A collection of bedtime stories - or sharpshooter & sniper tales

Here's a link to a book I've been searching for for many years now. It's a fictionalized account of WW I sniping. Sniper Jackson has been out of print for many years, then Goggle Books has it. Link

Enjoy Sniper Jackson. I'm reading it now.

July 2010 issue of Muzzle Blasts magazine has my article on sharpshooting at the Battle of St. Foy (Quebec II). The Company of Military Historians has done a review of the book which it will release soon.
 
Great Reading

Hi Gary!:)

I was reading one of your anecdotes on TFL about Lord Baden Powell, & I was wondering if you have been to Gilwell. If you had, is there a critter that might stand out a little more for you then others.
I have enjoyed reading your postings here & can't wait to introduce my youngest (39) son to them. Heading to Gettysberg on 8/16/10, he has been student of the War Between the States for many years.

You posted a link to a link for information regarding your book but I wasn't able to get in. Please pass the info, title,etc.
Thank you I enjoyed them!:)

Digger.
 
"Back to Gilwell, happy land,
I'm going to make my ticket if I can"

And I am infact working on some wood Badge Tickets this summer and fall.

-kBob
 
Here's a bit of advice from a WW I British sniping officer to his pupils. He himself was introduced to his trade by a sergeant in 4 Gordons. The sergeant didn't survive the war (artillery got him) and unfortunately, his diary was destroyed with him. This bit of advice is almost 100 years old and is as relevant today as it was then.

“You see you must never despise your enemy. He is a very good soldier, the German, so do not listen when people laugh or sneer at ‘Bosches.’ When the newspapers talk so stupidly of ‘Huns’ not playing the game, etc., etc., as often as not these Germans are fine fellows doing their best for their country, and doing it better than most. They are standing all sorts of hardships; they are facing all kinds of dangers, just as much as our own good men at the front, an example to many who might do more.”
 
working your ticket

:)kBob,

While at Gilwell what group of critters did you wind up being involved with? You mention you will be working with some tickets, are you working the course?

Just an ole Beaver.:D
Digger.
 
Digger,

I wear the mark of the Fox.

If I can get four of five finished by late January I am invited to be on cadre at next year's classes in my Council.

Having some difficulty on the personal improvement ticket due to illness, mine and the kids, but well on the way.

On a BP related note I hope to do the Outdoor Activities FIrearms training course before next summer.

Gary,

Sorry to hijack. I will stop now. I like reading your stories too much to get in the way much.

-kBob
-kBob
 
Sniper Jackson update

In theory, I should have finished the book but I'm only 3/4th through. There are problems with reading it. The author's heavy reliance on WW I vernacular results in some things sailing over my head. Another difficulty arises in not understanding a scottish accent. One must slow down to translate what is being said. Here's an example. It is from a Scot sniper to an American serving in a Scottish regiment. The Scotsman is encouraging the American to write to his (the Scot's) sister.

"Och, ay, man. Ah'll write tae ma lassie tellin' ye're gaun tae write tae her sister Bella. An' Ah'll tell her what like o' chap ye are. Bella will write ye a' richt. She's just cast oot wi' a lad. Gaun! Write noo," urged Billy.

"What'll I say?" asked Oldheim, opening out his writing block.

"Say ye are a lonely sodger, an' would she excuse you just dropping her a line for something better tae dae. Say ye've heard frae me that she's oot a lad the noo, an' that Ah reckomendit ye tae apply for the vacancy. Tell her aboot the fecht we're noo gaun up tae. Pile it on thick. Lassies fairly like that. Say ye've heard she's a graun' baker, and that ye likit that bite o' one o' her scones Ah gied ye. She'll mebbe send ye some."
 
The Scot is encouraging the American to write his girlfriend's sister, not his own.

I think it is colorful speech, but does slow one down.

-kBob
 
Duck Hunting

Here's an account where sniper training came in very handy. When the supply chain breaks down, soldiers have to forage for their food. One forager had the benefit of sniper training and a scoped rifle.

