First, it's been a while since I've posted (and played), so it's good to be back.
Second, I hope to God I spelled that name right. Stupid repeating syllables.
And now... on with the show!
Short Stopping - Cutting an enemy advance behind their own lines and causing their "speartip" to crumble as their supplies are cut, forcing a retreat and attempt to reclaim the rear.
Now, this was only my second time playing Jalalabad (stupid syllables), the first being a a debacle of IO mode that quickly made me quit playing. In fact, this was only my second time playing since late 1.3, as IO mode pissed me off that much. (Squeaky Twelve Year Old Voice: I'm so 1337, I can place these claymores all over the place, and I get free 1337 kills! Then, I'll pwn you as a medic, cause I'm so ****ing 1337, and I can self-heal w/o fear of ever encountering a tank. And I'll spam grenades in every ****ing corner of the map with my ammo bag, because guns are SO lame.)
Anywho...
So, after a few rounds learning the map, I was on MEC (64 player). The Americans had taken the lake and the two lower points on the main road. We were fighting at junkyard and taking/losing/repeating on the second checkpoint. My buddy Pyropirate says on TS, "Hey, they're just racing DPVs through that damn lake. Let's go harass them."
So we packed up our army of two, grabbed Eryx's, and ran out to the lake in an FAV. We get there, and no one is there. The USMC is just racing through it every couple of seconds. So, we promptly capture the flag, and set up camp. I get behind the rocks, him behind the blown out shack. Sure enough, a HMMWV comes speeding over the hill.
I spot him on TS, "Hum-Vee, cresting ridge at 12 o'clock!"
"Roger, got him in sight!"
"Firing!"
"Rocket away!"
Two AT rockets collide on the transport halfway down the slope, and it just stops dead.
"Oh, dumb ****er didn't even know what hit 'em."
"Hell, yeah!"
Seconds later, "DPV! Cresting 3 o'clock!"
"Set! Firing!"
The rocket shoots through the frame, missing. The DPV skids through, running across the lake- but Pyro still has a shot, and it's hauling ***, not maneuvering, since I'm reloading.
"Firing!"
The DPV takes one in the tail and disintigrates over the surface of the lake.
"Nice shot."
The FAV spawns for us, and we park inbetween the rocks and hut, creating a roadblock. We know they'll be smarter next time, so we need a new trick.
Sure enough, two HMMWVs come over the ridge.
"Hum-Vee, 11 o'clock! It's live on the .50!"
"Hum-Vee, 3 o'clock, it's in the trees, no joy on rockets."
"They got smarter... hit left. Let's piss 'em off."
I hop out, the .50 tracks in, but I don't fire, jumping back as the bullets skip off the rocks. Pyro hits it from the blindside, and it begins smoking.
"He's on me now!"
The .50 tracks onto his cover, and I jack-in-the-box back out, sending my rocket streaking into the broadside. The HMMWV doesn't stand a chance.
The other HMMWV, seeing his buddy go down, comes screaming in, and a DPV we didn't see rushes as well. Pyro calls out, "DPV! DPV!"
We're both reloading, and they're closing fast- but the DPV doesn't see the FAV roadblock as he fishtails through, and he slams into it-
-the HMMWV slams into the him-
Pyro ends the show with a rocket into one of the vehicles. I don't know which one, but the whole pileup turns into a car-b-que. Someone bails out, jumping out just before the inferno, trying to exact revenge, but he bails right in front of my DAO-12. There's a momentary blast of ratcheting fire, and he's piled on top of the wreckage.
We're pretty proud of ourselves, now, and we start joking about how we're eviscerating their backsides. Without the second line of advance, pressure is relieved on the MEC flank. The commander even gives us a box of supplies, making our lives that much better. Then it all goes to hell.
"Heads' up, Mav! We got a tank on the road!"
I poke out. Yeah, it's the M1A1, and it is pissed. We must have really been a thorn in their side, because they've dispatched a tank to gun down two soldiers. "Alright, we're making friends- oh, ****."
Another M1A1 rolls over the right bank of the hill. They've sent both tanks for us. In a way, I'm proud. We pissed them off that much, they're sending all their armor after two people. I wonder how many people they THINK are over here.
Of course pride does only so much, and I can't help thinking, We are so totally boned now. It was fun while it lasted.
Pyro sees it, too, "**** what? Oh- they're pissed."
"Yeah, at least they're not in the city. Let's hurt 'em 'fore they take us."
"Right, sights on right, he's crested. Firing on three at treads."
"Roger that-" I poke my head up, and bullets wing off the rocks. A cannon round detonates on the front facing, sending my vision to hell and my health crashing down to half. "He's got my 20!"
