Frag Out! Magazine

Frag Out! Magazine #47

Frag Out! Magazine

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swap batteries. A few runs in and nothing's improved. There! Our guys on the ground, watching the bench, report that two people have left and only one remains. Let's go! We arrive, lock onto him as our target— this won't be easy; the grenade has to clear the tree canopy. From 150 m up we dive to 60 m; we must do it quickly so he doesn't notice. Ninety meters… seventy meters… "STOP—abort the attack," our radio crackles as a family of five strolls past the bench. We pull out and head back for a fresh battery…Then we launch again. Clear. Let's approach once more. He's sitting alone; no one else around. Our spotter is 150 m away on another bench, watching everything. We descend to 60 m, hit the release button—nothing. It didn't go. What's wrong? Try again—still nothing. We climb back up; the target remains unaware. Back we go for a new battery and to figure out the malfunction. Our fault: we forgot to switch on the drop system—too much stress trying to launch through the window, I guess. By the way, I have a hunch that right before release I didn't tilt the camera straight down by a full 90°. That error could have caused me to drop the grenade onto the street in front of the park—where the drone was actually hovering—instead of onto the bench with the target. Maybe that's providence. We have only one chance left. We've burnt through all our batteries and none have recharged yet. Besides, it's getting dark. And we assume the target is about to leave too—how long can you sit on a bench, after all? We arrive, cross the street… now take a deep breath. Camera 90° down—check. We drop quickly to 60 m—check. He's alone—check. No civilians around—check. Click. It flies. We see the spoon pop off, see the striker smoke. From this height it should burst right above his head. The grenade drops into the branches, bounces off lightly, and detonates 1.5 m from the target, just above him. The Pyrosoft training grenades in this version are filled only with talcum powder. They can't hurt anyone, but they're good for a scare. Boom. The sound of the explosion reaches us with a noticeable delay. All the birds in the park take flight. The park falls silent for a moment, and we head home on the fumes of our last battery. Mission accomplished. A real grenade would have shredded the target's head with shrapnel. Elimination count: one. Our agent on the ground is filming everything with his phone. We pack up our gear and slip out of the brewery grounds through a hole in the fence. A short while later we checked in outside the local market store. That's it. ENDEX. We head for the safe house. After we return, it's time to say goodbye. The guys from the TDF roll up with hot food—they're hosting this training. For our farewell we give everyone a quick presentation on our gear and swap stories from the past two days. A full AAR will come later. We have to head back; the TDF and Recon teams still have two days of dynamic shooting ahead. We'd love to stay, but duty calls. Finally, they take us to their base. We're impressed. Their safe house—a repurposed fire station—is huge compared to ours, and filled with well- equipped soldiers. Down in the basement we tour their command center and the commanders' sleeping quarters. On the two floors above, weary TDF soldiers rest on cots among their weapons and kit. They www.fragoutmag.com

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