Another type of game bird we hunted was the ducks that lived in the swamps behind the village. We hunted the ducks with our rifles. Because we were not officers, we didn't have any shotguns and shooting a duck with a rifle can be very tricky. You had to hit them in the head or shoot the head off. A hit with a rifle bullet in the body would ruin the duck and it would have to be thrown away.

Being a sharpshooter, I had better luck at this than most riflemen. I had a Zeiss scope on my rifle and it came in real handy for shooting ducks. I'd sneak in to the edge of the swamp and lay down or rest the rifle across a tree limb to keep it steady. Then I'd find a target, a duck, and set the crosshairs on the thinnest part of its neck. That's when I'd hold half my breath and squeeze the trigger of that Mauser very carefully until the rifle fired. Almost every time, I could shoot a duck's head right off.
 
One Hundred Forty-Six Years Ago Today

On 16 August 1864,Federal troops over-ran the Confederate's position at the second battle of Deep Bottom, Virginia(AKA; Fussel's Mill). Although a Confederate victory,many Confederate soldiers were taken prisoner of war. Among those captured was my great-great grandfather Private Isaac Sanford Thomason of the 64th Regiment Georgia Volunteer Infantry,Company K. At the time of his capture he was 35 years old. He died at Jackson Hospital in Richmond ,Virginia on 24,October 1864.
 
At another gunboard, the question was asked, what was the first sniper rifle issued?

Well, one has to consider what is meant by sniper? The term was coined in the late 1700s and was in the English lexicon by 1820. It hadn't entered the American lexicon until after the Civil War. While there are some uses of the word sniper and sniping by Civil War soldiers, most of the time they used it post-World War I when they penned their memoirs. There are a few cases where I haven't been able to determined if the author, editor or copy-editor changed "sharpshooter" to sniper. One should locate the original manuscript and this isn't always easy.

However, if we use a general dictionary definition of a military marksman who shoots from a position of concealment, then indeed many blackpowder era sharpshooters could be snipers. The questioner provided further clarification into what he sought by specifying he was thinking of optically equipped weapons. This would preclude virtually all flintlocks even though some flintlock riflemen certainly did snipe at their opponent. Tim Murphy at Saratoga or 1/95 rifleman Tom Plunkett at Bueno Aires comes to mind. My own research showed at least two flintlock rifles which were scoped. One was tested by Frederick the Great, but there is no record of it being used in combat. The other was made right here in America during the Revolution. However, the soldier was a militia officer given to sword waving (or spontoon wielding to align his men) and his journal shows no record of it being used to bag a redcoat. He was happy to be able to hit a sheet of paper at 100 yards, but that would could have been done by any proficient rifleman back then.

So, which rifle takes the prize? First, I want to disqualify a lot of the scoped rifles used by the Union sharpshooters. The question asked about military issued or inventoried weapon. The scoped weapons used by the Union sharpshooters were privately purchased. There was no uniformity with respects to the caliber, weight, power charge, patch or bullet that these guns fired. It is possible that one unit did receive gubmint issued scoped rifles, but this was state gubmint and not the federal gubmint. All in all, the scoped rifles used by the Yankees are therefore disqualified.

So, which one is the winner? The British Whitworth. Not all Whitworths had optical sights and the ones issued on an experimental basis to the various regiments of the British army probably didn't. Whether it was optically sighted or not, the Confederates bought all the Whitworths they could grab. One writer estimates that upwards of 250 were bought (but not all reached America and we know of fifty that were intercepted and auctioned off in New York). Still, there were some with detachable Davidson scopes and this meets the questioner's criteria. So there you have it. The first gubmint issued "sniper" rifle is the British Whitworth as issued by the Confederate government.

