Pop Quiz

When, at the range, your pistol mounted gun-light decides to abandon ship upon nearly every shot, it is properly classified as a:

a) weapon or gear malfunction

b) operator error

c) Bush's fault

d) a theoretical enemy diversional tactic

e) karma for pretending your previous shit-hot shooting was anything but pure luck.

Highlights

Highlights, from this past Saturday, at the Bracken Range.

• Take a wild shot in the dark as to who managed to leave his directions to the range at home... give ya a hint, look at my blog title...
  

• Well, at least I still know that my 'navigation by guesstimation' still works, more-or-less.

• I still called, though.
  

• The first thing that we did when we were paid up at the range office, guns on the table, range hot was... grab our cameras.

• Perhaps the best benefit of shooting a Glock with a 56.43 lb trigger pull is when you shoot that Kimber 'Big Sexy' by merely looking lustily at it. It was like buttah...

• Shooting that CZ-52 made me want to do my Tim Allen man-laugh.
  

• I wasn't entirely sure that I was actually shooting those .22s, but there were cute little holes appearing in the paper, so I was happy.

• I really should get me some .22s...

• And a CZ-52.

• And a Kimber 'Big Sexy'.

• I think a laser might be good for a few training applications, but I'm afraid that (for me) too much of it would wind up with me looking like one of my mom's cats, just chasing it round and round...

• It's probably not just me, but I like to see all kindsa folks at the range. White, black, old-timers, whipper-snappers, church youth, cops, good ole boys, military, men, wimmen, and... was that family sikh? Cool.
  

• Even better than the folks are the guns and being able to, for the most part, randomly walk the range and strike up conversations about folks' different collections.
  

• And the random discussion(s) of how guns are (and are not, besides the obvious) like boobies.

• Mosin-Nagant. [insert more Tim Allen here].

• That last one didn't sound quite right...

• Few might know this, but the Mosin is actually a dolt-action rifle. Yeah, that's when, after the first round, you turn your head to give your best cheerio-droolin' grin to the rest of the group, get behind the rifle again, squeeeeeze that trigger, and then when nothing happens sheepishly rack the bolt, load another round, and fire.

• I have it on pretty good authority that I wasn't the only one to do this...

• Evil. Black. Rifles. Mmmmmmm....
  

• Enthusiastic trigger work does get a visit from range personnel in the form of a warning to slow down the shots... for us.

• I think the rapid fire that didn't raise any eyebrows from the range folks was the concealed class, perhaps? Regardless, looked pretty well populated, good stuff.
  

• I'm not an advocate of spray-n'-pray for the hell of it, but it is nice to be able to practice multiple shots. I got the feel it was more of a 'hunters rifle range' though (slow fire, bench rest, etc), so I understand - their range, their rules.

• When that guy came over to eyeball our EBRs, ask what caliber they were, prices, and why we would want them in the first place, considering that "they were for killing folks", I had to bite my tongue from replying, 'you say that like it's a bad thing...'

• I don't think he would have understood my answer.

• Whoever responded with the more pc (and overall better) answer of hunting, training, and fun, kudos to you.

• Speaking of which, time really flies when you're having fun, huh.
  

Final head count for this Saturday's festivities right ovah hyaw.



Looking forward to it and hope to see y'all there!

With My Luck...

"Ok Murphy, as the new guy on the R&D team, you've been designated as the man to *cough* test out the prototype bio-mech combat suit for the range trials."


"Sweet! Is this the one that makes the wearer almost super-human?"


"Suuuure..."


"What kind of Camo does it have?"


*snicker* "Huh? Camo?"


"You know, is it like a ghillie suit, twigs & foliage n' stuff?


"Not so much foliage as much as... fur..."

*snort*

(Quite Obviously) Volk &/or Tam, I ain't.

Like I said before, rode hard & put up wet a time or two, but still...

...shoots pretty good.

Take your pick of shooty info:

a) One (1) full magazine, emptied rapid-fire (weak hand), after first leaping from a moving vehicle, executing a forward roll, dodging flaming arrows from ninjas, shooting behind the back and blindfolded. Ready for movie roles, $$$, and groupies.

b) From a distance of .5 yds, supported kneeling, 1 rd/min (approx), utilizing spotter, windflags, and jerry-rigged scope. Ready to invade internet forums with mah awesomeness.

c) Shooting from a distance of, "bout here's good" and at a medium pace. Having fun w/every shot.

