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From BB's to M-16's


I guess I was about 8 or 9 when Dad got me a Daisy BB gun for Christmas. He took a cardboard box and filled it with newspaper then drew a target on the larger flat side.  In our carport he set it up on a chair about 30 feet toward the back yard and then showed me how to aim and shoot.  It wasn’t long before I got pretty good and learned about anticipating the drop from longer distances.  It also wasn’t long before it got old firing into a target on a stationary box.  Dad eventually showed me how to kill sparrows and robins, both of which were common in our neighborhood.  We avoided the cardinals because they were somewhat sacred… St. Louis Cardinals and all.  But when you see a bird on a wire he was just begging to get shot.  Ironic…Robins were an endangered species in Robinwood with me around.



A few years later I got a bow and arrow set.  About all I could do with it was target practice though.  It was a little more dangerous than the BB gun though most of the sparrows were spared since they were much harder to hit.  I say most because I did hit one once with an arrow… took his head right off.  Lucky shot. Once I also shot at a rabbit running across the yard and actually hit it too.  The arrow stuck in his back leg and the little sucker ran away with my arrow.  That was cruel, I know. 



Guns were not a big part of my childhood.  Once my Dad and Uncle Bill took Tim and me hunting for rabbits.  They had shotguns.  We had BB guns so the rabbits were safe from us.  We were there only to flush the bunnies out of the brush.  But the adults had a good time blowing the shit out of 4 little bunnies that scurried out.  We took the dead rabbits back to Uncle Bill’s house where he showed us how to skin them.  Then, before they could be cooked he had to pick out all of the buck shot so we didn’t bite down on it.  That’s when I decided that hunting wasn’t my thing and I never ate rabbit again either.  Tastes like chicken…



I was good with a rifle though.  During basic training in the Army we had to qualify with an M-16 rifle.  I remember laying in the snow at Ft. Leonard Wood, MO in January of 1972, with the temperature around 10 degrees and my fingers freezing.  All of us lined up on our bellies, trying to hit pop-up targets at 100 yards.  My experience with sparrows kicked in and I scored well.  Most of the guys were good or just barely qualified and achieved the Sharpshooter or Marksman level.  I scored higher and was an Expert.  Thanks to my Dad and all of those dead birds.  I liked the challenge and competition but I’m not a gun guy.

Expert!

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