I originally decided to leave Thailand for Cambodia in the hunt for a story when a fellow Irish expat casually mentioned that the country was so awash with heavy weapons that tourists could pop along to a firing range and have a crack at detonating hand grenades and firing rocket launchers. So, on my second morning in Phnom Penh I got up with the birds, met up with my mini entourage and headed off towards the extravagantly named Thunder Ranch Shooting Range on the outskirts of the capital.
A few years ago foreigners couldn’t walk ten paces anywhere in Phnom Penh without being approached by a tout attempting to steer them into one of dozens of such establishments then dotted around the city. During the 1990s a trip to a Cambodian style range was a tad more adventurous than the average clay pigeon shoot. Legend has it that many a visitor was offered a live animal for target practice. Water buffalo were nervous – there was the ever-present danger that they could be innocently minding their own business, eating grass in a patty field or what have you, only to have some lunatic tourist creep up and blast them to pieces with an RPG.
Remnants of the Khmer Rouge were still launching raids from the hills around Siem Reap at the time and tourists arriving in town on a Rambo buzz after watching The Killing Fields could buy a rocket or mortar piece and fire it in the direction of hated communists. Unfortunately, for the sickos of the world anyway, the authorities soon tired of the chicanery and moved in to clean up/corner the market. Ranges were shut down and replaced with government controlled versions such as the Thunder Ranch, which is run by the Cambodian Army’s Special Forces. My guide and translator Thida however, was adamant that for the right price those of such tastes can still buy an animal and shoot it for the entertainment value.
After a 40-minute drive through the city’s manic traffic we pulled onto a dirt track that cut across a couple of kilometres of waste land. The shattering rattle of an AK47 in full flight soon became audible over the noise of the tuk tuk engine, and was close to deafening by the time we pulled up at the wooden post and corrugated iron shack known as the Thunder Ranch.
A Khmer soldier strolled up to our tuk tuk and gestured for us to take a seat inside. We did so, and were handed a laminated menu that started with a Sprite and ended with a hand grenade. The idea of gunning down livestock was pretty repugnant but I have to admit, I’ve always wanted to shoot a gun and couldn’t take my eyes of the array of weapons displayed on one wall of the hut. I pondered over the weapons on offer – Bonny and Clyde-style Tommy guns, GP machine guns identical to Rambo’s and a rocket launcher just like the one the Real IRA shot into the front of the MI6 building a few years back.
As I sat there wondering what to go for, mostly 20-something tourists were gleefully blasting away at targets from firing positions just in front of me while more still arrived to do the same.
The prices were astronomical by Cambodian standards but reasonable beyond that. I eventually decided to have a go at a Spaz military shotgun and that Irish favourite the AK47; and the price came in at $70. When our soldier was escorting me towards the firing position I forced myself to ask about whether it was true that people shot animals here. He squinted at me for a moment while slowly scratching his stubbly chin. “You want to shoot some animal?” he asked with a suggestively raised eyebrow. “Not today,” I said, knowing the answer that was coming. “I was just wondering if you could still do that here.” “Oh no,” he replied with a shake of the head. “This stop long time ago!”
Thida began chatting away in Khmer to the guy and she later told me that he assured her that if I wanted to give it a try some other time I could secure the services of a chicken for $20 or a water buffalo for $100.
After some cursory instructions on how to load the shotgun a paper target was pinned up, I was handed some ear protection and it was time to act like a big kid. The gun, although heavy was a lighter than I expected it to be. The first shot obliterated the target and although the recoil, the smoke and the noise were slightly disorientating, it was enjoyable. I moved onto the Chinese-made AK47 and started blasting away but while the novelty value was sort of cool, I was bored before I got to the end of the clip. I did however, discover that AKs are not designed for left-handers. My weapons tutor leaned over to cock the gun when it jammed, but because my left hand was on the trigger my head was to the right of the barrel – so the empty bullet shell that popped out when he pulled back the hammer (which was red fucking hot) pinged me square in the eye.
I wrung some information about how long the range had been up-and-running, the number of visitors it gets and the amount of ammunition it goes through from our helpful Cambodian Commando before taking a few photos and heading back to the tuk tuk. I could certainly see what the attraction was but felt there was something distasteful about playing around with guns in a country that suffered so badly from their misuse. The tourists were still rattling away as we sped back down the dirt track to the main road, much as they would every other day. At least I reasoned, it would eat heavily into the country’s massive weapons stockpile.
