For those that are planning to take part in the most recent Zombie Postal Match (and I have to be honest here, one participant has burned some significant bandwidth sending in several entries) I’ll be posting more shortly.
I appreciate your patience, and for those that haven’t sent anything in, what are you waiting for? Christmas?
Based on a few exchanged comments over at What the hell am I doing here? I’ve decided the next match will be for the less modern occupants of the gun safe.
Ready?
A quiet day, almost perfect in fact, and you and a friend are wandering out to your favorite parcel of empty land to run a few rounds through your newest acquisition, a beautiful old -insert rifle name here- you can’t wait to try out. As you approach your private range area a man stumbles out from the treeline immediately ahead.
Dressed in the tattered remnants of a three piece suit stained along the front with some sort of black liquid he certainly doesn’t “blend” with the countryside. You call out to him, now 40 yards away, and on hearing your voice he changes direction and begins shuffling towards you groaning loadly.
As the distance shortens you can clearly see massive injuries to his head and right arm. You’re conflicted, is this the survivor of some massive car wreck from the nearby highway or (having just spent the previous night watching zombie movies on TV) is this a reanimated corpse come to ruin your day? Your friend quickly decides to render aid, and despite your warnings goes racing up to the man. He is immediately attacked and goes down fast and hard. You’re rooted to the spot, your confusion momentarily overwhelms you until you see another stumbling corpse exit the foilage, quickly followed by a third.
Confusion evaporates as you fumble open your box of shells and begin loading your rifle, hoping against hope that the guy who sold it to you wasn’t embellishing when he described it as dead accurate.
Finally a few minutes in which to shoot the match mentioned here, for added value I dragged both the Mossberg 500 and the Remington 870 out, along with the Smith and Wesson Model 14. Cool temperatures, occasional sun and no one else in evidence around the range.
Perfect.
In accordance with the course of fire set out originally I set up three targets at 50 meters, load the 870 with four 1oz slugs, and shouldered the shotgun. Aiming down the sites I take aim, pull the trigger and COMPLETELY FORGET THE AMOUNT OF RECOIL INVOLVED! Wow. No time for reflection, first shot was a direct hit, two more headshots follow with the only threat to my safety being the sore shoulder I’m rapidly developing.
Piet and I were discussing our next effort in this series and decided that a little variety was in order, and that we should incorporate shotguns into the next match. We’re still working on stepping out of our comfort zones while battling the living dead, and while we’re comfortable shouldering a rifle against the zombie hordes, neither of us were entirely certain precisely where shotguns would rate in the battle.
It’s fine and good to say a shotgun is a good anti-zombie weapon, but is it really?
With that in mind here’s the scenario;
A day off, finally a day off. Ignoring the few chores that you really should be attending to you’ve decided to sneak off and put in a little time at the range. A quick hour or so, before getting back to the administrivia of day-to-day life. You’ve grabbed your shotgun simply because it’s been languishing in the back of the gun cabinet, and your favorite pistol and a few boxes of ammo for each.
Top 40 music plays quietly on the car stereo, and as that generic bubble-gum pop tune you hate so much starts playing and you reach for the tuning knob a trembling voice announces that the emergency broadcast network is assuming control of the station. The good news is that horrible tune won’t be stuck in your head, the bad news is that some sort of chemical spill has taken place on the other side of town, and the military is instituting a quarantine, martial law and a curfew all in one fell swoop.
Stopping your car only long enough to load your pistol and shotgun you execute the worlds worst U-turn and drop the hammer, heading for your significant others workplace back in town. There is almost no traffic into town, but the roads are jammed heading out, indicating to you that you are, at least, inside the quarantine zone.
Arriving at your significant others workplace you see three horribly disfigured people hammered on the main glass doors, wide eyed employees inside can be seen peering over partitions and desks. It’s a matter of moments before that glass shatters.
You boldly step from your vehicle and rack the slide (ejecting an unfired shell which arcs gracefully through the air and under your car). Kicking yourself for going “hollywood” in the heat of the moment you step forward and….
Awoken from my nap on the couch I catch the tail end of an emergency network broadcast. Details are sketchy but civil unrest on an unheard of scale is sweeping the major cities of the Province, the military has been mobilized and acts of cannibalism have been reported. The rest of the details are a blur as I race to the gun cabinet to grab my VZ58 and Sig P220, a few magazines for each and some loose ammo.
No time to waste. It’s the Zombocalypse. Good thing our daughter is visiting with relatives in that isolated, well-stocked survival bunker for the week.
Racing to Lisas’ work I see a few zombies on the far side of the parking lot, three are snacking on former employees near the lunch truck (any irony there?) but one sees me, and with that throaty moan all four begin shuffling towards me. Shouldering my rifle I fire four shots, dropping three of the zombies and causing the fourth to tumble to the ground.