Good times.

Things that go boom...

In May of this past year, I attended a family reunion of my mother's side of the family. Other than size, it was fairly typical of a standard family reunion, some folks I haven't seen in awhile, some who probably wish it could have been longer between reunions, more of my cousins with kiddos of their own, etc.

My favorite part is meeting new boyfriends/girlfriends of some of my younger cousins and seeing the expression on their faces when they realize that quite a few folk weren't even able to make it. (I can usually get away with introducing myself by at least 3 or 4 different names, 'cause it's almost all going in one ear, passing behind the glazed eyes, and out the other ear.) Yeah, my grandparents had well north of a dozen kiddos, so multiply that by significant others, their children (my level), and then great-grand kids... well, it can be slightly overwhelming. Heck, I have to review the family tree sometimes just to make sure I have it straight re: who's married to who- the offspring of aunt & uncle so-and-so.

Even with the no-shows it was a pretty large gathering, so last years reunion was held at one of my uncles farm, with some staying at the main house, some in RVs, some younger kids in the barn I think, and others in crappy, overpriced little hotels in the neighboring town (guess where I stayed).


Lots o' space on my Uncle's farm.

Plenty of uncles who hunt, recreationaly shoot, and collect guns n' stuff.

Yup, didn't take long for a shooting range to be set up down the way.


Of course, once the shooting started my ears sorta perked up and swiveled around and I lost interest in BBQ & conversation, causing My Love to laugh. She cautioned me not to spend too much time shooting with my uncles and cousins...

So the first day of shooting was pretty much handguns and a few shotguns, nothing too wild, just whatever some of the guys had in their trucks, RVs, or laying around the farm. The second day, well, that was special.

Early the second morning some of the uncles broke out their hunting rifles, project guns, antique guns, how-the-heck-does-this-thing-still-shoot guns, reloads, dare-ya-to-shoot-this guns, gizmos to measure bullet speeds, and (my favorite), old stories. My grandfather showed off and let us shoot a few pistols and rifles that he brought back from WWII and some that he had collected throughout the years. Most of my uncles had seen and shot these weapons many times before, but I was like a kid in a friggin' candy store [drool]. Grandfather asked me if we had been able to keep personally owned 'emergency pistols' over in Iraq, and seemed kind of disturbed when I told him that we were most definitely NOT allowed to do so. After I told him about the many, many, many shakedowns that we underwent to prevent anyone bringing anything back he grunted and told me how when they were sailing back the only restrictions on bringing back weapons was that they not be loaded. Some of his buddies had bags o' guns...

Gah!

Other than the 'story guns', one of the pistols that I particularly liked was this old CZ-85. It looked like it was older than I am from apparently serving a bit of time as a truck gun, resulting in plenty of wear and tear to the finish. The slide stop and safety lever were thumbed silver from repeated use and contrasted nicely with the rest of the gun. The grips were wood, faded and dirty, complimenting the overall dirty/dusty color of the rest of the gun. The right side of the rear sight was the only one that had all its paint left, and it was pretty faded.


It shot like a champ.


This was surely due to the fact that I'm a natural born pistol-yoda, but the fact that it's still a good gun on the inside might've had something to do with it, I suppose.


Later on in the festivities, I was talking to Mom about family plans, people, and whatnot,when she asked me about the shooting. She told me that she had heard that Baby Sis and Little Brother had also fired off a few rounds and even managed not to shoot any eyes out. I told her that they did pretty good, we all had a great time, and I had been smitten with this little 9m that I had shot. I was already contemplating getting ahold of one to use for personal plinking and to offer a bit of variety to my humble collection when it came to going to the range with new and/or tentative shooters.

She took note of which of my Uncles it belonged to.

Fortunately for me, he had been considering finding it a new home, someone who'd take care of it and give it some TLC. He felt kind of bad at some of the treatment it had undergone, and was happy to send it off to a new home.

Score!



Sorry all (&/or Jay), I seem to be having some camera issues (no pics for you!), but in the vein of personal shooty goodness, there's some stuff I kinda like over here.

Somedays, It's Just Better To Stay In Bed

Oy.

Why did I run those stairs again...?


Went to the range this morning, and I'm on the verge of declaring it a 'learning experience'.


Started out as I usually do, dry-fire from the holster, low & high ready, everything feeling good. COLD, but gun-wise good.

Got my ears on, called range hot, and started firing a few practice relays. The dummy rounds I put into my mags kept me honest, for the most part.


