A shooty good day

So on my first actual day off in two weeks, I figure it's range time!

Took the Springfield Armory M-1A out to try out a new load I'm working up.

Survey says:

Seated off-hand using just the web sling, this 100-yard group is more than acceptable. And velocities are pretty consistent, so even though they are about a hundred feet per second faster than NATO spec, I think I'll go with it.

Then I got home and found notice from the Post Office telling me that they had a box for me. A big, ong box.

Oh joy, oh joy!

I went up there and got my newest restoration project...and this one is going to keep me busy for a few weeks.

First out of the box were these parts:

Not good, huh? That's the remains of an extractor, extractor collar, bolt catch box and magazine floorplate assembly. Someone reportedly fired an 8x57mm round through this rifle recently. And this would not have been a problem except that the rifle was one of these:

See the problem, folks?

Many of you are now facepalming over this, but for those of you who don't recognize it, it's a US Rifle Model 1917, chambered for .30-06, aka 7.62x63mm.

Yeah. Ouch. One of those situations where the wrong-sized round will chamber but destroy the rifle and potentially injure the shooter when fired. I am not aware of the status of the one who erred in this fashion but I now have the rifle and am going to try to rebuild it and clean it up.

Metal finish shows neglect and the wood's solid but kinda sad, so some work with sandpaper and ye olde linseed oil should clean the wood up nicely. The metal will get worked over with RB-17 and lots of light steel-wooling. None of the above-pictured small parts are salvageable save the magazine follower and spring.

The bolt catch box got it, too, sure sign of a bolt coming back fast and hard.

The ejector seems to be ok but considering the force that it was just subjected to, I'll replace it too since I'm already in there.

These old rifles were tough, which is why so many of their actions were used for magnum-caliber projects when they were surplussed out of military service after the Second World War. But they served well in that war and in World War One, where they were America's main infantry rifle, outnumbering the 1903 Springfields that they were meant to supplement. You see, when President Wilson took us into that war that he campaigned on keeping us out of, we were so short on Springfield rifles that we had to scramble to find something else to arm our newly-drafted army with. Fortunately private arms companies Winchester and Remington had just completed a contract manufacturing Pattern 14 rifles for the British and they still have the machinery and tooling. The Pattern 14 was chambered for the .303 cartridge but it didn't take much to re-tool to make the same rifle only in .30-06, and soon they were flowing out of three factories: the Winchester and Remington plants and the Baldwin Locomotive Works plant in Eddystone, PA., which was actually owned by Remington.

Model 1917 (top), Pattern 14 (bottom).

Most US Army troops went overseas with the Model 1917 and they saw tough service in their hands, including this guy:

Sgt. Alvin C. York, a conscientious objector from the backwoods of Tennessee who nonetheless went to war when the draft board refused to recognize his particular church. He distinguished himself by leading an attack that killed 25 Germans, captured 132 others and silenced 35 German machine guns. And he did it with a Model 1917.

The Marines kept their '03 Springfields though. And when the war was over, the Model 1917 was relegated to the warehouses while the Model 1903 continued on as "the" American service rifle.

US Rifle Model 1903 Springfield

This particular Model 1917 was manufactured in March of 1918 per the Civilian Marksmanship Program's definitive article on the rifle, and the barrel is dated February, 1918, which would be correct for a March-manufactured rifle. It may very well have done some time "over there" fighting the Boche, but it's here now and if I can salvage it, I'll be proud to add it to the collection.

Found in the Back Corner of the Gun Safe

An old friend of mine...

A Maadi AKM.

Back in the early 1990s, not long after a cloud had come over the land in the form of the election of one William Jefferson Clinton, a small group of us began to plan in earnest for the possibility of bad times. Now this was just a group of guys who liked to hike and camp and shoot, but the constant push out of Washington back then for more control over our lives, and more gun control and gun bans in particular, caused our regular hiking/camping trips to take a more serious tone, a "what if" tone.

