Jennifer asked the question, “But whether I’ve met you or not, I want to know your story. The vast majority of my readers are firearms enthusiasts of some stripe. How did that happen? How did you become gunnies?”
This is Part II of my answer. I joined the Marines in 1977. Sometime around the middle of September we went to the rifle range for two weeks. Back in the early days of this blog when I had no readers I wrote about the rifle range. No one has ever read that post, so I will quote it here because I don’t think I can say it any better. I enjoyed everything about my time at the range, learned much that I still use.
I had no experience with rifle shooting to compare to the ruthless perfection I was exposed to in the Marine Corps. Here’s my memory of those days.
Marine rifle training is rigorous. There is a tradition, “Every Marine a Rifleman”. Basic proficiency with the service rifle is systematically taught, and before a recruit can graduate and be called a Marine, he must be a rifleman.
Reveille was 0445, florescent light filling the barracks and signaling the beginning of another day. No need for trash can bouncing or hollering. That was weeks ago, when we were new. Now, like trained animals, turning on the overhead lights is all it takes to bring us up out of the racks to the position of attention.
Chow and PT take an hour. By 0600 we are in uniform with our rifles marching out to the rifle range. In the late summer at Parris Island those early hours are the best part of the day. The sun comes up through the live oak trees, moisture sparkling on the spanish moss. The dampness in the grass begins to evaporate, and the heat of the day, though on it’s way, has not yet arrived.
The platoon takes it’s place, preparing to shoot off-hand (standing) at 200 yards. Each pair of recruits with a shooting coach, the Drill Instructors pacing along behind the line. There is a history here, deep traditions and institutional memory merging, the experiences of today blending back to all the men who came here before, shot on on these ranges, and passed on.
The recruits get into position, setting their slings, checking the adjustments on their sights. Another group of recruits has taken positions behind the berm where the targets are mounted. When everyone is safely in position, the red range flag is raised. In a tower behind the shooting line, the range officer surveys the line. In a practiced voice he rolls off the range commands that I can still hear so clearly.
Is the line ready? The line is ready. Ready on the right, ready on the left. All ready on the firing line. With a magazine and one round, lock and load. Commence fire.
There is the sound of bolts closing, and then, as the targets appear, the first crack of rifle fire. There is a rhythm and pattern that everyone involved becomes familiar with. The minutes pass, and then come the commands, rolling out again.
Cease fire, cease fire. Unload, clear and lock. Set your weapons on safe.
The marksmanship instructors check the line, double checking each rifle. It is time to move back, another hundred yards. The sun is fully up now, the temperature rising through the 90s. There is more to do at 300 yards, and then at 500. Iron sights with an M-16 at 500 yards. Two weeks ago, it seemed impossible. Today, some recruit will shoot a perfect score at that distance.
The deadliest weapon in the world is a Marine and his rifle!
–General Pershing, US Army