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His Very Last Range Visit

Discussion in 'General Gun Discussions' started by P95Carry, Mar 10, 2004.

  1. P95Carry

    P95Carry Moderator Emeritus

    Jan 3, 2003
    South PA, and a bit West of center!
    sm has written some superb pieces, which I and many have greatly enjoyed. Steve .. your efforts have inspired me to write up the following, which is one of those ''clear as day'' anecdotes ... simply to be able to share it with you guys.

    (This is reconstructed from some very clear images I have, tho any dialog is pretty much ''how it would have been'' as against a verbatim record!)

    You'd find it difficult to imagine the old range ... it really needs a picture.

    Long ago it was a military range which was at least 100 yds, but land was sold and playing fields took most of it. What was left, which we used, was a rear covered section in front of which was a trench, brick lined and also under cover. From there to the target turning system was 25 yds. Oddest thing to many though would have been the huge brick wall behind a generous berm.

    It was a Saturday in the early 80's and one of many I remember with utmost clarity - ostensibly just a regular meeting at the club, general plinking in the morning with the prospect of some good competition shooting later in the day. Being early spring, there was still frost on the ground but a strengthening sun was quickly dispersing that and the weather looked fair.

    Tim, Roger, Bob and I were as usual the first there, and got things organised. Target frames were put out, and the red flag hoisted near the driveway gate .... we always had a visual display that live fire was taking place. Guess that was mainly to try and avoid hassles with the local horse riding fraternity but once we got under way, there was rarely any mistake that shooting was going on!

    Next to arrive was Paul, with George his Dad - pretty much the founder member of the club. George had not been to shoot yet that year, having been confined to a wheelchair since the amputation of his legs the previous fall ..... diabetes had been cruel to him, although he had made it thru as far as his 79th birthday, just before surgery.

    We all helped manhandle George's wheelchair up the three awkward steps into the range .. barely getting thru the door, and settled him at the back with a coffee. He was alert but looking very pale, cracking his usual jokes (a wicked sense of humor this man had) but with less gusto than of old. I helped Paul get the guns and gear from his car and whilst we were out of earshot of George, he expressed his concerns, feeling that this would likely be the last time his Dad made it to actually shoot.

    Once the gear was all inside we prepared to kick off the first session .... only Alan, the local cop had since arrived so we were good to go and wouldn't wait for any others.

    The trench was too deep and too narrow to let us install George in the trench, which would have been best from choice, but instead we shunted the wheelchair round the top and set it up just in front of the trench ... probably close to the 20 yard line. None of us was in a hurry to shoot and unanimously and silently, felt that this was George's shoot for now.

    I offered to be ''loader'' and sat on the ground on a tarp to his right, with his ammo, and three guns to hand. Bob had gone down to the targets to pin up a couple of fresh sillhouettes and a bullseye.

    ''Which one first George''? I asked, pointing to his guns.

    ''Blackhawk please Chris''.

    I picked it up and passed it to him, having established Bob was back now, and behind the line. I opened his box of 50 homeloaded .44 mags ... yes, he still did his reloading! He proceeded to rather shakily stoke up with five rounds .. he always had done that - old habit I guess from way back. Roger was in the trench with a spotting scope, ready to call the shots.

    Now this was strange in a way .. from a shaky load ritual, George brought up the gun in a well established two hand hold, and cocked for his first shot - and yet, hardly a movement at all now. The control was almost uncanny, considering his condition.

    He proceeded to shoot off all five .. and these were ''stout'' loads too! Roger called out the score .. something like two nines, an eight and a coupla fliers in the white. ''Not bad at all'' said I.

    ''[expletive] that'' said George, seeming to liven up a lot. ''I'll not have shots in the white, let's load up again.''

    I took the gun and emptied it for him .. he seemed more than willing to let me do that for him. Handed it back and he commenced a reload .... five again!

    ''OK guys - no interruptions now - I'm gonna shoot off 10 and then you can score for me''. I watched as he fired off another five .. and we quickly repeated the unload and reload sequence - then he fired the next five, showing I fancied some signs of unsteadiness. I took the gun back and emptied it.

    Roger then called out the score. ''six nines, two eights, a seven and one in the white .... looks like a six''. In fact even without a scope you could see the holes and all but the one shot was in a very reasonable group ...... anyone would have been pleased with it. George of course was back to his expletive! One in the white was serious for him. It was plain though that this string of fifteen had taken it out of him a bit ... but I couldn't help but notice that despite his apparent (mock I think) ire at not staying in the black .. he had this wonderful grin on his face ... a look of unmitigated joy.

    ''Chris - that's enough of the .44 ... I think I'll put some 38's down now''.

