Shooty Monday

It was a nice day out, so Proud Hillbilly and I went out shooting. She brought her pistols and that M-1 carbine that she's so deadly with, and I brought out a few of my pistols, plus a couple of other items. Starting out with the pistols, top left, the 9mm Heckler & Koch P7M13. Top right, Glock Model 19 (also 9mm). Bottom is Smith and Wesson Model 642 in .38 Special.
I just got the P7 back from a rebuild courtesy of an H&K armorer friend of mine, and truth be told, I didn't realize what a sick gun it was. The fact that it has been shooting normally for months if not years with a gas piston so undersized that a gauge won't even seat on it any longer is a testament to that gun's solid design. As it was, the drop safety spring finally gave out due to the excess internal pressures, but even with that problem, the pistol continued to fire. As bad as I feel for not catching that problem earlier (I don't own the factory gauge used to catch the bad piston), I cannot help but be impressed with the pistol's ability to keep functioning well out of spec. But it's got a new piston and new drop safety now, so it's as good as new. And it shoots like new too, as the swinging steel target tree at the range can testify.

The Glock is my ex-Washington DC Police Department pistol that used to belong to a detective friend of mine until he decided that he wanted an Enfield rifle that I owned about as much as I wanted that Glock. We're both much happier today, even though I'm still unable to smooth out it's trigger pull no matter how many times I swap the disconnector out. But even with that gritty trigger, it still does the job on the swinging steel, even if it lacks the style of the P7.

The 642 was just in my pocket, like always, so I fired some of the .38 rounds that always seem to be in my range bag, just to stay current with it. So often we forget to practice with the ones that we carry the most, and those are likely to be the ones we're going to need to be the sharpest with, just by virtue of the fact that they're most likely to be at hand when trouble brews.

And in that vein, I took out the old Remington 870 house gun and ran 45 rounds of slugs and buckshot through it. This is one that I rely on for when things go bump in the night, so practice with it is always a good thing. As you can see, this gun has been modified with an extended magazine tube, a sidesaddle shell carrier and a speed-feed stock. It holds 16 rounds now, both buckshot and slugs, and the Surefire light on the fore-end makes for 100% target identification.

Then it was time for some heavy metal, and the M60 came out to play. I wanted to put a proper zero on it's barrel and also zero it's new Elcan M145 optic, but alas, I did not bring enough ammo with me to compete the job so I'll have to bring it out again...oh, darn.That Elcan is nice. 3.4x magnification means I can see the look on the target's face just before I send a burst into his right leg because that's as close as I got to centered before running out of ammo for the day. Please note that I'm not blaming my spotter, hereafter referred to by her indian name M'uuluk-atu'uka-look-i-not, which translates as: "I-didn't-see-where-those-went-either!" She honestly tried and her good shooting this trip out more than made up for my lack of same.


It was a good day out, made better by running into another mutual gun friend of ours on the range, followed by lunch at a favorite pub that boasts an awesome coffee stout beer. A good day, to be sure.

Training Day

It was 90 degrees in the shade today, and there was no shade at all on the range where I go to train.

I had the place to myself this morning, so that meant that I got to set up a real nice multi-position shooting course to run through. I put several 5-gallon pail targets downrange at various distances, from 10 meters to 90 meters (sadly, that's all the room there is here) and parked my truck perpendicular to the targets midway between a large rock on one side and an orange and white ex-construction barrel on the other side. A bit forward of this line--between the truck and the barrel--was a smaller dirt berm. Downrange of the barrel there was the remains of an old table that I put several empty drink cans on. They'd be my final targets. Then I set about to practice my cover and transition drills with the Uzi submachine gun, Remington 870 shotgun and H&K P7M13 pistol.