We all knew that we could survive if need be, either as individuals or as a group, but we also knew that to operate as a group--a small unit, if you will--that we'd be best served by standardizing around one fighting rifle in particular.

Now that only makes sense, you say as you read this. If we all have the same rifle that shoots the same ammunition from the same magazines, it vastly simplifies logistics and training in every way. However the choice of which rifle to choose became the subject of many discussions around a campfire and many trips to the range, for each of us had our own preferred rifle, and in true American individualistic fashion, weren't any of us looking to admit that ours might not be the best--and only--choice for the group to adapt as primary.

And yeah, the fact that we were all young guys, none of whom could afford to buy another new rifle and all of the accessories that make it work, definitely factored into the equation.

One friend was a die-hard AR guy, having bought his back when your only real choice was to buy a new Colt AR-15A2 or a used Colt AR-15A1. They all came with 20" barrels--standard or heavy--and nobody else was making them.

I was equally adamant that the Springfield Armory M-1A was the only sensible choice, both because of it's accuracy and it's 7.62mm round, and because I already owned one.

A third member, just to be contrary, was heavily into one of the newer imports onto the American shooting scene, the AK-47, a rifle still new to American shores that shot ammunition that was not made here yet.

We argued, we compared, we took our respective rifles on many camping trips and hikes in which their various attributes--and flaws--came to light, but it wasn't until President Clinton and the Democrats passed one of their first attempts at banning the AK-type rifles that we all rushed out to buy our own, just because "weren't no one going to tell us what we could or could not have. 'Murrica!"

This ugly little stamped-metal AKM from Maadi of Egypt cost me $179.00 new, if I recall properly. It also came with a ridiculous "sporter" buttstock designed to give it more import points, but that stock went by the wayside just as soon as I could order a correct laminated "orange crate wood" stock and pistol grip for it. (That was perfectly legal back then, but the Democrats were just getting started.)

Surprisingly for me, because I was something of a "gun snob" at the time, I fell in love with the ugly little critter right off. It was a lot lighter and more compact than my M-1A, being almost a foot shorter and nearly four lbs. lighter, to say nothing of the weight of all of the extra magazines that we mindlessly schlepped around back then.

Note that as newbies, our "basic load" was determined by a simple formula:
1.) Buy a large ALICE pack.
2.) stuff it with as much gear in the way of canned food, camping gear and ammunition as possible, packing it until you could only lift it off the floor and shoulder it with difficulty.
3.) Adjust weight by removing as much non-gun stuff as you thought you could live without.

Until we learned better, this method ensured that we would always be cold, hungry, wet (if it rained) but well-armed, and if nothing else, we slept great at night because we were wiped out from hauling hundreds of rounds of rifle ammo up and down some wicked terrain "just in case".

Now I will own up to briefly switching to an M-1 carbine for these trips, as they were the lightest, smallest rifles out there, but I got tired of hearing "nice pistol" or "what's it going to be when it grows up?" every time I unslung it.

(Cost me $129.00 back then. Shoulda bought dozens.)

Yeah, we were feral men, and we lived under a code in which the weak and the non-conformists were mocked, and those weak enough to be mocked into conforming were mocked for that, too. As I recall, this ultimately resulted in us going on week-long winter camping trips along the shore of Lake Superior IN THE WINTER, just because...well because no one wanted to be the one wuss who suggested that we not do it, or suggest that we not do it again after surviving the most recent such trip. We all would have voted for that, but we'd have still mocked whoever dared propose it. So no one proposed it and we went every year for years, until that notable year when each of us brought his wife or significant other and the chicks all put THEIR feet down on about the third day and screamed "This lunacy stops NOW and we're all going HOME!"

Ah, but I digress.

Back to the AK.

