At the Range

A Young Warrior at the Range:

I went out to the gun range the other day, with a full selection of firearms: rifle, shotgun, and revolver. It's a small but nice range, and when I got there I saw that the shotgun section was occupied by a group of young men with military haircuts. They turned out to be Army Reservists.

I went to the rifle range and zeroed my rifle, and then went over to the pistol range. By this time, the young soldiers had finished their shotgunning, and were also at the pistol range. They were shooting a stainless 1911 variant, and the youngest (and tallest) of the three was missing everything. At fifteen feet. From a rest.

"Dude, stop hitting the wood," one laughed, meaning the planks between which the targets were stapled. "No, really, stop it."

The young soldier with the .45 finally set it down, and told one of his companions to finish up the magazine. He was rattled.

I popped off a few rounds from my Ruger Single Six, which is a .22 revolver while the other soldier finished the last two rounds that were left. Then, as they were reloading, I called the young soldier over.

"Try mine," I said. "Sometimes the .45 can be a handful if you're starting out. A .22 barely has any recoil, and so it lets you get your skills down. Once they're polished, you can easily swap up to the .45 pistol."

He looked a little unsure, just as I remember being unsure when I was given similar advice at about the same age. I wanted to be able to handle the hottest rounds out of the heaviest calibers, like I'd been born to it! It seemed like an insult to start off on a .22, which was like a toy gun next to a combat pistol.

Still, here I was shooting it, and he could see from my target that I knew something about shooting. Must not be anything to be ashamed of, then. You could see it all play out on his face.

He loaded the revolver and went through a cylinder. It wasn't a good group, but they were all in the eight ring or better. He was obviously impressed with how well he'd done, once the recoil wasn't a factor.

"See?" I said. "You're shooting pretty well, now. Just practice with a .22 until you get your skills down, and then you'll have no trouble with the .45."

He looked at me and said, "Thank you, sir." That's all he said, but you could see the new confidence in his eyes. He'd put down that .45 feeling like a failure, but he put down the revolver feeling like a man.

I can't express how proud I was to help him, even in that small a way.