The drill ran as follows:

1. Starting from a seated position in the truck, exit the truck and engage two of the targets with the primary weapon (Uzi or shotgun).
2. Run to the rock. Taking cover behind the rock, engage two targets from there.
3. Run back to the truck. Kneel behind the tire and fire around the front bumper. Engage two targets.
4. Run to rear of truck and use it for cover while engaging two more target pails.
5. Run forward to the berm and go prone behind it. Roll out and engage any two visible targets left.
6. Get up, run back to the barrel, and drop the Uzi (it's on a sling) or set down the shotgun (it doesn't have a sling) and transition to the pistol. Using the barrel as cover, clear the table of the cans.
7. Reload as necessary during the run, but without stopping. If the primary weapon jams or goes completely empty before getting to the barrel, transition to the pistol and finish the course.

Sounds easy, right?

Hell...

Anyone can just stand and shoot static targets like drink cans, but when your heart rate is up and your chest is pounding, you're out of breath, and the sweat is just flowing down your face and into your eyes, hitting those same little cans can be a vexing exercise, indeed. Add in the heat and the rough terrain, and well...you've got reality staring back at you. And that's the idea; real-life gunfights don't take place on 15-meter indoor pistol ranges.

I ran this course eight times--three times with the Uzi, four times with the shotgun, and once with an M1 carbine. I stumbled once while running with the Uzi and fell on top of it, and I'm extremely grateful that Uziel Gal put a grip safety on that thing as the muzzle nailed me hard in my ribs when I hit the ground. (This is why we don't run with our fingers on the triggers, people.) But I got right back up again and finished the course.

With the Uzi and the carbine, there was just one mag change required midway through each run, but with the shotgun, I had to constantly strip rounds from the sidesaddle and stock tubes to top off the gun or feed through the ejection port as I ran. That's an essential fighting shotgun skill that few people practice adequately.

During the four shotgun runs, I fired 65 rounds of buckshot and slugs, and when I finished the last run, I actually burned my hand on the barrel, it was so hot. But those 870s, like the Uzis, just keep going.

Only twice out of the seven runs was I able to clean all of the cans off of the last stage with one shot per can. Every other times, I was shaking and muffed one or more. But that's why we train--to get faster, smoother and better.

When I finished, I went down to check out of the range. The desk staff was shocked to see that I was soaking wet and covered with sand. "What were you doing out there?" they asked.

My prosthetist asked the same question half an hour later when I showed up in his office for another "emergency" repair. Once again, I'd torn through the neoprene sleeve holding my leg in place by repeatedly kneeling and going prone on it. And once again, I was reminded that my leg wasn't designed for this sort of abuse. But until they come out with one that is, I guess I'll keep tearing this one up. Screw it--that's why I have insurance and plenty of spare sleeves and other parts for it at home. But for now, I guess that I probably should go out and try to find some knee pads that'll fit over it.

Oh well...other than a burned hand, a few cuts and scrapes, and some bruising in my ribs, I'm feeling great. Confidence is high.

So what'd you do today to make yourself a better you?

My lifesaving tools.

Glocks...why?

OK, the time has come to explain the facts of life to the Glock-lovers out there. I do this not because I hate Glocks (in the interest of full disclosure, I'll admit to owning two of them at present), but to reach out to the poor, misguided folks who worship the things as if God himself crafted the first one and handed it down to Adam on the 8th day.

And that is, of course, silly. Every true scholar knows that God gave Adam a Model 1911 in .45 ACP.

But I digress.

Glocks have their good points. With approximately 34 parts per pistol, They are simple. So simple in fact that R. Lee Ermey is a Glock spokesman. R. Lee is a pretty simple guy so I'm not surprised that he's signed on with Glock. Of course the serious checks they write to him probably factor in there to some extent.

Glocks are also reliable. Seriously, you can't kill one. They are routinely torture-tested by gun mags and abused by police officers, more of whom carry Glocks these days than anything else, and they keep on shooting. Remember the old Timex watch slogan? "Takes a licking, but keeps on ticking." Well Glocks keep ticking too, often long after similar guns would have broken. They really are that good.

So what's my beef with them, you ask? It's simple:

Glocks have no soul.