For many years, this AK was my companion on camping trips into Michigan's northern woods, usually the Upper Peninsula. it was light, fast to employ, it hit reasonably hard and was effective at the ranges afforded us by northern Michigan terrain, and while it never fired a shot in anger, it did fire thousands of rounds into "hostile" cans and bottles, old junk cars, and countless other targets of opportunity as we guys trained and just plinked with our AKs. Mine even showed it's mettle one winter when a couple of us broke through some thin ice on a snow-covered creek that we hadn't even realized was there. My rifle went to the bottom along with my pack when I jettisoned it, and when it was snagged and dragged out some time later after I'd warmed myself and dried my clothes around a hastily-built fire, it fired off it's entire magazine without a hitch after I merely shook the water out of it. (Try THAT, AR fans!)

Of course times change. Eventually all of my friends married away, (and to be fair, I almost got trapped myself back then), and married guys with new families can't go out and run around the woods every week-end, so the trips came to an end. The AK, not terribly handy as a target rifle when I transitioned to Hi-Power match shooting, went into storage, and though it pokes it's head out of the safe every now and again, it's been years since it's chambered a round.

Methinks I need to do something about that, and soon.

A friend of mine here has a nice new Ruger Mini-30 that he just acquired. I'm thinking that we'll need to get out to the range soon, if for no other reason than for me to show him what kind of rifle that the 7.62x39mm round was actually made for.

A Good Range Day

Stopped by the range today, just to check something out on my M-1A.

I love this rifle. I've had it since the 1980's, buying it during the panic caused by George H.W.Bush signing the very first "Assault Weapons Ban" back during his presidency. I bought it new from a local gun shop, and I probably over-paid, but the price back then was $700.00 if I recall, and back then, Springfield Armory was still building them with GI parts; this one has an H&R barrel and a TRW bolt and the smaller bits are a mixed bag but the trigger was near match-grade and she served me well in competitions until I finally retired it after a particularly satisfying President's 100 match at Camp Perry in 2001. (Always go out on a good note, eh?)

I've only had it out a couple of times since, and that within the last year. But something seemed wrong, and my old friend wasn't shooting as accurately or consistently as I remembered. In fact, the last couple of range trips with it were pretty disappointing other than for the nostalgia value, enough so that it troubled me. You see, I love this rifle and clearly something was wrong.

I spent a fair bit of time wondering why it was shooting so bad, and my suspicion fell on the ammunition. The first time, it was reloads that I'd made for the M-60 and to be frank, I'd never cared for the bullets I'd used; they were military surplus ball projectiles from de-milled rounds and they'd been polished to a point where they were a bit more under-sized than I'd have liked. This wasn't an issue for machine gun fodder obviously, as pin-point accuracy isn't really something that MGs are designed to deliver, but maybe it was enough to throw this rifle off on the 100-yard range. So the second time out, I grabbed some de-linked MG ammo that I'd bought intact, figuring that it was nothing more than standard military FMJ in links, but again, the rifle shot like...well, like something a dog leaves in the yard. Now I was worrying that it was the rifle and not the ammo.

So today, I took it out again and started from scratch. I had some 1980's-vintage Winchester white-box stuff that was left over from my match practice days and I started out on the 25 yard line to re-zero the rifle as wit a .308, a 25-yard zero is pretty much identical to a 200-yard zero, and knocking two clicks of elevation off of that should put it right on at 100 yards. The first three rounds gave me a one-hole group a little low and right at 25 yards. A sight adjustment put the second two-shot, one-hole group right where I wanted it. This was how I remember this rifle shooting back in the day, and all it took was a switch back to decent ammo to get it back there again.

Moving over to the 100-yard line, I fired twenty-five more rounds, and with the exception of two flyers that were my fault, every round fell into the 6" 10x ring of the target I was firing on.

Did I mention that I love this rifle? It still shoots like a dream when I don't feed it crap ammo and I'm planning on taking it back out again tomorrow.

I also shot the Smith and Wesson M&P 40 again, and me and this pistol are starting to get to be friends. I scored a deal on a left-handed Gould and Goodrich leather holster for it so now I can at least carry it properly, and the session with this pistol following on the re-sighting of the M-1A had me leaving the range all happy.

