Monkeyleg
Member.
Yesterday I had my bi-monthly stint as range safety officer.
A guy pulls up in a minivan, which is not unusual. I soon realized, though, why he needed a minivan.
After countless trips to the van, he finally had at his bench no less than six Craftsman large plastic tool boxes. By the time he finished bringing all the smaller Tupperware boxes to the bench, I'd lost count. Most infantry units travel with less equipment.
He posted his targets down at the 100 yard line, then proceeded to get out his gear.
Half an hour later, I was wondering if he'd brought a gun.
Then came the moment I'd been waiting for. He opened his rifle case and took out one of the most other-worldly looking rifles I've ever seen: base action was a Remington 700 Police, with a McMillan barrel, Jewell eight ounce trigger, one of the most complicated adjustable comb/pull/cant stocks I've ever seen, and a peepsight system that could probably rival any of our smart weapons utilized in Iraq. He told me he had more than $4000 into the rifle.
Setting up his spotting scope was like watching the Hubble telescope being deployed.
After watching all of this logistical maneuvering, I wanted to scream "shoot, dammit!"
But the best was yet to come.
After he'd occupied all seven rifle benches with his gear, he knocked his rifle off the bench. I went running to grab any piece of his expensive gear as the rifle hit the spotting scope, which hit the doo-hickey, which hit the other doo-hickey. I did manage to grab the rifle, and saw that it now had a 2" long gouge in the McMillan barrel and some pretty good scratches in his $750 stock.
He re-arranged his deployment of gear, then put on his hat. This was no pedestrian baseball hat: it had flaps held by velcro that could be dropped to the left or right like huge blinders.
He took his first shot at his 100 yard target. There was a cloud of dust in the dirt at the fifty yard line. Second shot, same thing.
Third shot produced a cloud of dust at about 60 yards. Fourth shot was pounding dirt at about 70 yards. Politely I asked, "are you getting on target yet?"
He said that he "walked" his sights up 10 MOA at a time.
OK.
After each shot he adjusted front and rear peep sights, using a magnifying glass that--yes--he carried in its own special velvet case. It even had a clamp to attach it to the stock.
Once he was on the 4'x4' cardboard with his shots, he said it was time for "major surgery." I thought perhaps he'd remove his eyes. Instead he brought out another case that contained a dial run-out gauge with a special clamp for the barrel. After a half-hour of adding all sorts of additional clamps to get it into position, he was ready: he was going to rotate the front sight .021" to the left.
Ooookaaayyy.
Finalllyyyyy....he took his real shot. It hit the bullseye, and he invited me to look. Yep, it did. The subsequent five shots were about four inches low and to the right, one inch high and to the left, and two inches low and right about center.
"Cheap Venezualan brass," he said.
When he brought his targets back, I realized that most guys with an AK or SKS could shoot similar groups, maybe even while drunk.
As he filled his van with the boxes of doo-dads and gee-gaws I watched another shooter who'd brought just his TC Contender and a box of .22 ammo. No other stuff. He drilled the targets from 25 yards out to 100 yards with open sights, standing. When he was finished, he put his TC in its case, pulled his targets and went home.
Such a simple regimen.
A guy pulls up in a minivan, which is not unusual. I soon realized, though, why he needed a minivan.
After countless trips to the van, he finally had at his bench no less than six Craftsman large plastic tool boxes. By the time he finished bringing all the smaller Tupperware boxes to the bench, I'd lost count. Most infantry units travel with less equipment.
He posted his targets down at the 100 yard line, then proceeded to get out his gear.
Half an hour later, I was wondering if he'd brought a gun.
Then came the moment I'd been waiting for. He opened his rifle case and took out one of the most other-worldly looking rifles I've ever seen: base action was a Remington 700 Police, with a McMillan barrel, Jewell eight ounce trigger, one of the most complicated adjustable comb/pull/cant stocks I've ever seen, and a peepsight system that could probably rival any of our smart weapons utilized in Iraq. He told me he had more than $4000 into the rifle.
Setting up his spotting scope was like watching the Hubble telescope being deployed.
After watching all of this logistical maneuvering, I wanted to scream "shoot, dammit!"
But the best was yet to come.
After he'd occupied all seven rifle benches with his gear, he knocked his rifle off the bench. I went running to grab any piece of his expensive gear as the rifle hit the spotting scope, which hit the doo-hickey, which hit the other doo-hickey. I did manage to grab the rifle, and saw that it now had a 2" long gouge in the McMillan barrel and some pretty good scratches in his $750 stock.
He re-arranged his deployment of gear, then put on his hat. This was no pedestrian baseball hat: it had flaps held by velcro that could be dropped to the left or right like huge blinders.
He took his first shot at his 100 yard target. There was a cloud of dust in the dirt at the fifty yard line. Second shot, same thing.
Third shot produced a cloud of dust at about 60 yards. Fourth shot was pounding dirt at about 70 yards. Politely I asked, "are you getting on target yet?"
He said that he "walked" his sights up 10 MOA at a time.
OK.
After each shot he adjusted front and rear peep sights, using a magnifying glass that--yes--he carried in its own special velvet case. It even had a clamp to attach it to the stock.
Once he was on the 4'x4' cardboard with his shots, he said it was time for "major surgery." I thought perhaps he'd remove his eyes. Instead he brought out another case that contained a dial run-out gauge with a special clamp for the barrel. After a half-hour of adding all sorts of additional clamps to get it into position, he was ready: he was going to rotate the front sight .021" to the left.
Ooookaaayyy.
Finalllyyyyy....he took his real shot. It hit the bullseye, and he invited me to look. Yep, it did. The subsequent five shots were about four inches low and to the right, one inch high and to the left, and two inches low and right about center.
"Cheap Venezualan brass," he said.
When he brought his targets back, I realized that most guys with an AK or SKS could shoot similar groups, maybe even while drunk.
As he filled his van with the boxes of doo-dads and gee-gaws I watched another shooter who'd brought just his TC Contender and a box of .22 ammo. No other stuff. He drilled the targets from 25 yards out to 100 yards with open sights, standing. When he was finished, he put his TC in its case, pulled his targets and went home.
Such a simple regimen.
after he set up his target). He had completely missed not only the target but the entire stand that it was hanging on (old real estate sign) 
. 