I quickly found out that my jacket is too 'poofy'.

Why yes, that is a technical phrase.

I found that as I would draw from the holster (right-handed), I've a tendency to flare my right thumb in anticipation to lay it on top of my left thumb. In warm weather this is no problem, but with the above mentioned poofy jacket, there were a couple of times when my left hand would rise up to support... not a damn thing, as my right hand's thumb was caught up in the right pocket of my jacket. Whoops.


Empty the mags, ready to shoot for score. Doin' the ICE qualification, feeling like ice, this morning...

First round, at 3 ft from target, bent-elbow shooting, from the holster.

Slow is smooth, smooth is fast...

"Shooters ready?... The Shooters are ready.."

There's the target... draw... *Boom!* scan... tuck & re-holster... target turns again... draw & crap,snaggedonthefriggin'pocket-therewego,extendand... *click* whatthe-taprack*Boom!*... *click* sonofamother-taprack *Boom*!


... and it went pretty much downhill from there. I took a moment to clear and break down the weapon, nothing major out of place, slide-release worked fine, nothing blatantly out of whack. I suspected I was limp-wristing it, but was leaning more towards blaming the gun, the weather, the sun in my eyes... or heck, global warming.

I am, after all, a self-declared master combat super tactical expert pistol sniper...


For the record, I must've shot two bullets perfectly into one hole at the 15 yd line- uh, again. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.


At least I can say that I got some great immediate-action drill practice in this morning. Darn near from every shooting line, to boot.


Transitioning from standing to kneeling was fun, lemme tell 'ya. Nothing like slamming yer knee onto a frozen rock while trying to not whimper from running those stairs the other day like I was friggin' Rocky, or something.

25 yards, shooting from cover... two standing shots, two kneeling (greeeaat), reload and prep for shooting on the other side of the cover, again two standing, two kneeling...

"Shooters ready? The Shooters are ready, standby...

The targets turned, my draw was good, extension was ok, first four shots were fine. Kneeling down again *groan*, I took my first shot from the kneeling on the left side of the barricade. I was so dialed in on the front sight post that barely registered the gun-light flying off the frame.

Figures... heck, I should be happy it's only happened once!


End result? Pretty good (considering), but not great. Heck, a bad day at the range is still a good day, right?


Naturally, runing through the course of fire again and for the heck of it resulted in no problems. None, zip, zero, nada.

Inter-Office Tactics, Techniques, and Procedures

This is probably what would happen on day #2 of any Typical Office Job held by Murphy. Probably a good reason why I don't work a Typical Office Job...

Got Zen?

"I started target shooting several years ago, because I wanted to learn more about my work. Now, I find it relaxing. You have to be so mindful of safety when your shooting, it concentrates the mind wonderfully. In the far East, some Zen practitioners use archery, I use a little Browning 22."


Can I get an Amen... for Zen? (Ha!)

Link.

It's funny, the whole zen as shooting concept, but something that I (try not to) think I understand...

Howdy!

Apparently, I have made notice on a few forums, here and there. To the latest group of guys and gals, welcome!

In the vein of greetings and (more) present time stories, I thought I'd mention the to-date few shooting competitions that I've attended. The first one was pretty interesting, if not a little frustrating.

Arriving at the range, I noticed that there seemed to be about the regular percentages of folks there. Mostly older (than me) men, a few ladies, a few younger guys. Some were obviously current or former LE or military, some were just regular shooters. A fairly wide range of weapons present, heavily favoring glocks and ARs.

There was a number of commandos present, complete with LBVs, cammies, and roughly one of every accessory for their particular Evil Black Weapons of Mindless Death and Destruction.

Lessons learned:

1) Going a couple of years without shooting a rifle will show. Alot. Dammit.

2) Going slooooow and dusting off the rifle memories will still result in hits. Slow hits, but hits.

3) Some people collect stamps or books. Others play billiards. Some (civilian commandos) apparently do nothing but shoot. And buy camo. Thankfully, I kept my pie-hole shut when it came to commentary on the fashion selection & sense of some of those shooters.

4) Funny how introducing a few scenarios, barriers, and time restrictions can really put a kink into my self-alleged pistol sniper abilities. I still maintain that I shot multiple shots through the same hole... in the moving target...riiight.

