The worst gun related idiocy I am aware of took place in a particular US Army Infantry Division when I was assigned to it as a ground-pounder 50 years ago.

A new "2nd John" decided all the Division-level Hq & Hq Co personnel needed rifle practice, so he fell them out on the lawn of the parade ground in front of the barracks, complete with Garands, in fatigues and helmet liners. Put them prone in two lines facing each other about 20 yards apart. Directed them to work in pairs, lying side-by-side, with one watching the other for any sign of flinch.

Then he had dummy rounds issued to all concerned and directed them to load the dummies, aim at the rivet hole in the middle of the front of the helmet liner of the trooper lying opposite to them, and to squeeze off 8 rounds each. The man lying next to the "firer" would knock the op rod back after each "round" to simulate firing, and chamber the next "dummy".

Several of us NCOs refused to do so, which got him more than a little excited and we were put on report for pending summary courts-martial (Article 15 1evel, which included possible loss of a stripe).

Understand, this officer's primary duty in this exercise was to act as SAFETY OFFICER. Everything else was secondary.

Anyway, after a while we were all released from this detail, returned to our normal duties still awaiting courts-martial, and the next group was told to fall in and march over for their turn. They did.

Somewhere in their turn through the drill, one of the rounds turned out to NOT be a dummy. The trooper involuntarily serving as the target died (a draftee, not an RA volunteer, BTW).

We never saw that officer again after that day, but I have no idea how his case was disposed of. We were not (at least I was not) asked to testify at his court-martial proceeding, but WE were never courts-martialed either.

I was at the range outside of Ottawa, ON last weekend. A guy parks his carcass on my left, screws in 4 eyelet hooks in the baffling and then hangs a plastic sheet on them. So far I hadn't said a word, not even hello. He proceeds to take out his automatic .223 rifle and blaze away. That plastic sheet was really doing a dance. He smiled and asked, "Is that better?" Then I recognized him. He's a guy I raised hell with a couple years ago because all his empty cases ended up on my bench, most of them hitting me in the process. We had a good laugh about it, nice youngster, one of the few that listens, but I don't recall suggesting he hang up a plastic divider. This guy can shoot at my range any day. Best wishes.

Cal - Montreal

Alberta Canuck,
Like everyone always says. The Army is run by NCO's. Officers are just there to bark orders and screw things up.

Although, I must say that there are a few decent, and level headed officers out there. Good luck getting one of them in your unit though.

Steel Slinger -

Most of the officers under whom I served were very good men. Probably the worst were some of the "Pointers", but most of the ROTC and OCS guys were regular Joes, just trying to make their way from day to day. Some were absolutely outstanding.

A couple of years after our Division came back from Korea to Hawaii, we did have an Artillery Officer who managed to get a 155 in a training exercize laid exactly 180 degrees wrong. Put a shell into the town limits of Wahiawa, Oahu, but not downtown. No one was injured, but from what I understood it didn't do his career a great deal of good either <G>. And we did have one soul, a Point "eliter" and football hero, who was dearly hated by the guys in his Regiment, with just cause. Shortly after I was Med-evac'd back to CONUS, I heard that he died when he got fragged (our Division was then in The Nam). I hope that fragging tale wasn't true, but it sure didn't surprise me even a little bit.

Several years ago I went to a local shooting spot with my cousin. Someone was there and we decided to ask him if we could work in and perhaps alternate. He said he was almost finished, so we though we would wait.

I noticed a few beer cans behind him on the ground but there was no telling how old they were. His younger (about 7 yrs) son was playing behind the shooting area. Bubba, as we now call him, hollers out, "here it comes". My cousin and I look around to see who bubba could possibly be talking to. Must have been us, nice of him to give us a noise warning. Bubba fires a shot then yells out "OK". Then, yup, you guessed it his older son jumps up from 5 yards beside the target, from the brush, to run over and point to where the hole in the target is.
We asked them to not do that any more, Just in case.

Wait, it gets better, or worse. The older son comes back to the bench and proceeds to load a 308 Win into his 25-06. Fortunately the Ruger popped the cartridge into the chamber instead of picking up the rim. After a short investigation and the help of a car antenna we helped him get the 308 out of the chamber.

At this point we decided to let natural selection take it's course and come back another time. The whole thing was sad but the worst part is, that is who the kids would learn their lessons about firearms from.

