Fieldstripping his weapon was simplicity. His trembling hands added a challenge.
Out came the receiver pin. The vz-61 machine pistol split like a seedpod. Spent propellant smell washed over him.
Harsh metallic rasps as he tried removing the bolt. One of the cocking points fell off and landed on the plush hotel carpeting.
"It bolted," Joe said aloud. He attempted a laugh, breathing in the chemical fragrance of his favorite weapon’s innards.
Why had the young man stood up? The others had known to stay down.
He eventually returned to the task at hand. The trembling was a little worse.