5) I probably didn't do as terrible as I imagined when it came to just the pistol. Transitioning from the pistol to rifle to back again, however... I bet I looked like I was friggin' juggling flaming bowling balls through a brain lock, or something. My rifle mag changes look like I've never seen a magazine. Or a rifle. Or my hands.

6) I'm envious of those couples that both truly enjoy shooting.

7) Like a couple of martial arts I've been involved with, the ones you really have to keep an eye on aren't those that are young, in shape, or geared to the nines. It's not that they aren't good, but it's those sneaky devils, soft-spoken, humble, plainly equipped but well trained, and with more than a few grey hairs that you really gotta watch. Even if you can't really appreciate all of what they're doing, watch 'em. Seriously. Wow.


All in all, it was a very good experience. Those that I spoke to were most helpful in explaining the rules and regs for the occasion. Info and advice were free flowing, all day and in all areas. There was just the right amount of good natured ribbing when it came to the shooting. There was much food for thought when it came to experiences and areas to focus on in self-practice.

A Good Day, Overall

Throughout conversations with my mother, it had become apparent that she was interested in shooting a revolver. I think the actual words were "not one of those black things you know, but the shiny ones, the ones that spin around".

Ok, not exactly my area of expertise, the spinning of firearms, but I'll see what I can do. (Yeehaw!)

During her visit, it was nice to sit and chat about various weapons, pros and cons, and things related. I was careful not to 'feed with a fire hose', but to limit the depth of the talks, to freely admit the limitations of my knowledge, and to introduce safety rules.

The drive to the range was great. It's a ways further out into the rural area, and our talk ranged from guns, to current events, my future work plans, and back to guns. The scenery was great, everything is still green due to the constant rains this year, and the traffic wasn't even that bad. From our talks in the car, there were a few interesting points.

ME: So mom, why the revolver, and not an auto or anything else?

MOM: Well, it just looks better to me...

Fair enough, I suppose.

MOM: Plus I don't really want to kill anybody breaking into the house...


Good, good. 'I wasn't shooting to kill, I was shooting to stop...', I can dig it.

MOM: ...I just want to scare them...

uh oh...

MOM: .... any, only if I had to, maybe shoot them...


pleasesaycentermasspleasesaycentermasspleasesaycentermass...

MOM: ... in the leg, or something.


*sigh* Big Breath... One... Two... Three... Four...... Nine...Ten.

ME: Mom?

MOM: Yes, dear?

ME: I love you, you know.

MOM: Oh, I love you too, honey.

I feel pretty confidant that I cleared up the fact that someone breaking into the house at 3 in the morning with a woman and three flea-bag, mixed-mutt, noisy, and lick crazy rat dogs, is not going to be there for a cup of sugar.


At the range, we rented a .357, got a box of .38 ammo, and were in the process of filling out some paperwork for the range when my mom asked me a question.

MOM: You know who John Wayne is, right?

Did my house look like a big rock over a hollowed out area?

ME: No mom, who's that?

SALES GUY: *No words, but the look on his face was incredulous re the question and answer*

Apparently, I still got my poker face.

MOM: Well he's this actor, right...

SALES GUY: Uh, excuse me. Sir, you uh..

ME: I know who he is.

SALES GUY: Ok, just checking.

Definitely got the ole poker face. Good to know.


The shoot itself was great. I took my time, went over the safety rules, walked and talked through the process of clearing, loading, and shooting, and then talked her through the steps.

She is, without a doubt, a helluva shot.

I am, of course, going to take all the credit.

Towards the end of our range time she went inside to use the restroom, and I broke out some toys. I was having such a good time throughout the day that I had completely forgot about the sun. I don't really worry about it too much, as by the second week of summer I usually have a pretty dark tan, but my mother on the other hand, is somewhat more fair complected. She came out of the office, walked up to where I was clearing and storing my stuff, and that's when really noticed how red she was. Whoops. A little forget me not, if you will.

Update on Teaching Mom...

This has been an interesting experience, for a number of reasons. Lots of interesting advice, both on-line and in person have probably saved me quite a bit of time. Thanks.

One poster, Anony, recommended a couple of books in the subject of women and shooting. While I have not managed to pick them up yet, the subject of books brought up a thought or two.