Sure, the Glock is reliable, and it will probably never let you down, but it just lacks the aesthetic appeal of traditional sidearms like the Colt Peacemaker, the aforementioned 1911, the Browning Hi-Power, the Walther PPK or P-38, the Luger, and many other classic pistols. Traditional pistols tend to be designed with style in mind as much as performance. But the Glock? Heck, it's a squared-off hunk of steel and plastic with a matte black finish that has all of the grace and charm of some fifth-grader's shop class project. Visually appealing, they ain't.

Seriously, the Glock has all of the romance and sex appeal of your father's Oldsmobile. And yeah, if it's your first gun, I can see the allure, but like that "cool" AOL account that you used to use when you first discovered the internet, eventually you need to grow beyond it.

And that brings to mind another issue--the price.

Right now, Glocks are probably the cheapest service pistols out there. This is another reason why just about every novice shooter has one. You can buy 'em even if you're on a budget. And if you're a police officer...well Glock damn near gives them to police departments for free, just to get the service contracts and accessory sales.

And you probably thought that most police officers carry them because someone decided that they were the best pistols on the market, didn't you? Ha! Money talks and municipal bean-counters love bargains.

So what we really have is a rather ugly black plastic and steel pistol that works and works well, but it's about as cool as a moped, especially when stacked up against elegant and sophisticated sidearms like my personal favorite, the H&K P7. The P7 has been called "the sniper rifle of pistols", and I often tell folks that it a true specialists' weapon--elegant and precise, the equivalent of a Jedi Knight's light saber. Serious gun enthusiasts who recognize the P7 in the holster of a shooter instinctively know that said shooter is a man (or woman) with sophisticated taste. By that same standard, the Glock identifies it's owner as well: Joe six-pack. A guy (or gal) who goes through life meeting expectations but rarely if ever exceeds them. Parents approve of their daughters dating Glock owners, because Glock owners, like their Glocks, are safe and predictable. They don't scream "Man of action!" like the 1911 does, or "Renaissance Man" like the Hi-Power does. Nah. There are few surprises from the Glock, and that's primarily my objection to them. While I won't ever deny that they are effective and affordable, the fact is that they're just too plain and commonplace for a discriminating shooter like myself.

Granted, if I had to defend myself in a pinch, I'd feel more than ready with a Glock in hand, but until that day comes around again, I'll just continue to smile condescendingly at those folks who carry Glocks and go "Tsk, tsk, tsk..." when they're out of earshot.

What a satisfying day

So I get up this morning and get the news from Michelle Malkin that Elvira Arellano was officially deported and is now back in her rightful place--Mexico. If she comes back again I hope that she gets prison time, ideally in Maricopa County, Arizona where Sheriff Joe Arpaio knows how to handle his prisoners.

Then I head for the bus, and get to the stop just in time to catch a seat next to my pal, the bus bitch. As usual, she was pretending to be snoozing with her handbag parked on the seat next to her to make sure that no one who really needs the extra leg room can get the seat. I rather loudly asked her if she wouldn't mind moving her bag so that I could sit down, and the look that she gave me...Oh man, if looks could kill I'd have dropped right there. I thought for a second that she was going to say something but she didn't. However her hostile glare spoke volumes. How dare I ask her to move her bag and make her give up one of the two best seats on the bus? Obviously I was unaware that she's the queen of Loudon County's DC10 Bus and owns both those seats even though she had no apparent disability and isn't even that tall. So I plunked down next to her, enjoying her body language that conveyed all too clearly just how bothered she was. In fact I felt so guilty that I started to cough, and I for some reason I coughed off and on most of the way to my stop.

Then I get the amusing news that the GreenStone radio network, a year-old joint venture between Jane Fonda and Gloria Steinem, accepted it's failure and closed down today. Apparently no one wanted to listen to or advertise on shows that just bitched and whined. Heck, any married guy gets enough of that already without having to dial more up on his car radio. Of course the show's producers claim that women just can't get ahead in today's radio market, but they overlook the fact that there are many wildly successful women on the radio, including Laura Ingram, Tammy Bruce and Laura Schlessinger. The difference between those women and "Hanoi Jane" Fonda is that Ingram, Bruce and Schlessinger say intelligent things and talk about topics that people actually want to hear. So Bye-Bye, Gloria and Jane. You won't be missed, and frankly I didn't even know that you two bimbettes had a show until news of it's failure broke today.

