Thanks to the drought, the firing line at Knob Creek this fall was a constant dust cloud, instead of the usual mud pit. I got a few shots during a cease-fire:
Check out that Vickers!
When the line goes hot, the wall of sound is unbelievable. It's like a physical presence; it fills the air so there's no room for your voice, no matter how hard you try. It's a constant roar of money being turned into noise, occasionally punctuated by a cannon or the RRRRRIIIPPP!!! of a couple-second-long burst from a minigun tearing up targets downrange like the finger of an angry god.