I am a voracious reader. One of the gifts that my mother gave to me was a love of reading and many, many, many trips to the neighborhood library. Didn't cost hardly anything, and kept us kids busy for hours at a time, a genius idea really. Nowadays, if you go into the spare bedroom of the house, I have an extra bed, the computer set up, and a bookshelf lining an entire wall with all kinds of books. There are many different subject lines, ranging from reference, classic, military history, fiction, martial arts, poetry, art, the list goes on and on. Kind of nice to read another blogger reference a certain book in a post, go into the room and find the book they were talking about. Often, I will find myself re-reading that book, just for kicks.

One subject that I find myself needing to build is that on the subject of firearms. I have a few books, but they are mainly what I would consider reference types; firearms of the 20th century, military rifles of the past 100 years, and anything related to any weapon I had even remote contact with in the Corps. *sigh* I guess enlarging my weapons literature is another thing that I will have to look into. It's a rough life, I know. (Hmm, question: can a 60mm or 81mm mortar and/or ammo be used in home defense? Probably about as well as claymores and other booby traps, that is to say exceedingly well, but strongly frowned upon by neighborhood friendly law enforcement, and with large gains for local construction companies.)

I intentionally haven't picked out a specific weapon for my mother, for a couple of reasons. I would like to start with showing her what I have (which isn't much), and perhaps the collection of a few of my buddies. This would be just to cover the basics, and help us get a better idea on what types we might recommend. Then it would be off to the candy store, and help her pick out her gun, if I haven't been banned for excessive drooling on the windows.

That's another thing. I am really lucky in stores in the area. With very few exceptions, the gun stores around here have good collections with certifiable gun nuts running the show. Very knowledgeable, not pushy, heck, not afraid to admit when they might not be 100% positive on something. S'ok, they just look 10 ft away and there is a good chance that the resident 'revolver nut' is right there biting his tongue to not ambush into the conversation. One thing that I am most impressed with was a conversation with an employee, about a week ago.

I had gone into the store to get some night sights and to browse the holster collection. After a minor purchase, the employee ringing up the sale asked me if there was anything else that he could help me with. Out of curiosity, I asked him about mom. Before I even stopped with the descriptions, he was nodding his head. His recommendation, as well as that of the other two guys that were hanging out, was a revolver, more likely in the .357 variety. Ammo was a little more debated, but all agreed that the whole thing really kind of depended on the shooter. As the other two guys drifted on through out the store, the employee continued by actually recommending that I take mom to one of his competitors who had an indoor range and a ladies night with instructors for the newer shooters.


Hanging out at work the other day...uh...'working' and stuff, I was talking to a receptionist about parents. On the subject of fathers and during the course of the conversation, she mentioned that her dad liked to shoot, she was curious, but never really got around to it. I mentioned my current situation, and offered to take her to the range sometime. She seemed very receptive, and even inquired if she might bring her mother along sometime, as her mom was interested as well. The more the merrier, I suppose. How is it I can go from doing my own thing to teaching two or three new shooters in a short period of time? I am definitely not complaining, by any means, s'just kind of funny how it developes.

A Conversation with Mom...

From a conversation a little while back:

MOM: ...so that's why we have to go pick up Sister Catherine from the jail this coming Saturday.

ME: Uh huh. So the US Army doesn't take kindly to over enthusiastic nuns trying to play ninja on their bases, whodathunkit. I'm kinda surprised she didn't get a speed pass to go see the Big Man himself. Now, if she had been on a Marine Corps base...

MOM: Are you being sarcastic? You little...

ME: Nooooo.

MOM: ...Oh, when I think of all the times...


fast forward through guilt trip...


...all the sleepless nights and gray hairs...


keep going...


...wondering if it was anything that I had done...


oops, not quite far enough. resume fast forward...


MOM: ...Well?

ME: Huh?

MOM: *Loud Sigh* I said that being as your father is out of town so often, I was thinking that one of these days you need to teach me about guns and how to shoot. What do you think?

ME: (going ass over teakettle) *thump*


When I came to, I started thinking about all the times that I begged, pleaded, whined, and otherwise generally made a nuisance of myself when it came to anything related to firearms. "You'll shoot your eye out" was the standard response. Bleh. Looking back on it, I probably would have, but I'm sure that it would have made for a heck of a story. Nowadays, you probably would hear about it on the news or something.


So this puts me in an interesting situation. While I would probably be one of the last ones to say that I am an expert when it comes to shooting or teaching pistol craft, I am more than willing to overlook her grievous denial of my childhood happiness to show her a little bit when it comes to pistols. A few things to keep in mind:

Experience. Despite the fact that most of her brothers went into the Army and a few make me look like a dancing fairy man, she has almost zero experience with firearms. She knows which end goes bang, but that is about it. I'm not going to assume too much else either, when it comes time to teach.