In other good news, the weather's finally cooling off, and I got to get out and shoot this week-end. I didn't get any pictures of me shooting but it was good because the old fuddy-duddies who cry and pee themselves any time I practice any tactical shooting there (because we all know that guns were meant to be fired slowly from a rest at paper targets...) were absent so I got to practice my "shoot-and-scoot" fire-on-the-move drills, and I shot my H&K P7 until it was hot enough to burn my finger. Then I let it cool for a bit and shot it until it burned me some more. I love my P7 and it's one--and only--flaw in my opinion is the fact that due to it's gas system, the top of the frame above the trigger guard gets dangerously hot after several dozen rapid-fire rounds. In actual pistol combat it's unlikely that a shooter will fire that many rounds, but it is a pain on the practice courses.

And since I have no photos from that shoot, here's a gratuitous picture of my nephew, The Spud, learning how to lay down suppressing fire with the Browning 1919A4 heavy machine gun.

Back from the range

Well it was a nice day out, so I went out to check out a new range not too far from me. Actually "range" is too kind--it's one step away from being a landfill. The owners let anyone bring out whatever they want to shoot at so the area is covered with old computers, small appliances, bottles and cans of every sort, and lots of other miscellaneous junk. Add to this the fact that the shooters just before me found and killed a 4.5ft. timber rattler that was underneath the sole picnic table there(I saw it) and you get the picture.

But on the other hand, they allow rapid fire and position shooting, something that the range nazis at the Izaak Walton club do not. So it's worth it in the balance.

I started out with this beautiful old warhorse. It's a #4 MK1 Enfield .303 rifle made for the British forces in World War Two. This particular one was actually manufactured by the Savage Arms Company in Utica, New York. As it was made back in the early days of the war when the United States was still technically adhering to a policy of not providing arms to any belligerent nation (This would have included Britain and Germany equally but for President Roosevelt's decision to covertly aid England), the guns were all maked "US Property" to facilitate the fiction that they were *really* our guns that we were just loaning to the British.
Of course the fact that the US did not ever use either the Enfield or the .303 cartridge exposed that lie right off. But it didn't stop the shipments of these guns from New York to England and this is one of the rifles that actually made it past the blockading U-Boats and got to England. I know this because it has British proof marks on the barrel--a sure sign that they received and tested it. Somehow it got back here to the States again and I picked it up a few years ago at a private sale. But I hadn't actually fired it until today, and let me tell you--for a rifle with non-adjustable sights, it was dead on at 100 yards. My preferred target was a chunk of cast iron a foot tall and about four inches wide that someone had obligingly painted bright orange to help me see it clearly, and almost every shot was rewarded with a crisp, loud ringing sound as the bullets impacted that chunk of iron a football field away. No doubt about it--this rifle's a keeper.

After burning through 50 rounds of 1950's surplus ammunition I put the Enfield up and broke out my little Israeli friend.
This is the venerable Uzi submachine gun, the real reason that I'm shooting on this "range". Actually this one is an Israeli receiver with South African parts which was assembled in Salt Lake City, USA, and it's one of the best submachine guns available to shooters as it's simple, reliable, and parts and accessories are still widely and cheaply available for it. I just put the wooden stock on it a few weeks ago, replacing the standard metal folding one. I'm not sure that I'm sold on this wood stock yet. It's awfully short and will take
some getting used to. I know that it was made to be short so that the weapon could be employed from inside automobiles and armored vehicles, but it's still an awkward fit to someone like me who is used to longer rifle stocks.

I burned a few hundred rounds of 9mm ammunition, blasting various items in the junk piles nearby until the ammo was gone. Sadly, ammo never seems to last long when the Uzi's in use. But then again, that's part of the little gun's charm.

