Back from Butner

So it's Monday and Lagniappe and I have returned. We took a trip this week-end, leaving Friday and heading down through Virginia, passing through Fredericksburg, Richmond and Petersburg on the way. we didn't do much in the first two because my leg was giving me some grief, but in Petersburg I stumbled across a nifty restaurant called the Brick House Pub, which was about as close to a British pub as I suspect you could get. I had the Fish and Chips, which consisted of a massive piece of deep-fried cod with fries and a plate of peas. The fish was quite tender and flavorful and I the quantity of both fish and chips was enormous. And then there were the peas. Now normally I'll go a long ways to avoid peas or anything else remotely healthy, but something inspired me to at least try these and they were incredible. I almost ordered another dish just of them because they were great. I must be getting old. There was a berry shortcake for dessert and some wonderful ales on tap. I had a couple and they were great but I had to forgo sampling them all because I was still driving. I heartily recommend the place if you want to experience British dining (They had a whole menu of British dishes) or just want a good meal at a good price in Petersburg.

Saturday morning, I arrived in Butner, North Carolina to shoot in the Civilian Marksmanship Program's Eastern Games at the North Carolina National Guard range at Camp Butner. Before checking in, I dropped Lagniappe off at a local motel. The manager--a nice fellow from India--wasn't too happy about having a dog stay in the room, but I told him that neither I nor the dog smoked and I assured him that Lagniappe would be quiet and non-destructive. Faced with the option of renting to us or us going elsewhere, the manager consented, asking me to tell Lagniappe to stay off the bed. I told him that Lagniappe was a floor dog, and he replied: "OK, but please...tell him not to be on the bed. Please."
"OK," I said. "I'll tell him."
The manager seemed happy with that. I guess they don't have many pet dogs in India because I don't think he understands much about a dog's comprehension ability.
Sure enough, a few minutes later when I was putting Lagniappe in the room, the manager walked up. "You told him no bed, right?"
This guy's killing me.
So I told Lagniappe to sit, and I sternly wagged a finger at him and laid down the rules. "Lagniappe, while I'm gone, you do not turn on the pay-per-view, you do not make long-distance phone calls, and you stay off the bed."
The manager then thanked me again, pronounced Lagniappe a very nice dog, and went back to his office. " honestly don't think he knows that all Lagniappe understood was: "Lagniappe, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah..." But hey, if it makes the manager happy...

I reported to the range check-in and got squadded for the first day's match. I was shooting an M1 Garand for this one. It was one of the ones returned to the United States from Denmark a few years back and it sports a virtually new VAR barrel.

And here's my set-up on the 200 Yard line before the match. downrange are the fifty electrically-controlled targets that we're firing at. For perspective, the nine-ring on the target is about the size of a dinner plate. The ten ring is centered inside the nine ring and it's half that size. There's an X-ring inside the ten and it's about silver-dollar sized. That's what every shooter's hoping to hit.



I got there early enough to take part in a last-minute instructional clinic taught by some of the CMP volunteers who are ranked shooters, including a few who are on service rifle teams in the various branches of the military.
This match started out so well for me. I was actually paired with an expert shooter named Jim who helps run the M1's for Vets program that refurbishes M1 rifles for wounded veterans. He helped me shake the rust off with a few tips and pointers, and when the firing began, that old M1 started laying solid hits on the nine and ten rings. Now I'd noticed before the shooting started that the web sling on the rifle was a bit frayed, and Jim noticed that when I tightened up on it, a tear was starting in one spot. Looking back, I should have replaced that sling right then with the new one off of my 1903 Springfield, but I decided that this particular one would get me though one more day of shooting. That was a decision that I regret now, as half way through the first stage, the sling snapped in half. I dropped steadily in scoring from that point, finishing just below the Bronze Medal ranking. If I'd only replaced that sling and put the new one on. If...

Ah well. Shake it off. There's still another shooting day ahead. After a tasty and filling beef brisket dinner at Bob's BBQ in Creedmore, (You've got to try their pecan pie!) I returned to the motel and I have to say that a hot shower and cool air conditioning never felt so good.

And Sunday came. I checked out of the motel and returned to the range. I was going to let Lagniappe remain in my van since the firing would be over by noon but the ladies in charge of the registration and squadding insisted that he stay with them in their air-conditioned hut. So I left him with them and went to shoot again, this time bringing the M1903A3 out. This one was made in 1943 by the Smith-Corona typewriter company and this was only it's second time out since I'd acquired it. It proved it's worth right off the bat in the prone slow-fire stage by shooting a string of 5 nines and 5 tens for a first-string score of 95 out of a possible 100. This was a phenomenal, nearly perfect start, and I could see the medal coming already.

The second stage was prone rapid-fire, and I dropped into position and cranked off my 10 shots in the alloted 80 seconds. I had a tight sling-hold on the rifle, and the sight picture left me no doubt as to where each of those rounds was going on the trigger break. However when the scoreboard was run up, I was stunned to see that I'd fired a series of misses. My shots had all dropped to the bottom edge of the target! Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?!

Examination of the rifle showed that the rear sight had come loose and dropped to the lowest setting, taking my shot pattern with it. In an instant, this match went from a serious medal run to nothing more than target practice. During the standing off-hand section, I was still able to keep all but two in either the nine or ten ring, but the lost points from the second stage were fatal.

"Cheer up," said the Marine Rifle Platoon Lieutenant scoring for me. If that was a person out there, you'd have still hit him with every shot. Yeah. I guess. And to be honest, it was a pretty good group centered right below the target rings at 6 o'clock.

So I was dogged by bad luck this time around, some of which was of course brought on by my failure to inspect and repair my rifles adequately. (I don't think I'd have caught the Springfield sight but that Garand sling was obvious. I deserved that one.)
But I had a good time, learned a few more tricks, and I know that if I can get my act together next time around, I've got the ability to take some awards home.

After the shooting, the CMP staff brought out guns and ammo for the competitors to buy. Lookie, lookie at all the nice Garands and M1 Carbines, many of which will find new homes with these CMP shooters. And I can't stress enough my thought that these people who I shared the range with this week-end are the people who the CMP was set up for and the ones who keep the CMP's programs going. I'd love to see a return to the days when we competitors could buy the rifles and ammunition way below market value like we used to, but unfortunately the profiteers ruined that by swooping down on our program to stock their gun show tables with or buying the rifles and stick them right up on Gunbroker.com. Now I understand that CMP has to move the material and that the goal is to do so on ways that will fund the programs in the future, so I'm not against selling at least some of the guns and ammunition at market prices to people who just want collectors' pieces or shooting toys, but what I'd really like to see is a two-tier system where verified regular competitors could still get the guns and ammo at low prices while the average members of the public still can buy some stuff but at market prices. That way the demand gets filled, we make extra money for CMP programs, and the real competitors can keep firing, subsidized by the non-competitors. And non-competitors need purchasing limits too. While I don't mind a little sharing, there's no reason why we need to let people who are indifferent to or even hostile to our sport dip into our ammo stocks to the tune of thousands of rounds per year each. Let non-competitors have a case our two of ammo and a rifle or two a year and call it a day. That's what I'd do if I ran the CMP. Oh well... I don't.

And when I returned to the office to get Lagniappe, I saw him frolicking outside with a couple of the ladies and a new ball they'd scrounged up for him.While I'd been lying out in the hot sun shooting and pulling targets, he'd been lounging and playing, and they'd even renamed him "Frank" because they couldn't pronounce "Lagniappe". Whoever said that it's a dog's life?