    I put the Blackhawk back in it's case and passed him his favorite, the old Model 19. With that too, at his request ... a 50 round MTM box and two speedloaders, placing them on his lap. George instructed no scoring for now ... he was just gonna ''kill'' them two sillhouettes! I stood up and moved back ... the others looked at me and grinned ... here was this dear fella going for what he had done so many times as a fit man ... and in so many competitions too.

    George loaded up his speedloaders, and stoked the 19. He raised from his rather awkward low ready and commenced fire. He was obviously thinking somewhat ''El Pres'' .. and was going pretty much a ''2 COM, one to head'' sequence or rhythm. He fired fast but deliberately ... his old smooth D/A .. and the gun was like silk. His sixth shot was barely gone when he fluently raised his right hand a little, opened the cylinder and dumped the cases .. and in one sweeping movement eased the speedloader six into place. He was coming up on aim whilst closing the cylinder and recommenced fire. He did that again after the second string.

    I expected him to stop but he emptied the cylinder again and loaded up with loose rounds from the MTM ... he picked out rounds in pairs .. and fed them quickly into the cylinder, rotating that ready for transfer of the next pair and then the next. He was still fast even in the chair. He fired off those six with the same rapid but disciplined rhythm. Then stopping and emptying gun ... to look round to see where we were .. again, that delicious grin.

    Roger didn't spot those targets ... he went to get them and brought them back to us. On inspection, there were twelve shots on each ... eight very much COM and tight together on one, with four well centered on the head. The second one was similar but one body shot and one head shot a bit wide.

    ''Not too bad'' George muttered, still grinning. In fact, these were damn good results for anyone and I wished I had had the clock on him .. he was so quick. Paul was noticeably impressed and also was grinning .. well, I guess we all were actually.

    ''Son'', George said, ''I think that'll about do me but, if you don't mind the cleaning, let me just have a few shots with the old front stuffer''. He referred to the rather ugly and short barrelled .44 cal kit pistol he had built many years before. Simple percussion piece.

    I resumed my position by his wheelchair ... and laid out the materials. Shook the powder flask, poured in a charge of 20 or so grains, placed a greased .454 cal ball on the muzzle and rammed it home tight. Gave him the piece and offered the primer charging tool. He added a cap, cocked it and took careful offhand aim ... not so steady but I knew he was tiring.

    With the characteristic sound and envelope of smoke, the piece discharged .. and a pop bottle on the berm danced. He didn't want a paper target now, this was just fun stuff. He passed me the piece .. an even wider grin showing but I noticed too how much more pale he appeared. We repeated this excercise a few times, with berm detritis getting disturbed each shot.

    ''Enough'' said George, unlocking the brake on the chair and signing that he was ready to move on. ''That was great guys. Thank you for being so patient.'' In fact, the last thing on our minds was shooting ourselves.. . that could wait. We had instead watched with pleasure as George enjoyed himself.

    ''Son ..... can you put my stuff away''? Paul gathered up all the gear and packed it back in his range bag. I asked him if he was going to shoot but he said he'd wait until next time, preferring to make this session just for his Dad, who was obviously now quite tired.

    We all helped get the wheelchair off the range and back out through the awkward door and steps, also stopping to help Paul lift him into the car. After a few words and general BS with us, they made to depart but as the car moved off, George wound down his window and almost yelled at us ...... ''F'ing great boys ..... f'ing great'' ... and showed us perhaps the widest grin of the day. It felt good.

    We resumed our usual routine after that and a few other guys turned up .. they had though missed something, rather special.


    What made it so very special in fact was that George died, a mere 36 hours later. Paul called me, and the others .. to say that on the Sunday evening George had had a massive stroke, followed (mercifully we think) by total loss of consciousness. He hovered in that state for just a few hours, before expiring peacefully in his own bed.

    What's the message here? Well, I am wiping away a tear as I recall that day ........ but am reminded of the fact that we are all mortal. Tomorrow carries no guarantees. Here though was perhaps the ultimate ''parting shot'' .. pun both intentional and unintentional! This old fella had radiated utmost pleasure as he shot that last time, and though I know he was feeling pretty rough, could not but help get caught up in his enthusiasm and sheer pleasure. It was really an honor to have shared those moments. The other guys felt the same.

    Two weeks later, Paul came along to the range ... and brought his Dad's guns. We all .. every one of us ... fired a cylinderfull through the Blackhawk and the M19 .. our way of saluting a dear old friend. Paul wept as did we, but we smiled too.
  2. thefitzvh

    thefitzvh Active Member

    Oct 9, 2003
    Austin, TX
    More than a few tears in my eyes now...

    Death affects me stronger now than it used too. I think because I've seen entirely too damn much of it (firsthand, 9-11), coupled with the fact that I don't understand it. (Do any of us, really?)

    Good to know that he got a last range trip. Sad to see another shooter go.

    Rest in Peace, brother.

