1. I was there but didn't see it personally, but while I was doing an ROTC internship with the 5th Cav. at Fort Knox in the late '70s, the troop I was assigned to went to the practice LAW range. While firing the 35mm(?) practice rockets, one of the trainees pulled the launch tube down at the last moment, so that the rear end was pressed firmly against his shoulder. He wasn't killed, but the plastic and brass igniter mechanism had to be surgically removed from the imitation female organ that he instantly created in his shoulder. The National Guard captain who was also TDY to the troop said, "I'll bet he doesn't do THAT again..."
2. While serving as the XO of a Basic Training company at Fort Knox in the '80s, I regularly patronized the public range, which was also open to local civilians. One morning a friend and I were shooting his HK93 and my Lee-Enfield. A couple of local yokels drove up and started setting up their gear. We called a ceasefire to change targets and started downrange. Moments later I heard a snap off to one side, then a report. This was quickly followed by several others. We turned and saw the Beverly Hillbillys firing while we were downrange! We called ANOTHER ceasefire and asked them what they were doing. Their reply, "We wasn't shootin' AT you, we was shootin' PAST you!" We then told them that if they shot "past" us again, we would return their fire by shooting THROUGH them. We then proceeded to range control to report them. They had left by the time we got back to the line.
3. Wanting to zero my guns at 25 yards for Camp Perry, I went to the Stonewall range, outside of Cleveland. No sooner had I put my gunbox on the bench than the guy in the stall next to mine came off the line, swinging his Ruger centerfire auto across my body with the action closed. I debated saying something, but fearing that would prolong his stay, I said nothing. He left the range to my great relief. A few minutes later, I looked off to my left to see three Serbian (or Croatian) gentlemen wrestling over a loaded 12ga. pump. At that point, I finished my business as fast as humanly possible and got out of there.
4. In the early '90s I was shooting a long range match at Camp Perry during the Nationals. Right after a 1000 yard relay began, there was a ceasefire which lasted at least an hour. Apparently, an elderly pit officer decided that he would disregard the pit safety instructions. Rather than stand against the bunker wall, or sit in the bunker, he decided to stand next to the target frame. Back in those days, there was a permanent handrail leading down the sandbag steps on top of the berm into the pits. Apparently, somebody didn't have a good 1000 yard zero. Instead of hitting the target, frame or berm, the bullet hit the handrail at a downward angle. It then traveled along the handrail, coming off at an angle to the left. It struck gramps' shooting glasses, skidded a bit, entered his face (knocking out a few teeth along the way) then exited his jawline. He was mildly discomfited by this. Immediate first aid was rendered while the medevac helicopter was en route. He was airlifted to a hospital in Sandusky or Toledo. Three or four hours later, he was back, escorted by a teenage girl detailed to keep him out of trouble.
5. I wasn't there, but a friend was: A friend had a Jordanian Army officer in his Armor Officer Basic Course Class. "George" was kind of the Arab version of "Kelso" on
That '70s Show. They used to do things like make up imaginary slang sayings to teach him, such as "That really tortures my crabs!" for a frustrating situation. One day on the tank range, "George" was the loader in his vehicle. In the sequence of tank firing commands, once the loader has a round in the breech, he's supposed to call out "up!". The student tank commander called out a fire mission like, "Gunner, sabot, tank, direct front, 1500 meters!" The gunner replied as he was required, "Identified!" No reply from "George". Still no reply from "George". The TC started calling out, "George, give me an 'up'!" Still no reply. Frustrated, the gunner finally said "Screw it, 'On the way!'" and fired. "George" who had until that time been in the bottom of the turret searching for the flashlight that he'd dropped, chose that moment to sit up... with his head immediately behind the breech of the 105mm gun. As the breech recoilled, it struck "George" in the side of his vehicle crewman's helmet, knocking him over senseless (well, more senseless than usual). "George" staggered upright, the plastic shell of his helmet splitting and falling off of the padded liner. In a Robin Williams quaalude drawl, "George" babbled, "I do not think I can continuuuuuuue..." He then crawled out of the loader's hatch, sliding down the side of the turret headfirst and falling to the ground next to the M60A3. I imagine that today, he's a brigade commander in the Jordanian Armored Corps...
6. Another friend was on the tank range at Graffenwoehr in West Germany. There were strict orders not to molest any wildlife in the training areas. His platoon was just getting ready for a firing exercise with coaxes and cupola machineguns when a herd of deer entered the impact area from one side of the range. Just as my friend was beginning to shout, "None of you
better start shooting!", a tremendous fusillade of machinegun fire erupted from the platoon. Thousands of rounds of 7.62 and .50 obscured the deer in a cloud of dust kicked up by the bullet strikes. The guns fell silent, and there was an eerie silence... broken by the herd of deer bounding out of the dust cloud. My friend proceeded to lambaste his platoon, not only for disobeying orders, but for missing an entire herd of deer with EVERY round.