Joe

I got to the range later than normal one day and found our local Dr. and his son at the bench cleaning the good Doctors .300 Mag. Doc would push a parker hale jag w/patch through and Jr. would remove it. Jr. wasn't paying attention as Daddy pulled back on the Dewey which jammed Jr's finger into the end of the barrel. Doc panics as Jr. is screaming and continues to pull backwards. I scream at Doc to push not pull. With one final yank Doc pulls a small chunk off of Jr's finger and it starts to bleed really good. Doc sees what he has done to his kid--turned white and damn near passed out.

Went to the range unloaded all my gear--set the bench up. Went downrange set my targets--set down to shoot---I forgot to load the ammo into the car before I left the house.

Got to the range--finished my coffee--locked the car--walked over to the outhouse to pee---guess what--I locked my keys into the car. Had to call the wife. Sure was glad I was at the range and not the lady friends house.

Another good story, (I'm lucky around here, we have good folks for the most part).....

I go to the range on a rainy summer day to tune up some deer riles and see how rain affects group shooting. Just a relaxing day of shooting, hopefully by myself. After I've been there a while an old gentleman shows up and starts unloading his shooting gear from his car. The fellow is well dressed and didn't strike me as a hunter/shooter, (looks can be darn deceiving). He unloads a military M1, and what I failed to notice right off was the stainless Douglas barrel on this old junker. We talk for a few minutes and he introduces himself as a local retired physician, whom I'd heard of, but hadn't met before. After the chit chat, he puts up some 4" bulls at 100 yards. As I resume shooting later, he crawls up on a 4'X8' table just behind the benches, several benches over from me and takes a prone position, and begins shooting with open sights. Now this gent was nearly 80 years old, and when he got done, I was amazed. He had kept nearly every single shot within the 4" bulls he had tacked up, with some WELL within the 4" circle. He later explained that the rifle was the genuine article he carried in WWII, (rebarreled after a lifetime of shooting, until it was shot out), which he had since been using in match events attended by similarly interested veterans in regional matches all over the eastern US. I remember thinking I wouldn't want that man shooting at me now in his advanced years, I can't imagine how he shot when he was a young serviceman. I know, even more now, how we won the war. He was a polite, humble gentleman, who is the epitomy of the "greatest generation" as Tom Brokaw calls them, (which I agree with totally), who was still proud of his service and country, a good solid 60 years after the war was over. We chatted a while and this modest man recounted, with humble reservation, some of his duty during the war, quickly giving most of the credit to guys he served with and it struck me how he remembered and respected his comrads, both those dead and alive.

What a guy, and a true American in every respect. He's what makes this country great. I still remember his name, but won't post it, out of respect to his privacy.

Great thread.

I've never seen anything half as funny as some of this stuff. Most of the stuff I've seen has scared the living shit out of me.

I have seen bullet holes throught the ceiling baffles of an indoor range at least five, maybe six, feet above the highest horizontal plane of the target area. I wondered if the roof was bullet proof but had to think it wasn't.

I have also seen lead streaks and chips and ragged holes on and through the concrete block walls and slab floors of an indoor range.

And more holes through the wooden target frames, and furrows in the earth, at outdoor ranges than I could count if I lived a hundred more years.

I have even seen wall-to-wall bullet holes in the partitions between adjacent shooting booths at an indoor range.

That kind of excitement I do not need and would not find funny!

But, as an example of how overmatched some people are when it comes to firearms and shooting them, I did once have to help a guy in a booth to the left of mine about thirty years ago. I was shooting my Gold Cup at an indoor 50 foot range and he was setting up.

He was a friendly guy and asked me what I was shooting. I told him it was a .45 auto. He told me he had a .45 too, which his father had left him, but that he wasn't sure which ammo to use. He said a buddy of his had told him it was a .45 Magna.

.45 Magna? I asked. Yeah. He said. Not sure which ammo to use? I queried. Yeah. He said. Again.

Why don't you show me your gun and the ammo you brought? I inquired, trying to seem helpful instead of just interested in self-preservation.

He proceeded to show me his revolver, which was an old S&W 1917 that looked like some doughboy had dragged it through half of France. He then showed me a half-full box of ancient .45 Colt shells and another of old military arsenal loaded .45 ACP. It looked like Wild West and WWI vintage stuff.