  3. Baba Louie

    Baba Louie Senior Member

    Dec 26, 2002
    Well written... well written

    Thank you P95
  4. Razor

    Razor Member

    Dec 25, 2002
    NE TN
    Thanks, P95Carry.
  5. sm

    sm member

    Dec 22, 2002
    Between black coffee, and shiftn' gears
    Chris, Thank you for sharing. Damn if it doesn't hit home, hits hard .

    Only thing left when I'm gone - that which don't burn

    Memories and Tributes to fine folks. Same reason I share, visit a Memorial to those laid to rest, view names on a wall lost in 'Nam...even an old burial site of a hunting dog if down that way...

    Folks wonder why some of us the way we are...
    Folks wonder why we fight to preserve some things the way we do...
    Folks understand what George's grin meant...sad -some folks never will...Molon Labe to those whom think otherwise...
  6. kudu

    kudu Senior Member

    Jul 17, 2003
    north central indiana
    Excellent, it left a lump in my throat, and a tear in my eye. Thanks.
  7. jsalcedo

    jsalcedo Senior Member

    Dec 31, 2002
    I hope I can do that for someone and someone will do it for me.

    It reminds me of all the great gun guys we have lost in the twenty some odd years I've been shooting.

    Thanks for writing that.
  8. P95Carry

    P95Carry Moderator Emeritus

    Jan 3, 2003
    South PA, and a bit West of center!
    Steve .. some might yeah ... but surprisingly, even many younger folk ''understand''.

    It pained me writing that piece ... not a pain of hurt so much as a pain of remembrance ... underneath which was still the feeling of something very special. I truly think that it is something most of us actually identify with ... if in fact we just stop, take a deep breath and step back a pace .. leastways, I'll wager for the most part the fine folk on this board do and can.

    There is a need to remember our own mortality .... plus I think a wish to honor those who came before, and are now gone. We owe them that. Plus too maybe - and this is true for me - a wish that when we ourselves move on, we leave something behind. It may be tangible ... an artifact perhaps but maybe more, the memories we leave. Even perhaps a story or two that someone else will tell, to further enrich the lives of others.

    Life has become ever more trivialized IMO .. but underneath that I am optimistic enough to believe that there still beats a very human heart in most ... even if they wish to appear ''hard'' and deny such. I have no problem as years roll by with confessing to a certain ''softness'' ... it does not embarrass me.

    I know the ''special'' days shared at the range with my son, will be remembered by him ... all son's remember with joy (usually) those days shared with a father - a common interest. The closeness and bonding that occurs. The same is true between close friends.

    I am perhaps more sensitive to this situation right now because of hearing of the loss of another dear old friend in UK ... a guy I shot long range rifle with back in Army cadet days, at the ''Mecca'' ... Bisley. I treasure every day, way more than I used to ..... and still spend way too much time here on THR!! But then I feel that that is still not time squandered because of the cameraderie and friendship perceived thru this board.

    Sorry to ramble so much!!:)
  9. Jim March

    Jim March Mentor

    Dec 24, 2002
    SF Bay Area
    Some will never understand. Thanks for writing this for those of us that do.
  10. Larry Ashcraft

    Larry Ashcraft Moderator Staff Member

    Dec 24, 2002
    Home of Heroes, Pueblo, CO, USA
    Thank you Chris.

    And Steve, well said. You have a way with words, my friend.
    Last edited: Mar 10, 2004
  11. KaceCoyote

    KaceCoyote Participating Member

    Mar 10, 2004
    St.Louis Missouri
    Thanks P95.

    Reminds me of an old friend, who fought hard to die with his boots on.

    Only way to go.
  12. RTFM

    RTFM member

    Apr 25, 2003
    Land of ID

    Thank you for sharing that Chris.
    Please express my sincere condolences to Paul at his fathers loss, and to you for the loss of a good friend.

    I could not imagine a better way to salute a lost friend....


  13. popbang

    popbang Member

    Dec 26, 2002
    out yonder
    Powerful post. It brought back memories of my father, he has been gone six years. I always enjoyed shooting or hunting with him and still think of him often when in the woods.
  14. PATH

    PATH Senior Member

    Dec 25, 2002
    Rockland, New York
    Thank you for writing that post. It sure gives us all a lot to think about.
  15. gulogulo1970

    gulogulo1970 Active Member

    Jul 29, 2003
    Fort Worth, Texas
    Very, very moving. I lost my dad two years ago and not a day goes by without me thinking about him. He didn't share my love of guns and shooting but we did share alot of time together. Not enough for me, looking back on it.

    That really is the point, share your life with people. Share your good times share your thoughts, emotions. Your gun collection or your house or car isn't going to tell anybody what kind of person you were when your gone. But your friends and family will know who you were by the experiences you commonly share. Don't spend time on things, spend it on people and you will have 99% of what you really need for a happy life.

    Thank you P95 for that story. You get it.

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