Selection & Caliber. My own experience is somewhat limited (refer to childhood injustice noted above). I have only really started to scratch the surface when it comes to the subject and most of my earlier experiences was more along the lines of the plinking with el cheapo-cheapo pistola on a Saturday afternoon. I am working with all due haste to remedy this lack of knowledge and experience on my own part. Hmm, what to get for her, though? Heck, I could probably wait for the next family reunion, go into Uncle Bob's weapons basement (Arg!), and let her try out basically one of every weapon made since the wooden club (model #002). I figure that she's going to need something reliable, easy to operate, and something not completely overwhelming for her.

Practice. Already covered the ease of operation, but that really is going to come with practice and familiarity. Hopefully, I can show her a little bit in that area. As she likes to remind me, I don't make it down to visit as much as I should, but when I do I would like to have a few ranges picked out in her area, to take her to shoot and possibly to see if there are some real classes that we can get her into. If I go with her a few times, it should make it easier for her to go there when I am not around.

Of course, I am going to have to hit the range, force myself to shoot a wide assortment of different handguns, suffer through the cost of ammunition, all in the name of ensuring that I might not make a complete ass of myself when it comes time to recommending a good match for her.

Life's tough, huh.

Hope she doesn't shoot her eye out.

Incredible

Reviewing my range book one day, I determined that I really needed to face up to the fact that my magazine changes were not all they were cracked up to be. The sun can only be in ones eyes so often, you know. Especially when it's getting dark.

Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.


I start of by loading no more than 3 rounds in each mag. Nothing like endless repetition to improve the skills. Time to get to work.


Slide locks back...left hand drops, right hand curls...look through the guard, drop the empty...left hand up *thud*... damn, failed to seat the mag again...do over, slower. How in the heck does this bastard do it?...Eventually, I am doing the changes very slow. Tai Chi slow. When did I stop pointing with the left index finger? Adjust the mag holster a smidgen forward on the belt, try again...

Slow is smooth, smooth is fast...economy of motion...aha!, moving my weight back for the change, what's up with that?...weight forward...slow it down...Got it! Now do it again...and again...and again. Increase the speed. Slowly, gradually, getting faster, still getting it smooth. Awesome.


Time to Qualify.

Rock on, my dry fire practice is showing. Talking trash to the man on my right, he questions a stray shot on my target. "This little, guy?", I point. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about this little guy". The target tells me what I need to work on, but all in all, it's looking pretty good. Moving right along to the next stage...

Remember, take it easy, breathe, relax, and all that trash. Run through this stage in your head, and wait for the command. Here we go...looking good...plenty of time...relax...here comes the mag change...gonna smoke it this time...Now!!

As a result of my time spent on mag change drills, I suppose that I had gotten a little over confident. I resolved to blaze through the change during qualification, in order to give myself that much more time to ace the shooting. I had pride and a meal riding on my score, every point counted. When the time came, my left hand snapped down, grabbed the mag, and blazed back to the mag well...just in time to hit the empty mag falling away from the weapon. I watched in a sort of amused resignation as I one-handedly juggled two magazines...under the cocked weapon...on the firing line...during a qualification.

Eventually, my last full magazine decided that he had had quite enough of this bumbling, and immediately took a dive down the firing line to my right (banzai!). He tucked and rolled, (as much as the little bastard could) and stopped just to the right of the man to my right.

Crap.


My left hand was already dropping for another mag...I had others, they were just empty. Sweet.

As nonchalantly as I could, I leaned over to my right-hand shooter. "Uh, think you might be able to hand me that mag?". Snickers and gun shots filled the air. He looked at me...looked at the magazine...looked at me...sighed...and kicked the mag over in my general direction. I grabbed the mag, slammed it home, and performed a half-way decent rapid fire.

That 'little guy' wound up with a few buddies, but I did ok on the qualification.

I did not win the meal.

Lessons Learned:
Breathe.
Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.
Relax.
Dry fire.
Body awareness.
Read the target.
Mastered that skill? Pffft, think again, dumb-ass.
Juggling on the firing line during qualification is not highly advised, but as long as muzzle awareness is maintained and correct, juggle on, you crazy circus monkey.
No such thing as too much ammo. Ever.

