Tomato Battle And your classified instructions on how to come out alive from Col. Sam Trautman

[Begin Communiqué] The war never ended, Johnny. Not for you. Not after Korea. Not after 'Nam. It just went to sleep, and now Portland needs you again. A red tide's rising. The enemy is gathering. And this Saturday, he's bringing hell with him for the Tomato Battle, an hour-long melee that'll make the streets run crimson, and fill the skies with the battle hymns of local band [NAME CLASSIFIED]. Here's what we have for intel:

Rendezvous: You must meet your contact (Codename: Registration Guy) between 12:00 and 16:00, and say the secret phrase "I'm here to register." You'll then proceed three clicks east to the beer garden to load up on nutrients like Mac's Amber and Thunderhead IPA.

Munitions: Intelligence indicates 50000lbs of tomatoes headed up I-5 as we speak. Destination: the parking lot outside MacTarnahan's Taproom. You must fight through your foes to access them, then unleash hell like a Howitzer full of Heinz.

Uniform: You're covert. Blend in. Sources say many enemies will dress in tomato-based costumes, or as George Clooney from one of his prouder film moments.

Rules of Engagement: No launchers. That's it. But be warned: The enemy is ruthless, and uses hipsters among its ranks. Go against every iota of your training and do your best not to pelt them in the face.

Give 'em hell, Johnny. Survive an hour in that hellhole, and it'll be all cold beers and tomato-soaked beauties on the beach, just like old times… until the next battle.

[End communiqué]