I didn't feel anything. That was the scary part. Shooting those men didn't bother. What messed me up was the fear and self-hate for not being bothered, and the loudness and speed of the whole thing. Shooting and killing wasn't traumatic, but the whole experience of combat, of executing a man in front of me under fire: that's what got me. Followed with the much greater weight of wondering what the hell was wrong with me for being able to do that and feeling...nothing. What kind of monster was I? Details below. I was visiting family in Pakistan when a political war broke out in Karachi after the assassination of Benazir Bhutto. I was caught out in the streets with my cousin. Before we could find a place to hide we were caught by a small gang of 4 teenagers, some of which had knives or pistols. Normally, I would comply with a mugger, but in Karachi, muggings go down differently: they shoot whether you comply or not. Knowing this, I did the ballsiest move of my life, waiting till they were distracted by some car down the street to struggle with the kid who was closest to us with the gun in my face. It was nothing like I had trained for in martial arts or the range. I wrestled his gun from him, I shot him twice, I emptied rounds into another guy who I knew had a gun, and I took off running perpendicular to the group while they were still surprised, cousin running ahead of me while I fired behind me. I heard/felt two ricochets and felt a big impact in my left shoulder accompanied by pain, heat, and then numbness, before we ducked down an alley but I didn't have time or the patience to figure out the specifics. We just RAN, ran till my legs were about to give out. We hid behind cars and a shop front to catch our breaths while the various party members dukes it out in the streets and ran till we could reach somewhere safe to rest, coming up on a little mosque full of people waiting the conflict in the streets out. It wasn't until then till I noticed the blood, and it wouldn't be two hours from then, when the adrenaline subsided a bit, that I felt any pain again. It was excruciating. When I got to my uncle's house before it became safe to go to a trauma enter revealed that the round had splintered and fragmented. A trip to the hospital then and two surgeries and toms of physical therapy back home in the States later, I still have some bone missing in my shoulder but pretty much have full use of my arm. It was, as the movie title goes, extremely loud and incredibly close, not to mention fast. My adrenaline was pumping so fast I felt lighter than air. I was SOOO lucky and stupid. Therapy's still ongoing. I can't say that experience didn't contribute to my reasons for becoming an EMT. I hope I never have to go through anything like that again.