Hunting With Rambo

I'm pretty convinced that the idea for the Rambo movie franchise originated when someone observed one of my hunting trips in college.The screenwriter must have been hidden away; taking notes on exactly what it's like to hunt with Rambo. He modified the story every so slightly to take place in the Asian jungles and, voilà, he had a successful movie franchise.

Now, I've never actually hunted with Rambo, but I'm pretty sure I can tell you exactly what it would be like.

I believe the Rambo movies were actually modeled after my brother-in-law Chris. You see, I hunted with Chris a few times while we were in high school and college. I assure you; rabbit hunting with Rambo is an experience you will never forget.

Rambo, I mean Chris, went to college on an Army ROTC scholarship. The ROTC is filled with guys just like Chris; patriotic, energetic, driven, ready to save the USA from all enemies foreign and domestic, and perhaps a bit over the top. They are, as a group, quite Rambo-ish.

I've never actually seen any of the Rambo movies, but one could not have survived the 1980's without seeing  clips and trailers. The video always showed Rambo in an all out firefight with the enemy. It never ceases to amaze me to see how many rounds they can fire in the movies without reloading or carrying additional ammo; but that's a different story entirely.

Preparing to go rabbit hunting with Chris looked frighteningly similar to what ended up on the big screen. One hunting trip in particular always sticks in my mind when I think about Hunting With Rambo.

Mom and Ted had bought a small farm about an hour outside of St. Louis. They were planning on remodeling the home and moving there but they had not started the process, yet. Rambo, I mean Chris, and I planned on going rabbit hunting there one morning. Mom alerted the tenants in the farmhouse so they wouldn't be alarmed by the sights and sounds of a couple of hunters in the back field.

I'm sure they never expected to witness an all out firefight that would rival the opening scenes of Saving Private Ryan.

I should have realized what I was getting myself into when we met behind the car to get ready for the hunt. I put on my hunting vest, uncased my 20 gauge shotgun and threw some shells into my pocket. Chris asked if that was all the ammo I was taking. My response, with a bit of sarcasm thrown in, was, "The limit is six, Chris. I'll only need six shells."

Chris took a bit longer to get ready.

Chris could never be accused of being a minimalist. With Chris; it's in for a penny in for a pound. For example, when he bought a new camera, I'm pretty sure he also bought every lens and accessory known to man that would mount on that camera body. That attitude carried over to pretty much every hobby he undertook; including hunting. Chris would be ready for anything in the field.

I could not believe my eyes as Chris began unloading the back of his station wagon. He could not rabbit hunt with merely a shotgun or rifle; no, he had to carry multiple firearms of virtually every type available. That was only the beginning, though. I was convinced that Chris had stolen the entire contents of an Army ammo dump as he started loading up with ammunition for the hunt. Chris didn't just have a hunting vest. No, he had a tactical vest before tactical vests were cool; and  a fully loaded bandoleer.

Over the next ten minutes, or so, Chris methodically loaded up enough ammo for an entire platoon - make that a platoon that was not going to see a resupply truck for at least a week! He apparently loaded up in anticipation of running into an entire enemy army that we might need protection from in the thirty acre farm field.

Those rabbits can be sneaky, you know.

I was convinced that Chris would be hanging grenades off his vest before we could leave the relative safety of the back of his station wagon to venture into the enemy's territory. Yes, those rabbits had somehow transformed from a quarry suitable for the crock pot into an enemy of the state. There was a certain, rather frightening transformation in Chris, too.

Right before my eyes; he became Rambo.

I patiently listened to his briefing before leaving the station wagon. Rambo laid out our plan of attack and reviewed the hand signals we would use to communicate our sightings and intentions once we reached enemy territory. He called upon every bit of his ROTC training to determine the best way to rid the field of the enemy.

Patience is very important when hunting.

Patience is apparently not one of Rambo's stronger traits.

We probably hadn't made it ten steps from the car before Rambo saw something - whether real or imaginary is still open to speculation - that needed to be destroyed. After all, every round of ammunition Rambo carried was extra weight and he certainly couldn't be expected to carry all of that extra weight around all day! It seemed that Rambo was bound and determined to return to the car with no un-fired ammunition.

Rambo pretty much opened fire on anything that moved that day; and also on a few things that didn't move. At one point we were down near an old dump; which, of course, is really nothing more than a massive collection of things needing to be shot. Bullets and shot rained down on every available target. Rambo was unfazed as rounds ricocheted around us; our ears filling with the sounds of bullets whizzing by.

Rambo was not going to wimp out over something as simple as ricocheting bullets. No; Rambo bravely stood through the danger - ready to destroy any target that caught his fancy.

I'm sure every rabbit in Franklin County, Missouri was well aware of where we were throughout the day. We somehow still managed to shoot a few rabbits. They were obviously the deaf and blind ones since they otherwise had ample warning to vacate the area before our arrival.

Our mission eventually brought us back to the station wagon; our hunt seemingly complete. It couldn't end that easily, though.

Rambo still had ammo...

He eventually was ready to call it a day. I can't recall if it was because he actually ran out of ammunition or only because his shoulder was too sore to continue shooting. In either case, Rambo was ready to leave the battlefield.

Rambo slowly and methodically turned back into Chris as the gear was stowed. We cleaned our deaf and blind rabbits, got into the car and made our way back to civilization - America once again a safe place to live and work now that Rambo had eradicated all enemies, foreign and domestic, in that little corner of Franklin County.