Things I learned today while firing my 1943 Mosin Nagant for the first time

Today was the day I set aside for me and my Mosin Nagant. After hours of painstakingly cleaning and restoring this WWII firearm, I took it out to the rifle range for the first time. As an advocate of lifelong-learning, I can report that the rifle range at Eagle, Wisconsin, became a learning lab for life lessons in short order.

To wit:

1. Take your time, 'cause you're going to need it -- Rapid fire on a bolt-action Mosin Nagant approaches the speed of muzzle-loading musketry. With my AR-15, I can empty a 30-round clip in a matter of seconds. With the balky action of the MG, I average two rounds a minute.

2. Bring heavy tackle in your range box -- The bolt action is renowned for actually tightening up as you shoot, instead of the other way 'round. By the end of my range time, despite pounding several boxes of ammo downrange, I was having to pound on the bolt lever with my fist to cycle the next round. (I now have a lever-shaped bruise on my right fist). Next time, I'm going to use my truck's bumper jack.

3. Moose? Mule? Forget it! -- The Mosin Nagant is legendary for having a recoil like a (insert your angry wildlife of choice here.) Not even close. Even though I was prepared for it, the recoil physically knocked me back at the firing bench every time. Mule? Feh! Moose? Hah! This rifle kicks like a pissed-off pickup truck, and I loved every minute of it!

4. Perspective plays funny tricks on MG shooters -- I actually had the good fortune to stand inside Turret #2 on the Battleship Wisconsin when she fired her 16-inch, 66-foot-long cannons in a ferocious broadside barrage. I recall the dumpster-sized breach of the gun looking like a runaway semi-truck as the massive recoil sent it hurtling towards me. Today, with the steel bolt of the Mosin Nagant only inches from my eye, it had much the same look and feel (and sound levels)

5. Always check your pockets first -- When firing this rifle, always, ALWAYS go through your shirt pockets first. I didn't and now am sporting a bruise on my right shoulder in the shape of a Sensa all-aluminum ballpoint pen. A glance at the photo above will show me cradling, not only the Mosin Nagant, but also a wounded shoulder. After a full day at the range, your chiropractor is your new best friend.

6. The Mosin Nagant aims high ... real high -- The rear sights are calibrated out to 1,000 meters, and legend has it the bullet will actually travel that far and hit what you aim at. But the ungodly amount of power this round has cause it to aim somewhat high on a mere 100-yard rifle range. Thus this rifle would make a handy anti-aircraft gun -- if you could just figure out a way to get the aircraft to hold still long enough for you to cycle the bolt lever.

7. Zombies? Schmombies! -- Commonly held wisdom says that, when the zombie apocalypse comes, and the walking dead are shouldering the living aside for the best seats on the bus, we (the armed living, that is) should aim for their heads to put them down. Hah! All I have to do with my Mosin Nagant is aim for the center of a reasonably-sized group of zombies, and the bullet's shockwave will knock 'em all down like ninepins.

8. What's in a name(s)? -- My ancient rifle-shaped relic generated much good-natured talk out on the rifle range today. It's amazing how creative people can become when trying to pronounce a name that's half-Russian, half-Belgian. "MOH-sin naa-GANT," or "MOY-zeen no-GAUNT," or (perhaps attempting to attach some sort of Hebrew heritage to my rifle,) "MOH-ses NEW-gun" were just a few of the attempts. For the last time, it's pronounced "

MOH-zeen NAH-gone," or even, "This-goddam-sawed-off-cross-between-a-howitzer-and-a-railroad-tie."

9. Maybe the safest place to be is right in front of the targets -- After watching my fellow shooters, I reasoned that Wisconsin's nine-day Deer Hunting Season, which opens in a few days, is a great time to stay out of the woods. In short order, I witnessed: a nearby shooter staring down the barrel of his (loaded) rifle to see if there was a bullet in the chamber; a fellow shooter startled by his rifle's recoil, get knocked back and fire a quick second round through the roof of the range; and a third shooter cursing and swearing at his rifle (which was chambered in Winchester .30-30,) because it refused to chamber a round. A quick examination showed that he was attempting to load a .30-06 shell into the chamber. "Well, THAT wouldn't have ended well," muttered the range safety officer, walking away and shaking his head.

I quite agree.

"Peace is that brief glorious moment in history when everybody stands around reloading".

