Biggest firefight

[BAD BEN]

im newish 2 PR so i was wondering what is the biggest fire fight u have expirenced


mine is as follows
i was playing al basrah as UK last week and within the 1st 10 minutes the insurgents had captured the vehicle check point and were not giving it up without a fight. so i was in the village and got shotso i respawned in the commanders truck which was 50 meters away from the checkpoint. so i respawned and there was bullets flying everywhere. got out and took cover behind the truck. had a look and i saw molotoves raining down on advancing men and guys getting moyed done by insurgents bullets. anyway i pellted towards the CP and doged molotoves and got to the wall. i saw a civi throwing rocks so i got out my knife to stab him and i chased him around a corner to be greeted by an insurgent and his AK. and i died. that round was the shortwest round i have ever had lasting less than 15 minutes because of all the losses of trying to assualt the CP

[[R-MOD]dunehunter]

My most bad-ass firefight so far was PLA in the NE side of Kyong'yang Ni and the US in the SW corner, which lasted for around 5 minutes before we managed to wipe out the dirty capitalist scumbags.

[Guardian[]B()b]

Recently on Hills of Hamyong we British were trying the flank up the hill and engaged tangos on the high ground for a long time as they rained grenades, and support fire down on us. We finally pushed them off the ridge but not fast enough as the ticket bleed got us in the end.

[[R-MOD]Eddiereyes909]

Basrah, a couple of clan mates and I were playing that round on the opreal EU server, well we went searching for cashes, (we were all on the opreal TS) so we destroyed about 5 of them, when the CO informs us that the merlin saw at least 15 guys following us, we got to the 6 cache and all of the guys attacked us, it lasted like 9 minutes, i (for the first time ever in BF2) used all my ammo,and since no one was rifle man, we were screwed,

so we thought

but as we started running out of ammo,an IFV came in to the area,we all took cover right behind it, and got ammo, as soon as we were done an engineer surprised the crewman, and detonated an IED, that and with the help of an RPG, destroyed the IFV,

we then ran for cover, and engaged in another firefight lasting 4 minutes.

we mowed them down with our saws, me with the officer kit shot 4 guys with a picked up officer kit shot 4 guys with a pistol. we secured a section of the street and the merlin picked us up and took us back to VCP.


Man that was one hell of a day

[[R-COM]Outlawz]

Originally Posted by Guardian[]B()b

Recently on Hills of Hamyong we British were trying the flank up the hill and engaged tangos on the high ground for a long time as they rained grenades, and support fire down on us. We finally pushed them off the ridge but not fast enough as the ticket bleed got us in the end.

HoH is now USMC vs. PLA, no more British *cough*

I never experience any good firefights, because most of the engagements usually end under 1 minute with all of us being sniped, grenaded or mowed down by an armoured vehicle. Or vice vera and they are all dead.

[Meester]

On Jabal Al Burj as we the MEC were about to win suddenly swarms of enemy troops started pouring over the hills at the bridge objective - machine gunners, humvees and a black hawk were all involved.

The black hawk came shooting some distance away and we drove it off smoking over the sea with gunfire. A machine gunner was aiming at me over the crest of the hill but luckily he kept missing so eventually I shot him in the head with the rifle set to single shot. I died twice with one of them coming after falling over the edge chasing a run-away field dressing. That was a good battle with friend and foe fire everywhere.

[SuperTimo]

Longest one i was in was on kashan desert. I was on the US team and the commander had placed a firebase on the hills to the east of the bunker complex which the MEC had control of.

Basicly the MEC started throwing everyting they had at this ridge with our firebase on, we had 3 M1s 2 Linebackers and a couple of LAVs all trying to defend this ridge from choppers, tanks and planes at one point i my squad was killed and i was left alone and had to just sight tight on the fire base as an enemy squad came towards me. luckily a nerby tank took em out.

This stalemate lasted until the end of the round.

[00SoldierofFortune00]

Had some bad-ass fire fights in Jabal between the City and Factory. Once we had a whole MEC armor column with full apcs coming toward the city lead by Fuzzhead which we knew were coming and just as we started repelling them, the server went down. It was almost the whole MEC side to be exact.

A lot of good firefights happen between the two sides on Kyongan Ni and EJOD has had some pretty epic long range battles.

[DenniZ-NL]

EJOD and Basrah usually provides some good firefighting action

[[R-MOD]Mongolian_dude]

I don't think anyone expected it....
Sgt.Fuzzhead gave the order and we saw that it was good.
"Stop them in their tracks. If they flank around this bridge, suburbs falls and the rest will follow. Its down to us, men."

The air was heavy and the sand was powdery, crunching against the tarmac of the the road leading to the western bridge. The extra 15 or so pounds added by the RPG-7 over my shoulder dwarfed the usual irritations of a sweat filled helmet and swinging smoke grenades. I'd have preferred frags, but fuzz insisted each man takes at the very least one.
Small arms and a 50cal could be heard grunting away on the far east of the city. The train yard was under siege.

The new guy was close ever my shoulder, with a worried face beneath his classic Islamic beard. He huffed and puffed, like all new guys did. They'd never been in the shit before, so adrenaline was thick in his blood. That and the pair of RPGs he slugged over one shoulder. His features were somewhat Iraqi or Kuwaiti. Well, he wasn't Iranian, thats for sure.