Pyro fires, sending the rocket right into the treads. It's a good shot. The tank must think it killed me, or maybe it's just vindictive, but it turns to gun him. The other tank hooks out long, trying to loop around the back, circling like a jackal. A very big, armored jackal.
"Need cover!" He ducks into the hut as a round smacks the exterior. I don't know if he's hurt.
"Roger that, the other's circling, he's gonna backdoor!"
"Crap, moving!"
Pyro springs out, sprinting for the rocks. The tank tracks, but I jerk up, shouldering the Eryx. The tank must have heard the laser spike, because it swings around to check for another AT, leaving Pyro alive. I fire, and the rocket catches the tank right in the front tread. It detonates, hurling fire upwards.
But the other tank has my location now. Machine gun fire pelts the rocks, and a 120mm HEAT goes off somewhere behind. "Under fire! Drawing him out!" I dive over the rocks as a second round screams over my prone body.
CRANG! I hear a rocket slam the tank.
"HIT!" Pyro calls.
I pop up, dumbfire, and prone. CLANG!
"Nice shot!"
The tank's engine roars, and it backs out. The driver knows he's gone in too far. He's sacrificed his maneuver in the tight rocks and trees, and we're whittling him to death. He's too slow.
Pyro's last rocket blows the top off.
"Thank God!" I stand back up, reloading the rocket and running for the supply box. "That was sweet."
"Oh, yeah." There's a pause. "You know, they're just gonna get more angry and come back. You wanna do it again?"
"Hell yeah."
Three matches we did this. We held the tanks, the HMMWVs, the DPVs, and the infantry attacks. We held against jihad jeeps, endruns, circling attempts, and the mass wave attacks. Two men, ten rockets, 112 shotgun shells. And we stopped them each time.
It was the most insanely cool thing I've ever done in BF2. They could have, should have, broken through. A couple of good snipers could have picked us off, but they didn't have the patience. As soon as someone was hit, the other would fall back behind cover. The first would return, and we'd hide. The sniper would get bored and close (and die) or move to better pastures.
Heck, they could have just IGNORED our checkpoint and gone around, but they wouldn't, because they were getting pissed about being gutted by a couple of jerks with rockets.
Instead, they came in in vehicle streams, getting picked apart and slaughtered in round-robin duels. Their armor never got into the city. They never took the lake. It was incredible, and a great example of a risky gamble paying off.
We short stopped the USMC at Jalalabad, and they never could take it.
Second, I hope to God I spelled that name right. Stupid repeating syllables.
And now... on with the show!
Short Stopping - Cutting an enemy advance behind their own lines and causing their "speartip" to crumble as their supplies are cut, forcing a retreat and attempt to reclaim the rear.
Now, this was only my second time playing Jalalabad (stupid syllables), the first being a a debacle of IO mode that quickly made me quit playing. In fact, this was only my second time playing since late 1.3, as IO mode pissed me off that much. (Squeaky Twelve Year Old Voice: I'm so 1337, I can place these claymores all over the place, and I get free 1337 kills! Then, I'll pwn you as a medic, cause I'm so ****ing 1337, and I can self-heal w/o fear of ever encountering a tank. And I'll spam grenades in every ****ing corner of the map with my ammo bag, because guns are SO lame.)
Anywho...
So, after a few rounds learning the map, I was on MEC (64 player). The Americans had taken the lake and the two lower points on the main road. We were fighting at junkyard and taking/losing/repeating on the second checkpoint. My buddy Pyropirate says on TS, "Hey, they're just racing DPVs through that damn lake. Let's go harass them."
So we packed up our army of two, grabbed Eryx's, and ran out to the lake in an FAV. We get there, and no one is there. The USMC is just racing through it every couple of seconds. So, we promptly capture the flag, and set up camp. I get behind the rocks, him behind the blown out shack. Sure enough, a HMMWV comes speeding over the hill.
I spot him on TS, "Hum-Vee, cresting ridge at 12 o'clock!"
"Roger, got him in sight!"
"Firing!"
"Rocket away!"
Two AT rockets collide on the transport halfway down the slope, and it just stops dead.
"Oh, dumb ****er didn't even know what hit 'em."
"Hell, yeah!"
Seconds later, "DPV! Cresting 3 o'clock!"
"Set! Firing!"
The rocket shoots through the frame, missing. The DPV skids through, running across the lake- but Pyro still has a shot, and it's hauling ***, not maneuvering, since I'm reloading.
"Firing!"
The DPV takes one in the tail and disintigrates over the surface of the lake.
"Nice shot."
The FAV spawns for us, and we park inbetween the rocks and hut, creating a roadblock. We know they'll be smarter next time, so we need a new trick.
Sure enough, two HMMWVs come over the ridge.
