My dad, after living the first eleven years of his life in the Great Depression in south Texas, my paternal grandfather went island hopping out in the Pacific for 4 1/2 years. His older brother was a good guy but didn't do much in the way of bringing things home for the family to eat. My dad ran traps for pelts (skunks and raccoons) and hunted to and from school. It was about four miles from their house, as the crow flies, to school. His mother gave him a Win Md 42 (which I now have) and with that there was almost never a day when there wasn't some meat on the table. Through it all my grandmother never lost sight of what was important. School was the most important thing of all. Her four sons would all graduate from Texas A&M after going through the Corps and serving their time in the US Army went of to become successful men in their own right.

My father killed his first deer the way a good many young men did, with a borrowed rifle and borrowed ammo. A Win Mod 71 in 348 Win did the deed and it was no small task for a 125# soaking wet teenager. His second deer wasn't much different. A borrowed 8mm Mauser (battlefield pickup) and he had two FMJ rounds of German ammo (conceivably what was left in the rifle when it was picked up) He filed the points off so they would expand. He used one to check the sights and the other to kill the buck. A buck deer in the late 40s was a rare commodity.

My maternal grandfather was the gun nut. He lived and breathed guns. If it had to do with guns, he did it. I guess that's where I get my interest. Reloading, casting, wildcatting, the works, but all situated around hunting. When he married in 1931 he went to work for the highway dept shoveling asphalt. My grandmother cooked for the crew. He had a Rem Mod 12 22. He was the only man on the crew with a gun. They would all put in their pennies for enough to buy a box of 22 shorts. He said it was a quarter. He went out before work and shot squirrels in East Texas every morning before work (head shots) and my grandmother cooked them for the crew. Cheap stew meat. I have that rifle also. It actually belonged to my Great Grandfather first.

I grew up in South Louisiana. When I wasn't in school or mowing grass I was in the woods or on the water. My father put a lot of faith in me early on and it was quite common to see a 12 year old boy walking through the neighborhoods with a shotgun and a bunch of squirrels, a swamp rabbit or two or a stringer of fish. Life was good.

My dad did way better than any of his family before him and my sisters and I suffered none of the depravations of hunger or insecurity. We wanted for nothing. I grew up using some pretty nice firearms and didn't really know the difference until much later on. He taught me about fine shotguns, bird dogs and field etiquette of gentlemen. Those are worthwhile things to learn.

#1 wife and I got married against all common sense, put ourselves through school and made our own way. We had a lot of help, but we had to do it on our own. For a good many years my shotguns and rifles accounted for about 50% of our table meat, hogs and chickens on the place took up the slack.

I know guys who will burn up 200 rounds of ammo in a weekend of shooting paper, tin cans, or clay pigeons. While I could certainly do that, I can't. There is something inside of me that will not let me "Waste" ammunition. I certainly practice, and work up loads, and at times will shoot more than I should. But most times every shot represents multiple strokes of the loading press and multiple hands on of the single round. It takes a lot longer to load than it does to shoot.

I could go on, and on, and on...

I guess the greatest thing that all those men taught me in all the gun training, was responsibility. When you take a gun in your hands, you hold a lot of power. It must be wielded responsibly, to yourself, the animals you hunt, and the rest of mankind, anything less is pure negligence.

Alan

Last edited by A R McDaniel Jr; 03/12/19 02:23 AM.