Friday evening Jill and I were minding our own business when Max called and asked if we would like to spend the evening at the ward campout. We wouldn’t stay over but would just eat the food and leave and perhaps visit for awhile. Jill had been working hard all afternoon on the invitations for Melissa’s bridal shower and she needed me to help to get them finished. So I had hard duty putting the stamps on the envelopes. They were self-adhesive stamps so I didn’t even break into a sweat.
Sharon and Max came by, I grabbed my camera and my rickety gorilla stand and we stopped at the store to buy supper to eat at the Weber Memorial Park. To stave off hunger we had to eat the bag of chips on the drive to the campground. I wanted to get Subway sandwiches but Max forced me to eat chicken which turned out to be a good choice as did it ever taste good. After we ate we placed our chairs around the campfire and visited with a few of the ward members. The temperature was very comfortable and I relaxed around the fire breathing in the wonderful aroma of smoking wood. You can’t camp unless you come back home stinking of smoke.
Just then I heard the sound of aircraft in the distance. It looked liked there were three of them flying really low. They buzzed over the campground and banked to make another pass. They dropped even lower and suddenly the ground around us was alive with miniature volcanoes exploding all in a row. But the noise told me it was machine gun fire and the holes in the back of the empty chair confirmed it. No-one was hurt on that first pass but we just couldn’t spare any more chairs. I was galvanized into action, I really didn’t want the dutch oven cooking to be ruined. I ran to man the gun (every campground should have one) and opened up. Thankfully budget cuts had not reached to eliminating park ammunition but had cut out police patrols instead. I got two of the planes but the remaining one took off to the east. I think I got his fuel tank so that will cost him a penny or two at the pump.
Jill was shaking me, “Wake up, you were yelling ‘Take cover’ in your sleep. What were you dreaming about?” I replied, “You know, I do believe it’s time to shoot some pictures.” Jill said, “Who put the holes in my chair?” I answered, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
The children were tubing in the river and trying out the slide. Todd won the dutch oven cookout with a peach raspberry cobler. Soon it was time to head home and Jill and I were glad that the Blair’s are such good friends and neighbors.
Thank goodness we had Rickety! Every ward camp out needs a good anti-aircraft gun operator! Just think what would have happened had the strafing continued! We may actually have gotten bits of dirt into the dutch oven deserts, or worse still, the flaming marshmallows may have only had time to be toasted! We would have had to cook hot dogs over the fire instead of waiting for the little kids to cook the marshmallows and cook them over the flaming marshmallows.
Anything can happen at a ward campout.
Wow! Cool story! I believe every word, especially since there is a picture of the machine gun.