The Noid
December 4th, 2006, 03:33 AM
Back a few years ago I was involved in guerilla fighting more or less out of my own personal safety than other reason. I don’t feel it is necessary to name the country I was in at the time, but I thought I’d share my encounter with guerilla combatants since I've been seeing lots of it in the news lately.
To make a long story short there were about forty of us foreigners in country. Most were contractors, medical technicians, and some business folk. Most of us were Aussie, American, or Israeli with a few German and Swiss (go figure). Fighting broke out between militias and government troops. Fighting got to be pretty nasty, but mostly in the innards of the town. We all lived on the west end and was away from most of it. All utilities were out so no phone or power. Later in the week the militias forced the government troops out to the east end, opposite of were my community was located. Pretty soon there was firing and explosions two blocks from me. One of the guys had gotten word from an embassy that this was a minor dispute and would settle out. We all decided to ride it out.
An Aussie two house down told me that the previous night a couple militiamen tried to break in to his house, but he fired at them and they ran off. Most people, by the way, kept a small caliber pistol at home for protection. The attempted breaking into of houses became frequent, though no one disturbed me. Later on the same week, at dusk, a militia group fired on my section of town with light arms and hand grenades.
I had brought with me on during my move to this country fifteen of my military rifles, mostly bolt actions but I did take my US made DSA FN-FAL. These were to provide me with something to do out in the desert on bored days with my associates. I had between 100-300 rounds of ammo per rifle as most were different calibers. Anyway, I called my neighbors to see if they had some form of protection. Several didn't so I donated some of my personal arms to them just in case.
The week went on and fight escalated on our end of town since the government troops decided to push on and drive the militias out. I decided by this time that I had to get out and travel 85 kilometers to my embassy and try to get the hell out of that God forbidden place.
As I was trying to leave, a Toyota with a 12.7 Soviet on back raced down the street emptying an entire box into the sides of buildings. I thought to myself, "Shit, they really are trying to kill us." By that time several neighbors had already made it over to me with their arms and asked if I was ok. I had with me the FAL with six full magazines. We were crouched behind my truck when several rounds came whizzing overhead. By that point we didn't have much choice but to return fire, not necessarily to kill but to try to run them off. After ten minutes of firing the militiamen weren't moving and were still firing at us at a distance of about 100-150 meters. We fired on til we were out of ammunition. We were forced to retreat to my house for the night. There I supplied what ammunition I could, mostly distributing ammo to the rifles I had given out. It was a logitstics nightmare.
There were four types of Mausers (two 1891s, 98k, and Gew 88), none of which had interchangeable ammunitions, though two were 8mm (different bore sizes of 8mm). The three Nagant rifles had plenty of ammo and so did the French Berthiers, but the Berthiers take a special enbloc clip to load the ammo so that presented a problem. I was also out of .308 and since I didn't anticipate on being in combat, I hadn't purcahsed anymore. The only rifle left on my rack was an M1 Carbine with two fifteen round magazines and three thirty rounders plus ammunition for each. We kept watch the rest of the night and ended up firing at passing rebels at they drove by firing wildly. The next day firing ceased and in the street were a couple AKs and a Swedish K submachine gun plus scattered ammo and boxes, evidently that had fallen off passing trucks. We recovered them and gave the AKs to the guys that had the Berthiers and I traded my M1 for the Swedish K since there was four magazines in a crate for it plus extra 9mm. We also recovered a box of 7.62 from where the militiamen were when they first fired at us.
We relocated to the farthest house on the block to hold up there. The next two days there was sparatic firing by passing trucks and a couple hand grenades thrown, but we forced them to move on. We actually disable one truck.
Finally, the government troops made it to where we were. The commander spoke some French so we could half way understand him. He told us that the rebels had pulled to the outskirts and that everything should be ok. We held up three more days without any problem and finally got word via radio that the "uprising" was over.