As I was emptying my range bag, I found another small bag of 9mm ammunition which I had initially mistaken for SMG ammunition. Turned out that it was nice clean Winchester commercial stuff, so I downloaded my Heckler and Koch P7 PSP and finished off the targets that the Uzi had only wounded.
This particular P7 is an ex-GSG9 gun, having been formerly issued to and used by a member of the elite West German anti-terrorist unit Grenzschutzgruppe 9. It carries their mark on it's slide and it's worn enough that I have no problem believing that it really was. It's a precision weapon and the exact opposite of the Uzi in that it can put individual bullets precisely where the operator (me) wants them, and I carry it as my primary self-defense sidearm for that reason. I probably shouldn't have shot this one too, as now I have three guns to clean, but it's just such an enjoyable weapon to shoot. I couldn't resist.

Now I'm home, and getting ready to break out the cleaning supplies. But it was a great day to shoot, the weapons all functioned perfectly, and I'm not ashamed to say that I shot exceptionally well with all three of them. Figures that there's never anyone else around whenever I'm on top of my game like I was today.

Today was a man day

I'll carry on with the Ray-Nagin bashing soon enough. For those of you who want to read that, scroll down because there's plenty. But I took a break from it today because it was one of those days when it felt good to be a man and do manly things.





I started off with a trip out to the airport, where I rented this nice plane.







Everything checked out nicely during pre-flight so off I went.












Look--it's Lagniappe's Lair! You can almost make out Lagniappe through the window. He'd better not be on my couch!










If you click on the pictures, they will get bigger.


I overflew Harpers Ferry for a bit. You're looking at three different states here. The town in in West Virginia. Across the river to the north (left in this pic) is Maryland, and down the Potomac River, the land on the south (right) side of that far bridge is Virginia.




Here's where the Shenandoah River comes into the Potomac. Note the pilings of the old bridge, washed out decades ago by floodwaters. The rivers and their periodic floods have practically erased the Harpers Ferry that Thomas Jefferson, Merriwether Lewis, Robert E. Lee and John Brown knew.




To the right of the river you can make out the old C&O Canal and it's towpath. It's dry now, but it used to carry commerce 184 miles from Cumberland, MD all the way into Washington, DC. The towpath still goes the entire way and it's a great hiking/biking trail.





After this, I flew out to Hancock, Maryland and shot some touch-and-go landings on their runway. Then I took the plane back to Martinsburg called it a day from flying.

From there I went to my gun club for a bit of shooting. Men fly and men shoot. And this was a man day.

I shot this nifty FAL that I built from spare pieces and parts a couple of weeks ago. Took a bit of fiddling with the gas tube assembly to get it shooting, and a bit more flddling with the front sight post to get it shooting where it was aimed, but it's dead-on now. I know...it looks like hell. But now that I know it shoots, I'll pull it back apart and re-finish the whole thing so it's all a nice new parkerized gray. I'll probably replace the plastic stock and handguards with some nice walnut too. Real men shoot guns made with wood.


And since I wanted to shoot some more, I broke out the CZ-85 and the H&K P7M13 and thoroughly killed a few more paper targets. These two guns are both 9mm. Normally I'm not a fan of 9mm. I know that European police and military forces have used it for close to a century now, and it's a good cartridge if you're only shooting Europeans, but for defense against American bad guys, the .45 is still king. When you hit someone with a .45, they stay hit. But I didn't have a .45 today. I had these guns. And I like them enough that I don't mind that they're only 9mm.


After that, since I was done flying and shooting for the day, I stopped off at the local bar and had a manly burger and a few beers, served to me by some seriously fine specimens of womanhood wearing tight shorts and even tighter t-shirts. Alas I could not take photographs in there so you readers will have to use your imaginations, but I can tell you that looking at them was worth every penny of the extra few bucks added to the price of the drinks.

All in all, it was a good day to be a man and do manly things.


And Lagniappe says that it was a good day to play basketball. We did some of that, too