(BTW, it's one thing to have the data or information, like all these unrelated sharpshooting stories presented in this thread. It's another to interpret them, which hasn't been done here. The above is an example of the analysis. Enough self-congratulatory back-patting. Back to work.)
 
link to British rifleman article

Here's someone else's online article on a rifleman of the 1/95, Tom Plunkett. He is mentioned and illustrated in Chapter 3 of my book. Link Enjoy.
 
Presidential protection

When first elected, Abe Lincoln had to be snuck into Washington, D.C. like a thief in the night. This precaution was necessary as there were many pro-south sympathizers who were plotting to kill him while en-route or at the inauguration. He traveled under an alias, had Pinkerton bodyguards including a woman bodyguard whose travel cover was that she was his cousin. His inaugural route was well secured and the inauguration platform guarded against bombs for twenty-four hours by a soldiers before the inauguration. Lincoln was very well protected.

Contrast that to the protection he received later on March 4, 1865. This observation was made by poet Walt Whitman.

"I saw him on his return, at three o'clock, after the performance was over. He was in his plain two-horse barouche, and looked very much worn and tired; the lines indeed, of vast responsibilities, intricate questions, and demands of life and death, cut deeper than ever upon his dark brown face; yet all the old goodness, tenderness, sadness, and canny shrewdness underneath the furrows. (I never see that man without feeling that he is one of to be attached to, for his combination of purest, heartiest, tenderness, and native Western form of manliness.) By his side sat his little boy of ten years. There were no soldiers, only a lot of civilians on horseback, with huge yellow scarfs over their shoulders, riding around the carriage. (At the inauguration four years ago, he rode down and back again surrounded by a dense mass of armed cavalrymen, eight deep, with drawn sabres; and there were sharp-shooters stationed at every corner of the route.)"

Taken from Keith Jennison's The Humorous Lincoln, page 137.
 
The Firing Line, the official publication of the California Rifle and Pistol Association and not the famous website owned by Rich Lucibella, has published my article entitled, Sharpshooters, in their Nov. 2010 issue.
 
NRA Secretary and Carlos Hathcock's boss, Major Jim Land is interviewed by Remington. Scroll down to interview and you'll see a link to his interview by Remington. Enjoy. Link
 
Who Were These Buffalo Soldiers?

...And How Did They Get Their Name?

Photo Link:

http://projects.ajc.com/gallery/view/travel/southeast/booth-western-art/10.html

What's their connection to General John "Black Jack" Pershing?
Read all about the history of these Buffalo Soldiers and discover what they accomplished.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buffalo_Soldier


Buffalo Soldiers originally were members of the U.S. 10th Cavalry Regiment of the United States Army, formed on September 21, 1866 at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.....

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buffalo_Soldier
 
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Since Articap raised the issue of the Buffalo Soldiers, I recently picked up a book on one regiment. The Twenty-Fifth Infantry by John H. Nankivell. It had too much modern history (for my taste) and not enough frontier and Spanish American War. I did find this gem in it.

An innovation of this period was the establishment of the 25th Infantry Bicycle Corps, under the command of 2nd Lieutenant James A. Moss. An article by Fairfax Downey in the American Weekly for September 18, 1928, gives a very entertaining description of the "Corps," and from which I have culled the following extracts:

In the heydey of the bicycle, the year 1897, there was organized at Fort Missoula, Montana, the 25th Infantry Bicycle Corps. In command of the cycle corps was Lieutenant (now colonel) James A. Moss, widely known as the author of Moss's Manual and other military text books. His talent made him a fit chronicler of the activities of his command - activities which were to resolve themselves into a veritable peace-time anabasis, a series of bikes through the Rocky Mountains.

'Now this Bicycle Corps of the 25th Infantry, was not the sizable organization it sounds. With customary army conservatism, the strength of this new department was restricted to one lieutenant, one sergeant, one corporal, one musician and five privates, one of them a good mechanic. They all presumably qualified as being able to ride wheels. Before very long, they could do a good deal more than that. They cold drill, scale fences, ford streams and hike - or bike - forty miles a day in heavy marching order.

