Beyond The Frontline

Fragment Lima

By the end of the day, all 30 volunteers had cycled through their training, firing a collective total of over 300 rounds. Colt glanced at the spent bullet casings, letting out a small sigh. Each bullet had taken significant effort to produce, and seeing the stockpile diminish was disheartening. Still, he reminded himself of the purpose behind the expenditure. The bullets weren't being wasted; they were an investment in the long run.

For now, Colt had no plans to train the volunteers with the intensity or complexity of his Marine Corps days. The current priority was simple: ensure they knew the basics and could shoot accurately enough to hit a target. Advanced drills, tactics, and other rigorous training would have to wait; delving into that now would open a whole new can of worms that the village wasn't ready to tackle.

As it stood, if these 30 novice shooters continued practicing daily, Colt was confident they would become a reliable force to safeguard the village. This would allow him to focus on other pressing matters without constantly worrying about its security.

Another week passed, and Colt's team completed an additional batch of 10 bolt-action rifles. With 20 completed firearms now available, Colt distributed them to the more competent shooters among the group. The remaining 10 volunteers would continue training, borrowing rifles from their peers as they worked on improving their skills. Bit by bit, Colt's vision of a self-sufficient and well-armed village was taking shape.

Inside Colt's home, he sat in silence at his desk, a small stack of papers visible and waiting for attention. In his hand, he held a single sheet—an inventory log for all of his ammunition. As he read through the list, his eyes narrowed, and an eyebrow arched at the numbers staring back at him.

"Okay, four machine gun belts. All eight of my mags loaded. Thirty extra rounds in the house just in case. And finally...only 200 left for training," he muttered, the realization dawned on him.

Colt placed down the paper and proceed to tapped his finger on the surface of the desk. "Shit. This ain't looking good," he said before thinking back at how it got to this.

Every day, only 15 trainees were allowed to practice shooting, with the other half training the following day. Each person was given just 10 rounds to fire—whether they hit their target or not was a different story.

After running the numbers, Colt realized he might have bitten off more than he could chew. In just a single week, over a thousand rounds had been spent solely on training.

He glanced back at the inventory log, the numbers stark and unforgiving. One of his earliest orders, right after scavenging supplies from Rine, was to prioritize manufacturing bullets. Before even considering the bolt-action rifle, Colt had ensured that ammunition production was in full swing. By the time the rifles became a reality, they had churned out over a thousand—nearly two thousand—rounds. At the time, it felt like an impressive stockpile, more than enough to keep them prepared.

But then came the plan to introduce firearms to this world. Training the volunteers, equipping them, and testing every rifle chipped away at the ammunition reserves far faster than his team could replenish them. Each shot fired was a lesson learned for the novices, but it was also a sharp reminder of just how finite their resources were.

This was bad. Colt knew it, and as much as he didn't like it, he had to make the hard choice. Training would be put on hiatus until their ammunition reserves reached a stable and sustainable number. It wasn't an easy decision, but it was necessary.

Without hesitation, Colt issued the order. With 20 functioning bolt-action rifles now in their arsenal, it was time to scale back on rifle production and redirect half of the manpower to ammunition manufacturing. Equipping every shooter with a rifle was an admirable goal, but Colt understood his limits and the importance of priorities. Ammunition was the backbone of everything they were building, and without it, all of those rifles assembled wouldn't mean a thing.