posting this for a friend... with permission! currently deployed.
The Beginning of my Bird Season!
Well, it wasn't what I would have ever guessed. . . but it was fun!
So, there I was, in the heart of enemy territory. I was a trained elitist of the United States Air Force team known as the BASH (Bird Aircraft Strike Hazard) Exterminationists. Our mission was to neutralize the enemy on all fronts, the saying “feathered are foes†was our only guidance (any bird is fair game). They were being perused for unspeakable acts again aircraft wings, engines, windows, and structural integrity (they smash all kinds of things when hit by an F-16 in flight). We were equipped with a High Power Sniper Rifle of .22 cal, propelled by a forceful burst of pneumatic energy (aka pellet gun). Teams of two were sent to the battle front in expectations of extreme encounters with the enemy. They were trained in aerobatic flight, yet we were highly skilled marksman equipped with the best weapons the US military could afford (22 cal pellet gun and a Tasco 4X32 scope). Though our first few encounters ended as evasions by the enemy, we were not deterred. Our battles eventually led us to the Mecca of all terrorist activity (the sewer retention pond). We sniped away at the enemy, striking with maximum firepower and in the end many lay dead in their tracks (grebe’s, coots, and curlews). Due to the hostile domain of the enemy we were unable to recover our quarry, and confirm kills (I wasn’t going to wade through the sewer pond). The holy grale of all leadership was evading our every shot. The dominant pair of Redheads sat in the middle of their domain. Though they couldn’t stand the firepower they were receiving for long they fled after a round landed a mere 6 inches from the drake’s beak. At 135 yards the shots were long and the connection just didn’t happen. We, however, took pride in harvesting several of the leaderships’ colleagues (coots) as their inexperience at terrorist activity led them to persevere the barrage longer than their seasoned leaders. Though the fighting was fiercesome at the sewer pond we moved on to the chapel, where apparently the pigeons (er. . .enemies) they thought the almighty would save them, however, their assumptions were wrong as they suffered heavy casualties in their time of prayer. In the end several terrorists were eradicated and the runways are now safer for all our efforts. The battle was over and though we reigned supreme the war has not ended. Next Sunday (next day off) there will be another onslaught of killings.
Winning the war, one pigeon BASHing at a time.
Will be home in 3 weeks, Ken