"Hum-Vee, 11 o'clock! It's live on the .50!"
"Hum-Vee, 3 o'clock, it's in the trees, no joy on rockets."
"They got smarter... hit left. Let's piss 'em off."
I hop out, the .50 tracks in, but I don't fire, jumping back as the bullets skip off the rocks. Pyro hits it from the blindside, and it begins smoking.
"He's on me now!"
The .50 tracks onto his cover, and I jack-in-the-box back out, sending my rocket streaking into the broadside. The HMMWV doesn't stand a chance.
The other HMMWV, seeing his buddy go down, comes screaming in, and a DPV we didn't see rushes as well. Pyro calls out, "DPV! DPV!"
We're both reloading, and they're closing fast- but the DPV doesn't see the FAV roadblock as he fishtails through, and he slams into it-
-the HMMWV slams into the him-
Pyro ends the show with a rocket into one of the vehicles. I don't know which one, but the whole pileup turns into a car-b-que. Someone bails out, jumping out just before the inferno, trying to exact revenge, but he bails right in front of my DAO-12. There's a momentary blast of ratcheting fire, and he's piled on top of the wreckage.
We're pretty proud of ourselves, now, and we start joking about how we're eviscerating their backsides. Without the second line of advance, pressure is relieved on the MEC flank. The commander even gives us a box of supplies, making our lives that much better. Then it all goes to hell.
"Heads' up, Mav! We got a tank on the road!"
I poke out. Yeah, it's the M1A1, and it is pissed. We must have really been a thorn in their side, because they've dispatched a tank to gun down two soldiers. "Alright, we're making friends- oh, ****."
Another M1A1 rolls over the right bank of the hill. They've sent both tanks for us. In a way, I'm proud. We pissed them off that much, they're sending all their armor after two people. I wonder how many people they THINK are over here.
Of course pride does only so much, and I can't help thinking, We are so totally boned now. It was fun while it lasted.
Pyro sees it, too, "**** what? Oh- they're pissed."
"Yeah, at least they're not in the city. Let's hurt 'em 'fore they take us."
"Right, sights on right, he's crested. Firing on three at treads."
"Roger that-" I poke my head up, and bullets wing off the rocks. A cannon round detonates on the front facing, sending my vision to hell and my health crashing down to half. "He's got my 20!"
Pyro fires, sending the rocket right into the treads. It's a good shot. The tank must think it killed me, or maybe it's just vindictive, but it turns to gun him. The other tank hooks out long, trying to loop around the back, circling like a jackal. A very big, armored jackal.
"Need cover!" He ducks into the hut as a round smacks the exterior. I don't know if he's hurt.
"Roger that, the other's circling, he's gonna backdoor!"
"Crap, moving!"
Pyro springs out, sprinting for the rocks. The tank tracks, but I jerk up, shouldering the Eryx. The tank must have heard the laser spike, because it swings around to check for another AT, leaving Pyro alive. I fire, and the rocket catches the tank right in the front tread. It detonates, hurling fire upwards.
But the other tank has my location now. Machine gun fire pelts the rocks, and a 120mm HEAT goes off somewhere behind. "Under fire! Drawing him out!" I dive over the rocks as a second round screams over my prone body.
CRANG! I hear a rocket slam the tank.
"HIT!" Pyro calls.
I pop up, dumbfire, and prone. CLANG!
"Nice shot!"
The tank's engine roars, and it backs out. The driver knows he's gone in too far. He's sacrificed his maneuver in the tight rocks and trees, and we're whittling him to death. He's too slow.
Pyro's last rocket blows the top off.
"Thank God!" I stand back up, reloading the rocket and running for the supply box. "That was sweet."
"Oh, yeah." There's a pause. "You know, they're just gonna get more angry and come back. You wanna do it again?"
"Hell yeah."
Three matches we did this. We held the tanks, the HMMWVs, the DPVs, and the infantry attacks. We held against jihad jeeps, endruns, circling attempts, and the mass wave attacks. Two men, ten rockets, 112 shotgun shells. And we stopped them each time.
It was the most insanely cool thing I've ever done in BF2. They could have, should have, broken through. A couple of good snipers could have picked us off, but they didn't have the patience. As soon as someone was hit, the other would fall back behind cover. The first would return, and we'd hide. The sniper would get bored and close (and die) or move to better pastures.
Heck, they could have just IGNORED our checkpoint and gone around, but they wouldn't, because they were getting pissed about being gutted by a couple of jerks with rockets.
Instead, they came in in vehicle streams, getting picked apart and slaughtered in round-robin duels. Their armor never got into the city. They never took the lake. It was incredible, and a great example of a risky gamble paying off.
We short stopped the USMC at Jalalabad, and they never could take it.
Comment