastures. Now if you’ll just sit down and shut up, I’ll tell you all about the war. I’ll tell you all about the Allied Assault.
The time was long ago and the stage was far away. Those damn Axis powers were trying to take over the world and they were doing a gosh darn good job of it. But that was until Powell and I showed up. Yeah, me and the Lieutenant have been through a lot together – and it’s because of our success that the war was won. The road was long and hard, but it was well worth it in the end.
Our squad was sent all over Europe on various missions, nasty ones that no one else had the balls to do. From the landing at Omaha Beach to the storming of Fort Schmerzen, it was a neverending firefight that kept me on all nine of my toes.
Even the poor Lieutenant had an injured leg. He couldn’t jump worth a damn. If stupid Private Johnson hadn’t been playing with that grenade… eh, never mind. Where was I?
Oh yeah, so we ran through enemy bases, hiked through snowy forests, and even stalked through bombed-out cities. I didn’t have a chance to appreciate it while I was bein’ shot at, but now that I think about it, everything looked gosh dern spiffy. Definitely a whole lot better than all of that plain corridor duty I had before joining up with the squad.
There were some missions Powell would do by himself, but the best of times were when we were together. The squad would run around killin’ as best we could, but in the end, not all of us would make it home. Kinda sad, but war has a tendency to do that. What is it good for? Absolutely nothing.
I don’t know what them pesky Nazis put in the soup, but there was almost always only one way to go. It’s almost as if we were being led into a trap all the time. It was like following a preset line, a, uh, ‘linear path’, so to speak, as you varmints call it these days. But at least we were able to kill a lot of guys and get the job done. That’s all that counts, I guess.
Like Lieutenant Powell, I was a jack-of-all-trades. Just put something in my hand that goes bang and I’ll make sure the bad guys are staring down the wrong end of it. I got to play with a lotta weapons, kids. There was my beloved Thompson SMG, my trusty Colt .45 when things got rough, and even one of those big bazookas to peel the treads off a tank. I also recall pulling our the ol’ Springfield ’03 Sniper, and every so often I had to make use of the mounted machine guns that were in the field. Crazy days, crazy days.
There was even a few times when I got to ride in a jeep and cover our escape. Oh, and there was also this time when I got to drive this big mean tank and blast the hell out of some old buildings. Some people might think driving a tank is hard work, but it’s really not. And when you roll over your first enemy, you’ll know it’s just plain fun.
And speaking of the enemy, them’s were some sneaky sons of bitches! They’d run for cover and even stick their weapons out from around corners just to get a pop at ya. Worst of all were those damn snipers. The one that gets you is always the one you never see. If it weren’t for the Doc, I’d still have that bullet wedged in my bee-hind. Just remember, to beat a sniper, you’ve got to think like a sniper. Find his little hidey-hole and then BAM! Knock his block off.
Now I usually don’t believe in magic, but some arcane goings-on were definitely afoot. On a few missions, I recall enemy soldiers just popping in from out of nowhere. One minute, there’s no one there; the next, a pair of Nazis pops out of thin air and start shootin’ at us. Maybe they was wearing some fancy camouflage, but I think it was just some unnatural Nazi voodoo.
And then…huh? Whazzat? You gotta speak up, Billy. Grandpa can’t hear like he used to….which reminds me…hoooo-boy! You never heard the sounds of a war until you heard it during the Allied Assault! If there’s one thing that will wake you up in the morning, it’s the sweet sound of shrapnel. Every gunshot, every explosion, every music track they played back at the base between mission was like music to my ears. If I ever need to make a war movie, I know exactly what it needs to sound like.
After the war was won, I went back to some of the old stomping grounds for another firefest with some people from around the world. The locations had changed a little, but they were still bee-yoo-teeful. We played several types of war games, including the standard team-based match and every man for himself. The most fun, though, was playing an objective-based match where we would try to do things like blow up a Flak 88 cannon or defend a bridge. The action was hectic and fun, but with all those places to hide, I almost never saw the bastard that shot me. Damn those snipers!
But you know something, Sparky? That Allied Assault was a blast. Sure, there were some hard times, but I enjoyed every minute of it. If you ever get to have an experience like mine, I’m sure you won’t regret it. Now get outta here and go play some of those video games of yours. I need a nap.