Half lowering the rifle I sprint towards the staff entrance to the building pausing only momentarily to see the “wounded” zombie stagger to it’s feet and resume homing in on me. He’s joined by three other rotters from the parking lot, and I pause before entering the building to once again take aim. Four shots ring out and then an ominous click, three more zombies tumble to the ground.
The rifle is jammed, I cannot cycle the action to clear the stoppage. Dropping it I unholster my pistol and take aim at the four zombies closing in on me. Ten shots echo across the parking lot, one zombie falling to the pavement with no further movement, the remaining three draw ever closer.
I’ve exhausted my ammo, at least for this match and while scoring a number of hits on the remaining zombies heads, none count as a “kill”. I was, as it turns out, killed by three zombies in a parking lot and didn’t even have the presence of mind to save the last round for myself.
Scenario by Piet:
You return home one day from work, as usual. You stretch out on the sofa, preparing for some much deserved sleep, maybe just a quick nap before getting on with the chores that seems to accompany everyday life. A rude series of beeps alert you to an incoming news bulletin. Seems the corpses of the recently dead are returning to life, intent on consuming human flesh, and screwing up your nap.
Aparently all those nights planing for the end were not in-vain. Panic strikes as you reach the gun safe and realize ammo is in short supply, and now not only will you have to defend yourself, you’ll have to make your way to the “better half’s” place of employment and save her too. Obviously a handgun rifle combo is the way to go here, but, with diminished ammunition prudence is the best course.
Knowing that any “Targets” in-front of the building, or blocking your path would have to be dealt with first, distance is going to be a factor. If a few well placed head shots could be made the path might be clear enough to rush the building. Knowing that the living dead have a tendency to be everywhere you don’t want them, confrontation inside the building seems likely. And for up close work a pistol would fill the bill.
Armed with a pistol and rifle you set forth to be the hero we all know you can be.
Well, today marked the second international familial postal match, similar to the first but the with rules and drills defined more clearly. Having a few other errands to run today I didn’t want to make the 45 minute drive out to my range for 10 minutes worth of shooting, and instead zipped over to the Colby Shooting Club after dropping my sweetie at work.
I’ve always had good experiences at Colby, and consider it my range away from range. With my hardcase and range bag I checked in, unpacked the Sig P220 and AR15, hung two zombie targets and after taking a moment to exchange some pleasantries with a club member on the firing line, launched ten rounds (5 each of 9x19mm and 5.45x45mm) at the first target.
Uncertain as to where the rounds hit (again due to the nature of the target), I squinted with all my might and reminded myself that the AR was sighted in for 100 yards. I then took a deep breath and went after target number 2.
Ok, so Piet and I shot our first friendly postal match. It would seem from the results that I was the winner, but on discussion we figure more details of the shoot should have been nailed down as we each made some assumptions when we arrived at our respective ranges. I took the opportunity to fire a few practice rounds before shooting at my match targets, Piet shot at them cold. I was firing my AR supported and Piet was not.
So that said we’ll call the last match a trial run, we’re going to do it again. We’re going to do it somewhat differently.
After some discussions on the respective rules in place at both our ranges we’ve come up with a simpler course of fire for round number two, which is as follows;
Shooting at 20 yards, 5 rounds standing unsupported with AR at steady (1 mississippi) pace, 5 rounds 9mm semi-auto standing unsupported at same pace. Two targets per competitor, no practice prior to shooting the match targets.
Headshots deemed sufficient to deanimate a zombie count, all else is considered a miss.
While this is a friendly competition between Piet and I anyone is welcome to participate. Closing will be Wednesday August the 8th, 2007.
Long gone are the days that I can throw a rifle and a handgun into a hardcase, check them as baggage and fly down to Texas to see my brother and his wife, enjoying some friendly competition at his range (Well, technically my range too, I’ve a lifetime membership around here somewhere). We really only got to do that once before 9/11, and the administrivia involved in doing it these days is more than a bit of a headache.
Piet has suggested more than once that we should get a postal match going so that we can compare our toys, and get some more of that friendly competition going. I kept dragging my heels, until the other day when we decided on the spur of the moment to just go ahead and do it.
Piet provided the target and after agreeing on a complicated drill involving rifle/pistol transitions, time limits and all sorts of stuff singularly unsuited for a postal match, we decided we’d just shoot 5 rounds at 20 yards with a 9mm (Piets Glock vs. My Beretta) and 5 rounds at 100 yards (AR15s with iron sights). A few miscommunications later, and we both found ourselves on our ranges 1600 miles apart, shooting at the same targets.
Now, I had decided in advance that I would bring 3 targets, one each for the agreed upon firearms and an extra for my Smith and Wesson Model 14 (which I was curious to see in this sort of test). Not too suprisingly the Revolver was a reliable little zombie killer.
While scoring what appears to be three killing hits, It clearly doesn’t count, and for two reasons. The first is that we agreed on semi-auto 9mm handguns, the second is that I put 6 rounds into the zombie (that bottom one is actually two holes) instead of five. Still, nice to know the old S&W can hold it’s own when the zombies come knocking.