'The Corps would clear a nine foot fence in twenty seconds. The command was, 'Jump fence,' and they did it - of course 'By the numbers.' A front rank man would rest his wheel against the fence and pull himself over. Thereupon his file would pass over both wheels and follow himself. On the other side, the Corps would smartly assume the position of 'Stand to bicycle.' To ford a stream not deep and swift, they dismounted, and rolled their wheels through, but if it was a more formidable proposition, two men slung a wheel on a stick resting on their shoulders, and carried it over. Their packs consisted of aknap-sack with blanket roll and shelter half strapped to the handlebars. A haversack was carried forward underneath the horizontal bar. Under the seat was a cup, in a cloth sack to keep off the dust. The rifle was strapped horizontally on the left side of the wheel. Slung on the rider himself was the canteen and thirty rounds of ammunition, having been found that it was prudent to burden the soldier's person with little, in case of a fall.

'The corps made its first real hike to Lake Macdonald. Starting at 6:20, they had clicked off thirty-three miles by 12:30 without much untoward happening, except for two men falling in a stream. By 7:30 that night they had put fifty-one miles behind them. the next day it rained and was very muddy, but they made thirty-one miles. All in all, they made 126 miles in twenty-four hours of actual travel and that under adverse conditions. The Corps next put a hike to Yellowstone Park. A hot sun and steep hills which necessitated pushing the wheels were encountered, and down grades where it was hard to hold back also provided difficulties. At last the command halted on the Continental Divide, where half the squad took position on one side and half on the other. When a tourist asked one of the cyclcists, 'Where do you expect to go today?', the answer came back quick as a shot, 'The Lord only knows, we're following the lootenant.' Deprecating the deep dust and many falls, but enjoying the scenery and the geysers, the Corps pedaled through the park, making a speed of seven miles an hour for 133 miles.

'Their record hike was seventy-two miles averaging eight and three-quarters miles per hour. While the strength of this Corps was increased later to twenty and it proved valuable as scouts and couriers in regimental maneuvers, it did not continue, and during the usual peace inertia between wars, no similar organization took form. The extent of our country, its lack of network of roads, its large supply of horses - all these were factors discouraging cycle corps while the reverse in Europe encourages them."

Their bicycles were the old steel frame, one gear type. No carbon fiber or aluminum frame, titanium gears, shock absorbers or anything that can be found on a modern mountain bike. That was some tough biking.

The March-April issue of Muzzle Loader magazine has my article, Sharpshooters to the Tops! It's about the topmen and their role in naval warfare.
 
After the close of the war, we were in Augusta, Georgia, and while there bonded with a family named Wheeler. It developed that Mr. Wheeler had been a sharpshooter in the Confederate army and was with General Wheeler at the time the general harassed and siputed the crossing of the rivers by General Sherman and his army in Georgia. Wheeler's men usually had to be driven out before the bridge could be laid. This evening there were several present and they were relating incidents and stories of the war in which they took part. E. was silent, for he knew he was the only Yankee present, and while they knew he had served with the Northern army, they did not know he was one of Sherman's men, and he though it was the better part of wisdom not to tell them.

Mr. Wheeler was telling about Sherman and his men and how, though Gen. Wheeler was not strong enough to attack them, they made the laying of bridges and crossing of rivers a dangerous job. He told of the pontoon train with Sherman's army and of the men who had charge of it. General Wheeler had given orders that his sharpshooters should especially single out these men at the clearings and harass them and pick of their officers as often as possible. They would hide on the opposite bank and shoot at these men till compelled to retire by the fie from the infantry. He told of the coolness and indifference these bridge layers manifested in what was often a very dangerous situation, and how they tried to cripple them before the other part of the army came up, for these men were always in the van. Then he went on to relate about one officer who seemed to bear a charmed life. He was often in charge of the work, was very active and nothing seemed to daunt him, had fine command of his men and did not spare himself. If there was a danger point, he was right there. He had taken aim and fired at this officer many times, hoping to wound or disable him or even kill him, but he had never been able to him him, and he thought he was a pretty good shot too. E. looked up and quietly remarked, "So you were the chap that tried to pot me." The look of amazement on Mr. Wheeler's face was ludicrous. "Was it you?" He said. "I guess it was," E. replied, "and I thought you were a mighty poor shot not to be able to hit me, but I did not have time to think about it."

