Let’s play soldier. It is just like Call of Duty. You can shout
“Medic!” just like the war movies. It’s fun. People give you respect when you carry a rifle. Neato. That is, until you meet someone on the other side who has killed before, many times, and will take your life gleefully, with as much effort and emotion as one puts into opening a can of beer. Stay home.
Does he shout “medic!” and answer himself? He’s lucky to have that wound. It’s not a bleeder and he will regain use of his arm. Ugly to see, mostly muscular expulsion, but not the same as when the round goes through the bone.
Impressive.
There is no plan. When this goes hot, all these untrained wannabes will die in the first few days, and the vacuum will be filled with guys with actual close quarter combat experience. Then command and control kicks in, along with efficient strategy and mission goals.
You don’t carry your rifle on your chest, and fail to keep response distance from an individual or a crowd. In one fell swoop, most of these guys can simply be punched in the face, their magazine release button pushed , and before the magazine hits the ground, you have pulled the charging handle back on their rifle, ejecting any chambered round. Then pull his sidearm too or take a blade and shove it through his throat.
How the shooter slept last night.