As I previously said in the last post, I'll be sectioning off the updates. This particular subject is a strange one for me. I don't kill. I will sooner carry a cockroach outside than slam my mighty heel upon it's oh-so-crushable exoskeleton. However...US Weapons a a great time. A fantastic time, even.

Also, we got to learn how to employ and recover claymore mines-lots of fun-and how to correctly utilize the AT4. A rocket launcher!. My favorite is the M203. It's a grenade launcher that can be attached to the M16. I simply love it. It has a good, hardy kick as it sends destructions hurtling and spiraling down range. I only got to fire two dummy rounds that released orange powder on contact, but it was "bad ass" enough.

The best part of the day was the live demonstrations of the claymore mine and the AT4. First, two soldiers-in-training got to fire the AT4. The female, PFC Fred, stands at a mere 4'10". The male, PV2 Sharp stands at 5'4". Needless to say, it was a little funny to see these pint-size soldiers with the AT4 resting atop their right shoulder.

The sonic boom of the blast was easily strong enough to blast out someone's ear drums were they not wise enough to wear their hearing protection. The actual explosion was forceful enough to annihilate a building the size of a duplex. Maybe more. It was odd to see destruction be so gorgeous, too. It reminded me of Niel Gaiman's depiction of Destruction in "The Sandman."

The claymore mine has 100 steel balls attached to about a pound of C4. Need I say anything more? It was cool, too. The blast was monstrous, and they had some dummies to take the shots from the outwardly flung balls. When they brought the dummies for us to see, they showed us the small holes where the balls penetrated. Perfect circles forcing one to realize how fragile life really is.

You think you're so strong and that nothing can harm you. You live in a world of safety and now all of that has changed. At least for me. I'm not half as durable as I thought and death is just around the corner. "Mama, mama, don't you cry. Your baby boy is gonna' die." (Army cadence. Gotta' love it.)

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