The Tire House

The Tire House is one name for a live fire training house. Layouts of these houses are as different as the people that set them up, different rooms, hallways, angles, etc. Some don't have roofs, and quite a few have already had the doors ripped/blown/taken off. A plethora of sand bags and tires line the outside to lower the possibility of errant rounds heading the wrong way. A very good training exercise, sometimes painfully good at exposing flaws in the training or tactics of the student.

Every time that I go through one of these houses, I mentally review the quite lengthy list of past mistakes that I have made in order to avoid them this time (One might say so that I may discover new mistakes to make). I might refer to 'One' as an asshole.

Get out of the fatal funnel.
Breathe.
Muzzle points where the eyes look.
Breathe.
Keep moving.
Breathe.
RELAX!
Breathe.
Shoot, move, and communicate.
Figure out where Mr. Murphy is on this training evolution. If possible, shoot the bastard.
Don't get tunnel vision.
Breathe.
Don't just pull the pin and toss, pull, pause, then toss. (nothing like seeing your grenade bounce off the far wall right back at your dumb ass)
Don't pause for too long (bad things will happen).
Breathe.
When in doubt, reload.
Anyone can call a cease fire, at any time, for any reason.

List continues ad nauseum.

The last time that I went through a live fire shoot house, it was for a civilian course in the middle of a huge ranch. Excellent training. Great instructors. Before the house, one of the instructors gave me the ground rules.

To start, one student at a time, accompanied by an instructor.
Friendlies are indicated by the white cardboard targets.
Bad Guys are indicated by tan or brown cardboard targets.
Cease fire means exactly that, immediately.

I assumed the high ready position just outside the door. The instructor took his place immediately to my rear, with one hand on my shoulder. This would let me know where he was at all times through the house, and would provide him with front row seats to critique (laugh at) my run.

No practice grenades here, ride the door in...opening...white blur in the hallway...MOVE. OUT. OF. THE. FATAL. FUNNEL...target...two shots, center mass...room clear, what say we go on to the rest of the house, eh?...in the hallway, out of the hallway...instructor right on my ass, good. Bad form to shoot him...damn, my heart is thumping...friendly standing in front of BG...quick shot...clear...keep moving...should have pissed before this run...breathe...moving...BG!...three shots, on the move...pretty good, actually...
"House clear"...no?...shit, one last room...moving...BG, two to the body one to the head...room clear, house clear, "CLEAR!!"

Critique.

Movement - 'Excellent. Student was always on the move. Could possibly slow down for better aimed shots. Movement from kill zone outstanding. Not necessary to knock over friendlies to facilitate exit from fatal funnel.' I was assisting them to get down and out of the line of fire...or something.

Shooting - 'Good. Groups could be tighter, but most center mass. Nice distance shots.' Pistol sniper, baby, pistol sniper...

Awareness - 'Decent. White blur immediately inside doorway was a test. Not a friendly, but a BG with a revolver.' Sneaky Bastards. 'Called house clear before house was actually clear.' Damn.

Misc. - Not necessary to shoot the tan targets that are stacked in the corner awaiting the next student. Hey, I thought they were BGs getting their group lovin' on.


Over all, a decent run. Plenty of stuff to chew on for the next time.

Because I'm a Pistol Sniper

So a number of years ago, I was at a civilian range, having a good time blazing away through way too much ammo. There were quite a few people at the range, new shooters and old hands alike. I, as it usually seems to be, was somewhere in the middle. Not as experienced as I would like to be, due to time and finances, but I do manage to hit what I aim at, every once in a while. I was talking to these two gentlemen to my right throughout the course of the afternoon. Great guys, one was a Vietnam Vet, the other, the Gulf War.

At some point in the afternoon, we were running through some pistol qualification or the other, and I was quite pleased with my own results. In between the cycles of firing and moving to different firing lines, I was actually shooting pretty darn good. Most of my rounds impacted right about where I wanted them too, although I did notice that I was starting to anticipate a few rounds. Gonna have to work on that, I thought to myself. Other than a few stray rounds off in the realm of the blank paper outside of the black (I sneezed, dammit / the sun got in my eyes / insert excuse here), there was a nice, respectable, and raggedy hole developing in the (mostly) center mass of the target. I thought to myself, 'Self, you're a stud with a pistol!'

I happened to glance over to the two old Marines to my right, and noticed that they were almost complete with their targets, in that on their targets they were drawing smiley faces, hearts with arrows through them, and were currently shooting out the letters printed along the top of each target.



sigh