So I went to the big-box store to buy a new gas grill because my old one developed a gas leak and set itself ablaze last night, and as I walked through the parking lot, I couldn't help but smile at these three stickers on a car I saw parked there:

There's always hope for America so long as enough of us keep the right perspective.

Oh--and I got my me new grill, too. And to break it in, I destroyed a rib-eye steak with it for dinner tonight. New grill look, same lousy results. One of these days I have got to learn how to cook or marry me some chick that knows. Sigh.

Still happy though.

Because Practice makes Proficient

I hit the range today with Proud Hillbilly and a couple of newish neighbors who have the potential to become really good shooters and hopefully even reliable team members come the bad times.

This time out, I took a real rifle, my Springfield Armory M-1A, and an old favorite pistol, my ex-New Orleand Police Department Beretta 92.

I do love the feel of a good two-stage trigger, especially one tuned for Camp Perry shooting. admittedly, it takes some getting used to after all those range sessions with ARs.

And the Beretta? Just plain fun.

The Beretta was old and shopworn long before I got it, but it's been overhauled and it's accurate and as reliable as anything else in the safe. And this M-1A was my Perry rifle for years before the darned ARs came along and took over Hi-Power. If the SHTF tomorrow and I could grab one fighting long gun on my way out the door, it'd be this one.

Come bad times, I know that I can depend on either of these self-defense tools without worrying, so long as I do my part. And since marksmanship is a perishable skill, I do my part regularly by getting out to the range every week or two. Those of you not training regularly have to know that when the time comes, you won't magically become totally fit and a crack shot; if you're not working out now and putting your time in on the range, you should expect to fail when you wind up against someone on the other side who has been doing those things. Just sayin'...

Range Day. An old friend comes out

I got a late start on things today, since I spent much of last night and a good chunk of the early morning hours at a housewarming party put on by some of the folks I work with for one of the crew who bought a new house about a mile from me.

I'm getting too old to shotgun beer after beer with them damned kids. Granted, I showed 'em how it was done, but damn, getting up this morning when Proud Hillbilly pulled in the driveway for a range trip was a bit harder than I remember it being after such sessions.

Anyway, this time, we hit the range and went to work on distance shooting. PH handles her M1 carbine quite well at ranges out to 100 yards, so we decided to hit the long range (200-400 yards) and I broke an old friend out f the safe--a rifle that I cherish dearly but have only fired one other time in the last decade:

It's my Springfield Armory M-1A--one of the very few firearms that I ever bought new in the box. I got it back in 1989, when George Bush Sr. signed off on the first Assault Weapons Ban, and even paying the ridiculous mark-up that the trendy gun shop in Royal Oak Michigan put on their firearms, I still got it for about half of what it would sell for used today. And it's one of the early ones, made with all USGI parts. The only thing that's "Springfield, Inc." on this rifle is the receiver and the stock. It sports a 1961-dated Harrington and Richardson barrel and a TRW bolt and trigger group.

Back when I bought this rifle, I was still living at home and bound by a strict weapons proliferation treaty that my father imposed on me as a condition for having any firearms at all under his roof. I was limited to three long guns--a Ruger 10-22 (which I still have), an old Western Field 12 gauge shotgun, and a beat-up, shot-out old Blue Sky imported M-1 Garand which I'd bought from Woolworths Department Store. The M-1 was a good rifle to learn to handle a rifle with, but it's bore was so worn that it's muzzle would swallow a .30-06 cartridge right up to the bottleneck(!) and it's stock and handguards rattled like a maraca. With that old rifle, I was hard-pressed to hit the target stand consistently at 100 yards, much less produce anything resembling a group. I needed an upgrade, and when the ban hit and prices on everything affected doubled and tripled, I ran out and got the very last M-1A that this shop had. (They also had one each H&K 91 and FN-FAL--actual Belgian, NIB--but I had to have the M-1A.)