Veterans Day is here again, and a glance on the 'Net or in your local newspaper will reveal that most people think: (A) Memorial Day is a time to plan a picnic or barbecue, and (B) Veterans Day is a time for a sale at your local retail outlet.

I guess I'm sort of OK with that. Sort of.

To my fellow citizens, speaking as someone who is a veteran and who also happens to work in a retail outlet, I say, "Thank you for your ecomonic stimulus by shopping."

But I hasten to remind you also, take a look at your parents and grandparents and -- especially if they fought in WWII, Korea or Vietnam -- take a moment and thank them for their service to a country which all-too-often breaks its promises to military people. Then ask your parents and grandparents to share some military stories with you. (Don't expect too many combat stories. That's something not often shared.)

But there's a lot to talk about with them.

I hear that WWII veterans are leaving us at the rate of about 1,000-per-day, taking their experiences and their wisdom from our ken. Make SURE you and your families assemble an oral history of their experiences before it's all gone for good.

And to my fellow veterans, I would add: "It's OK that they don't always remember us. We got what we wanted...a free country."

Musings on a new rifle rack

Let me be clear ... there was absolutely NO blank spot on my office wall crying out for more clutter. Shifting things around on the wall to make room was tantamount to a sheriff's eviction of some poor squatter (on my wall, mind you, not necessarily in my office) in order to make room for the new rack. (That's RIFLE rack! Get your minds out of the gutter!)

But the wall wanted a rifle rack. Everytime I glanced over at my Geoff Hunt Napoleonic Navy prints, with row upon row of US Navy coffee mugs displayed below them, I saw in my mind five or six stacked, gleaming, metal-wood-and-plastic beauties in their place.

Mind you, there was nothing wrong with the rifles' previous storage. Kathy and I built an "armory" when we first moved in here, that would provide all the firearms a safe, dry storage area, standing (locked!) in their transport cases.

Gun owners will understand, tho. Fully HALF the joy of owning a quality firearm is just GAZING at the darned thing -- polished and lethal-looking -- in a place of pride where you and the rest of the world can see it.

Even though I've read the Aubrey/Maturin series of novels of the British Navy in the Napoleonic era 15 or 16 times, I never would look at the Hunt prints in my office and imagine myself aboard a square-rigged ship of the line. (For a modern sailor like myself, it always seems like WAAAY too much work, and some of the wormiest, lousiest food in the world.)

But like the fine pieces of machinery they are, fine rifles displayed on a wall (you should pardon the expression) "fire" the imagination.

Looking at the AR-15, I can almost feel the semi-anemic recoil, and hear the high-pitched "Clack" it makes as the bolt comes flying back. Looking at the M-14, I can almost feel the smooth, oiled action and hear the roar as it pounds rounds downrange. I can sense the weight of the darned thing, and the natural way it shoulders and fits itself to my hands. Looking WAAAY up at the 1943 Mosin/Nagant on the top rack, my shoulder twinges at the thought of firing the beast in the spring ... and I can't wait to feel the ache in my shoulder from a full day at the range with it. (Provided some historian can unearth some ammo for it.) Looking at the thorougly modern Steyr's blunt muzzle, I am reminded that the Assault Weapons Ban has finally expired, and that it now would be legal to put a genuine flash hider of muzzle brake on this rifle. (The current blank barrel just looks so ... abrupt. I mean, this rifle wants a HAT!)

So one of the Geoff Hunt prints came down, and a homemade rack went up on the wall, perched right over my red rolling tool cabinet/camera storage unit.

Some pounding and cursing later, the rifles now adorn my office wall: Mosin/Nagant M91/30; Springfield Armory M-1A (the civilian version of the veteran M-14); DPMS AR-15 carbine; Steyr USR rifle; and the Fabrique Nationale PS-90.

Looking at the rifles now, I have discovered that (RATS!) some rifles just don't sit well with others.

The top two, all fine oak, mahoghany and blued steel, are just classic and timeless. Holding them, one can almost smell smoke from campfires and battlefields around the world.

But the other three look like something from Star Wars: all swept back fiberglass and scoped steel. Perched under the older models, they almost look WRONG!

(Sigh)

Well, they're just going to have to learn from their diversity, 'cause there's way too much clutter on my office walls to fit another rifle rack. (Although, maybe the Hunt prints all want to go into storage awhile. Hmmmmm)