Fuzz gave the order for the 1st two of us to cross and order the Automatic rifleman and our company medic to cover while we move to the other side. FuzzHead wasn't his real name. Its was the nickname he got for his thick beard, which he grew long from his proud jawline. He stood high while all of us kept low, choosing to wield his pistol over his Rifle. He would say "It makes it easier to point which way you men should be shooting".
There was something extraordinary about him. He was a fine leader and spirits never wained. There were few who didn't believe he was the scimitar of Allah himself, sent back to drive away these foreign devils in the name of Islam. He had never agreed with terrorism though.
'Suicide bombing is for those too week to fight' He claimed.
He had been fighting Americans for years. Back during the second Iraq war, he was one of Saddam's finest royal guard. When the establishment fell, he lay low, working the quiet life of a farmer, only to later join the insurgency in Al-Basrah.

Engines could now be heard over the southern fields and the Americans were going to mobilize. The ghost of Syrian special forces rushed in aggressive silence to the main street to the HOP, east of suburbia(the Hold Off Point, in military terms).
The grenadier, a good friend of mine, whispered idle chat to the automatic rifleman, who in tern snickered under his breath at the remark, against the but of his HK21, leaving condensation in the late noon heat. Americans were too lazy to fight in the high-noon sun.
"I thought they were supposed to be cowboys?", exclaimed the medic, taking a sip of Dutch Lemonade, he'd managed to trade in with the quartermaster.

We slugged south across small berms of sand in line formation. Not that we could see it, but we knew there was no cover from here to the small bridge, the ambush point.
Wedge formation and moving fast. We had to get their before those Yankee bastards. Their were three cracks and whizzes and we all went to the stomach. We really should have been slaughtered in the open sand, but the American was aiming to high. We all let off a few rounds at the helmet shape on the bridge and the Hk21 spun off some suppressive fire.

Every time day you see action, you think you've heard something louder than the last time, but that sound, that day must have really been it.
An M792 round only has to miss to hurt you. The LAV spun its wheels on the small, complaining, patch-work bridge. 25mm of High explosive certain death spun angrily in the heat haze meters from us. The new guy curled up in a wince off to my left and Fuzzhead konked me over my helm with the but of his pistol. I rolled around in shock, thinking id been hit. I looked him in the face but his eyes wawere too concentrated on getting the RPG off of my sorry back. The thought that ever here depended on me and this tube gave me some sense. Together we untangled the thing and I rolled over and twisted the rocket in place. Fuzzhead yelled and everyone held their helmet on tight...
You cant help it. A split second before you fire it, you close your eyes and hope it doesn't go off it your face. It was one almighty crack and not a split second later the sound of true force...

With bells in my ears and sand in my eyes, i blinked and looked dazed, just like every soldier for 70meters around. The sounds of fighting from the train wreck was a reminder of everyones situation we all peered at the LAV. 5 troops on the bridge, lagging behind the LAV ran for the little cover they could away from the vehicle in shock and panic. Others scrambling from the LAV and dragging others behind them. The LAV's turret complained like a wounded animal as the gunner refused to give up, but it was badly damaged and he could not fire one shot.
"Kumbulah!!!"
Fuzzhead sprung to his feet, grenade in one hand, the scope of his G3 clutched in the other. The new guy sent some rounds down range at the scrambling troops. The Hk21 joined in and the Grenadier took flight for better cover and unleashed his GP-30, followed by a crack of 101 fire.
The enemy found his bearings and now was firing a few rifles back.
Red tracers clashed with green and figures fell. I ran, to the new guy, RPG over the shoulder still, my other arm flailing, trying to keep my G3 at bay on its strap. I twisted another projectile into the Russian made launcher. What seemed like a good 2minutes before my shaking hands were ready to aim and my brittle legs rooting me down. I released a rocket and this time it flailed in the air, but struck the LAV in the side and the turret moaned a little and smoke began to bellow from the top hatch, next to the absent M240...It just sat there, hanging out the side armour like a cigar from a lazy mouth. I cursed it and began to load the last of our rounds and two more troops scrambled out of the LAV, one dragging the other and then it went off, causing my nervous hands to drop the round into the sand, warhead first and it stuck in the sand, like a knife in wood. The smoke and sand engulfed the APC and its crew alike as the heat rounds exploded, within the hull. Whatever inside felt comforted by the thick exterior armour, would now be regretting it.

Seven enemy corpses lay around the broken LAV and 6 of their comrades were sprawled around the bridge.
The new guy had been caught one in the fore arm and another in week points of his hefty black body armor. He seemed unphased by the injury, high on adrenaline and morphine administered to him, wrapping a pure white field dressing around the wound. Fuzz returned from the bridge at a light trot, grenadier and Auto rifleman shortly behind. The grenadier had clearly pissed himself and still clearing sand from his throat.
I stood and looked out at the battle ground around us. The LAV lay lifeless, freckled with its own AP rounds, exploding from within and wisps of smoke from the side ports, which almost touched the sand as the APC was off balance from lack of wheels. Craters or scorched earth lay about, evidence of the heavy M242 Bushmaster, boasting HE rounds.
Every other foot, the sand slept underfoot, untouched except perfectly round dimples, not at all like impacts of the intent to kill.

As the sun began to set and light fire of the counter attack chattered on, prayers could be heard over the western hills from mosque roof of the near by Mashtuur city, Phoenix's larger cousin city. I'd be praying to Allah doubly that night. There could be no other explanation as to why, here, at the heart of the town, I live to watch over my comrades who each earned their rest, under the setting sun and falling ashes of the pheonix.

Based on a true PR pubmatch.

...Mongol...