This posed a question of what to do with the rifle, since I had not sought nor received permission to increase my arsenal inventory by 33%. And said arsenal at the time was subject to inspection by my father through the simple expedient of mandating that all three approved firearms remain on a three-gun rack on my bedroom wall at all times unless I was actually hunting or target shooting with one. But I was nothing if not sneaky back then, so the rattle-trap Garand disappeared into a hiding place in the basement and the similar-in-appearance M-1A took it's place on the wall rack. Without it's 20-round box magazine, it looked an awful lot like an M-1, and this went without notice or comment for a couple of months, until one day, after handling the M-1A, I made the mistake of leaving it's box magazine in place when I racked it on the wall. That evening, when I came home from somewhere, I was summoned by my father to my room and asked two questions: "Where did you get the M-14 and where's your M1?"
Yeah, my father had served in the Army National Guard back in the Vietnam days and had carried and trained on not only the M-1 Garand--a big factor in my being allowed to own that specific rifle--but also on the M-14 and its heavy-barreled M-15 variant. He hadn't really paid much attention to my rifle rack and the magazine-less M-1A had escaped his notice thus far, but the one day that I left the box magazine in that rifle, it caught his eye immediately. I was busted.



But my dad was really an ok guy, and after a discussion about my bringing the rifle into his house without his approval, and me showing him the DCM marksman-training manuals that I'd bought for it a current Shotgun News ad listing that rifle as now selling for over four times what I'd paid for it (Yes, youngsters, we've had panics and price inflation on firearms before Obama), he realized that I was becoming both a serious shooter and a savvy investor and the three-gun rack became a four-gun rack with the addition of another set of dowel pegs. The M-1 Garand went back on the rack and all four of my authorized firearms remained in plain view from then on. (My Springfield Armory 1911A1 was still hidden in a locking ammo can bolted to the firewall of my F-100 truck out in the driveway though. That one had to wait until the right time later to be "amnestied" into the house. But that story is for another day.)

This M-1A became my target rifle and SHTF weapon, and it was my only serious shooter right up until a fellow named Bill Clinton won the presidential election in 1992, at which time I bought a brand new Colt AR-15A2 HBAR, both as a protest and because I'd lost a bet with my best shooting buddy over that election. (The purpose of the bet was standardization for our shooting trips and survival plans. He was an AR-15 guy. Had I won, he'd have had to but an M-1A.) But by that time, I was out from under my dad's roof and I could and did buy whatever I wanted and could afford.

By this time, I was shooting High Power matches and M-1As were still serious competitors. I took this one all the way to Camp Perry in 2001 and shot the President's 100 with it, and I was never prouder than that day when I shot an 89 out of a possible 100 with it in the 600 meter relay, putting five shots into the 9-ring and three into the 10, with 1X. (The other two were 8-ring hits...and this was in that variable wind that Perry is famous for.) I've never shot that good before (or since) and had I done so well at the 200 meter and 300 Meter stages, I probably would have made the top 100.

Alas, I retired it from competition use in favor of the AR-15, and except for one 200-yard match that I shot with it in 2007 (coming in second place overall), it's just sat in the gun safe waiting for a day like today.

Well today I took it out. It took a bit of fiddling to get it back on target as I haven't shot it since I had my Lasix surgery and I'm just now learning that all of my rifles with a "pre-lasix" zero need a significant windage adjustment to the right. But once fiddled, it was on nicely at 200 yards, so then PH and I fired on two 400-yard targets, and being cocky, I dared her to bet lunch on the result of our firing at 400 yards. Gamely, she took the bet, although I could see that she was already calculating the cost of the meal. But as it turned out, I cranked in too much elevation and all of my rounds were "overs", tearing up the top of the target pretty nicely but impacting above the scoring rings. PH, on the other hand, managed to put a half a dozen of her fifteen or so rounds fired into her scoring rings though, making her the winner. I bought dinner at John's Restaurant.

It was an ignominious start to the renewal of my friendship with this old faithful rifle, but it felt good to shoulder it and sight it and caress that once-familiar trigger again. I suspect that I'll have it back out again before too long. I didn't realize until today how much I've missed it.