Army cadets...

...we found ourselves prone atop a small hill, our machine guns rapidly unleashing countless blank rounds toward the wood below, from where a cacophony of youthful shouts and screams phased with the distant cracking of rifle fire, like a badly conceived Steve Reich piece.

Three of us had carried machine guns that were longer than we were tall throughout a long, arduous day of orienteering and survival exercises interspersed by walking, lots and lots of walking.

As was usually the case with these things, we'd been dumped in the middle of the Oxfordshire countryside with our weapons (without any ammo, blank or otherwise), a map, a bit of food, some vague instructions and lots of thinly veiled threats about the consequences of our inevitable misbehaviour.

As was always the case with these things, each team had among them a ready supply of drink, drugs and plenty of mischievous intent to help get them through the 10 hours of wandering helplessly about the countryside.

The day culminated in the opening scene, as though to provide scant reward for the torture the day had provided, and the image of three very drunk, machine gun wielding reprobates, firing joyfully towards their beloved school chums never fails to amuse me.
( Moey, Fri 30 Jan 2009, 13:37, Reply)