What he didn't count on was a little thing called capillary action. When we got in, he pulled that pistol from his backpack and then from it's nominally protective cocoon of Zip Loc-ness. It was absolutely orange with rust- I mean it looked like a battlefield pick-up from Guadalcanal. It was mesmerizing, none of had ever seen anything like it. The outer metal surfaces were already visibly pitted and the action was frozen. It took a hammer and screwdriver to break it down- after it soaked for hours in penetrating oil.
He spent most of two days cleaning that weapon. The armorer still had to send it out to get refurbished.
We did not laugh about his misfortune over our steaks until our faces hurt that night.