Fighting like that takes place everyday and is normal life for many in Africa and the Middle East. I know I couldn't live with all of that again on a daily basis. I'm glad I was finally relocated out of there and live in a peaceful country. I thought about writing my account in full detail and try to publish it, but I haven't.
To make a long story short there were about forty of us foreigners in country. Most were contractors, medical technicians, and some business folk. Most of us were Aussie, American, or Israeli with a few German and Swiss (go figure). Fighting broke out between militias and government troops. Fighting got to be pretty nasty, but mostly in the innards of the town. We all lived on the west end and was away from most of it. All utilities were out so no phone or power. Later in the week the militias forced the government troops out to the east end, opposite of were my community was located. Pretty soon there was firing and explosions two blocks from me. One of the guys had gotten word from an embassy that this was a minor dispute and would settle out. We all decided to ride it out.
An Aussie two house down told me that the previous night a couple militiamen tried to break in to his house, but he fired at them and they ran off. Most people, by the way, kept a small caliber pistol at home for protection. The attempted breaking into of houses became frequent, though no one disturbed me. Later on the same week, at dusk, a militia group fired on my section of town with light arms and hand grenades.
I had brought with me on during my move to this country fifteen of my military rifles, mostly bolt actions but I did take my US made DSA FN-FAL. These were to provide me with something to do out in the desert on bored days with my associates. I had between 100-300 rounds of ammo per rifle as most were different calibers. Anyway, I called my neighbors to see if they had some form of protection. Several didn't so I donated some of my personal arms to them just in case.
The week went on and fight escalated on our end of town since the government troops decided to push on and drive the militias out. I decided by this time that I had to get out and travel 85 kilometers to my embassy and try to get the hell out of that God forbidden place.
As I was trying to leave, a Toyota with a 12.7 Soviet on back raced down the street emptying an entire box into the sides of buildings. I thought to myself, "Shit, they really are trying to kill us." By that time several neighbors had already made it over to me with their arms and asked if I was ok. I had with me the FAL with six full magazines. We were crouched behind my truck when several rounds came whizzing overhead. By that point we didn't have much choice but to return fire, not necessarily to kill but to try to run them off. After ten minutes of firing the militiamen weren't moving and were still firing at us at a distance of about 100-150 meters. We fired on til we were out of ammunition. We were forced to retreat to my house for the night. There I supplied what ammunition I could, mostly distributing ammo to the rifles I had given out. It was a logitstics nightmare.
There were four types of Mausers (two 1891s, 98k, and Gew 88), none of which had interchangeable ammunitions, though two were 8mm (different bore sizes of 8mm). The three Nagant rifles had plenty of ammo and so did the French Berthiers, but the Berthiers take a special enbloc clip to load the ammo so that presented a problem. I was also out of .308 and since I didn't anticipate on being in combat, I hadn't purcahsed anymore. The only rifle left on my rack was an M1 Carbine with two fifteen round magazines and three thirty rounders plus ammunition for each. We kept watch the rest of the night and ended up firing at passing rebels at they drove by firing wildly. The next day firing ceased and in the street were a couple AKs and a Swedish K submachine gun plus scattered ammo and boxes, evidently that had fallen off passing trucks. We recovered them and gave the AKs to the guys that had the Berthiers and I traded my M1 for the Swedish K since there was four magazines in a crate for it plus extra 9mm. We also recovered a box of 7.62 from where the militiamen were when they first fired at us.
We relocated to the farthest house on the block to hold up there. The next two days there was sparatic firing by passing trucks and a couple hand grenades thrown, but we forced them to move on. We actually disable one truck.
Finally, the government troops made it to where we were. The commander spoke some French so we could half way understand him. He told us that the rebels had pulled to the outskirts and that everything should be ok. We held up three more days without any problem and finally got word via radio that the "uprising" was over.
Fighting like that takes place everyday and is normal life for many in Africa and the Middle East. I know I couldn't live with all of that again on a daily basis. I'm glad I was finally relocated out of there and live in a peaceful country. I thought about writing my account in full detail and try to publish it, but I haven't.