Next year Muzzle Blasts Magazine will be releasing my article in two parts on the Glorieta Campaign.
 
Remove the leadership

It's been discussed before that removing the leadership will incapacitate the men. That worked at Saratoga when Gen. Fraser was shot by Tim Murphy. Here's another example:

"There were not, however, wanting many brave fellows among the French officers, who exerted themselves strenuously to rally their terrified comrades, and to restore the battle. Among these I remarked one in particular. He was on horseback; and, riding among a flying battalion, he used every means which threat and entratey could produce, to stop them; and he succeeded. The battalion paused, its example was followed by others, and in five minutes a well-formed line occupied what looked like the last of a range of green hills, on the other side of a valley which we were descending.

"This sudden movement on the part of the enemy was met by a corresponding formation on ours; we wheeled into line and advanced. Not a word was spoken, not a shot fired, till our troops had reached nearly half way across the little hollow, when the French, raising one of their discordant yells, - a sort of shout, in which every man halloos for himself, without regard to the tone or time of those about him, - fired a volley. It was well directed, and did considerable execution; but it checked not our approach for a moment. Our men replied with a hearty British cheer, and giving them ack their fire, rushed to the charge.

In this they were met with great spirit by the enemy, I remarked the same individual, who had first stopped their flight, ride along the front of his men, and animate them to their duty, nor was it without very considerable difficulty, and after having exchanged several discharges of musketry, that we succeeded in getting within charging distance. Then, indeed, another cheer was given, and the French, without waiting for the rush, once more broke their ranks and fled. Their leader was still as active as before. He rode among the men, reproached, exhorted, and even struck those near him with his sword, and he was once more about to restore order, when he fell. In an instant, however, he rose again and mounted another horse, but he had hardly done so when a ball took effect in his neck, and he dropped dead. The fall of this one man decide the day. The French troops lost all order and all discipline, and making their way to the rear, each by himself as best he could, they left us in undisputed possession of the field."

Jan. 2014 Muzzle Blasts will have my article on The British Army Learns Forest Warfare.

A hearty hello to Dan C's son-in-law whom he visited in Dec.
 
So I read something more modern

Sidenote: Just learned that a fellow at school belongs to the 10th Cav Association which is composed of descendants of the buffalo soldiers. His relative? The colonel of the regiment! He didn't have his relative's biography or picture so I provided them from the regimental history, Under Fire. A couple of years ago I learned another student (a special forces command sergeant major) had a relative who fought at King's Mountain. He had no information other than the last name. I checked it out and found three relations of his had fought there. Amazing who you can meet if you bother to talk to them. Now, on with the useless but entertaining incident from the past.

I have been vaguely conscious of wireless voices reporting snipers in trees. Trees in my telescope. Ropes dangling. "Snipers must be up those trees, using ropes to shin down,' observes Mac. 'Can't see 'em. Too high to elevate the gun. Load HE and knock those trees down by the roots.'

I aim at the foot of one of those trees. Fire! Watch. An immediate furnace of red-hot steel seems to flare at the tree's base. The tree, killed instantly, takes a tired leap, like a shot deer, topples and crashes flat. 'And thenext one!' - Mac. As I aim I see at the margin of my vision a field-grey figure swarming down his rope. The muzzle flame breeds another grossly distending furnace fire. The second tree splits apart. The smoke clouds clear. There is no tree. No rope. No field-grey figure.

For anyone who is in Trinidad on April 20, 2016, I will be presenting an hour talk on the Civil War sharpshooter inside the Berg Building's little theatre. Talk starts at 7 pm.
 
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