Sunday, January 6, 2013
Range time today, and bloody nice to know I aint'nt forgot how to work them things.
On the rifle range, ten rounds of West German plastic bullet training ammunition through the 1916 Spanish Mauser, just to see if it will shoot them. Nothing else I have in .308 will, at least not accurately. The 7.62mm Spanish Mauser put them into a couple inches at fifty yards, and that's good enough for playing in the back yard.
Moving to one hundred yards, and a 1944 Soviet Mosin Nagant ex-sniper. Firing at a silhouette target, I managed three groups I could put my hand over (Spread, I admit). Five rounds at midriff level, ten at center mass, and another five at upper chest level. This makes me happy, as I was shooting off hand without a sling. Not a shot would have been ineffective.
Over to a pistol bay, and a .357 snubbie. At fifteen yards, the first two shots showed me where the sights work, and the next 20 gutted an 8" paper plate. Firing quickly, as quickly as I could aim, all five stayed on the plate. Pleasant.
Over to the G-30, and testing the alignment of the Lasermax internal laser. Still sweet. Four rounds on the dot at 15 yards punched a wide hole, and left nothing more for the laser to glitter against. I had to switch targets.
Finished with the K-22, and one handed some sweet groups clustered on dots scribbled by sharpie on the paper plate.
As I was off handing holes into the target with the ancient Mosin, my mind wandered back in time a bit. More than a bit. A lot more than a bit. Like.... to when I was fifteen or so, and shooting on a range with my buddy and his dad.
Gui's dad didn't talk a lot, not compared to most people, but he sure taught lessons well.
I recall he shot a Remington 760 in 30-06, with a scope. He fired only two rounds, off hand at 100 yards, and then he put the rifle away. It was all he needed to see. He pitted the ace, nothing more and nothing less.
I also recall him saying groups mean nothing.... hitting the target is everything.