He said to me. This one is too long. Then he said to me. And this one doesn't shoot half the time. Seems to fall right through. Damn things are too short.

[Yeah, that's right, no half moon clips.]

I told him that the "long" Colts would never fit, and straightened him out about the need to use half moon clips with the ACPs or get Auto Rim cartridges.

And then I thumbed back the hammer a few times on his revolver. Enough times to see that the timing was about three weeks off.

I told him that he should send this thing to Fred Sadowski and get it fixed. That it was a menace. That even with the right ammo, it would spit lead to beat all hell, if it would fire at all.

Half-moon clips? Timing? He was baffled by these concepts. What did I mean? He wondered. Out loud.

Moral of the story. Some things, such as and including, without limitation, the care, feeding and shooting of firearms, are just too complicated for some people.

Couple of amusing anecdotes from Australia. I was at my local range a few years back playing around with my 18 inch Mosin Nagant, and was using some VERY load, fiery flashing ex mil ammo. There were two teenagers fooling with a .22 beside me. At one point after a range break I was settling into the bag for my first shot, one of the kids hadn't put his muffs on and was beside my muzzle tinkering with the scope, I was intent on my shot and hadn't noticed. He got such a fright when I touched that flamethrowing eardrum burster off he sort of jumped 3 feet off the ground and just stood there looking at me with tears in his eyes.

Another day I was at the clay target club for a college shoot. There were a few Asian students who were having a go. The Engrish not that good, you see. We were lined up on the stations, one of the Asian guys was loaded and ready to yell "PULL", when he decided to ask a question, and turned this way and that with his muzzles at gut level. We all dove for cover!

My local club had a sight-in day open to the public for a $5 fee you got two targets. These three Middle Eastern guys show up with a SMLE and a sealed tin of 250 rounds of Radway .303 stamped 1938. They cranked off two or three full clips squinting and twitching, and I see two holes in their target. This was two years before 9/11, now. To be helpful, I pointed at the rear sight, and said maybe the sight is loose. "No touch!!" says the one guy, and pushes me away. With that attitude, I decided to not tell these idiots that 1938 ammo was corrosive.

I'm minding my own business at the public range one day, when a guy shows up next to me. He starts shooting and I continue minding my own business. A while later, I look over and he has two bags of shot draped over his gun barrel. One over the end of the stock and one in front of that. So I said, "hey, whatcha do that for?" It seems his gun was kicking to much for him and he was trying to hold the muzzle down. I showed him how to put the shot behind the stock to soften recoil. He then tried again, but was afraid of it now, and was flinching so bad, I could see him flinch before the gun went off. I offered to squeeze off a few for him, just so he knew where it was hitting. The gun was capable of decent groups, so I went ahead and sighted it in for him. Once I paid attention to the gun, I noticed that it was a pre-64 mdl 70, .338. After I noticed that, I thought that I should have let him continue, and tried to buy it off of him at the end. I found out though that it was grandpa's gun and he had just inherited it and wanted to hunt with grandpa's gun. I would have not felt right taking advantage anyway after that.
Chuck

quote:

Some things, such as and including, without limitation, the care, feeding and shooting of firearms, are just too complicated for some people.

Amen to that.

-Spencer

A friend of the family. I guess he is in his 50's now has shot an old 270 bolt action for years, I dont remember what kind it is and it's not very pretty. Everytime he shoots it it will knock his cap off every single time and he won't shoot again until he puts his cap back on. About everytime though his groups are touching. I guess it's funnier if you are actually there.

I was in High School and a fellow football buddy and I are at an indoor range here in Phoenix. We were both plinking away with our pistols when in walks a 40-ish man, short, kind of frumpy looking. He sets up at a position a few down from us, runs a target out to 25yds and unpacks a Sig in .45. While we were reloading a few mags we noticed that he was crouching down behind his position’s table which was maybe 40†off the floor. The table had one of those integral plastic V’s in it. Sort of looks like a rifle’s rear sight and used as a rest for a handgun; but not for shooting off of. He crouches down and rests the Sig in the V, holding it with a classic 60’s FBI left hand cupped under the right hand grip. Meanwhile the rangemaster, who can see all of this through a big glass window behind the firing positions, catches my eye and gives me the “what the hell?†look. I shrug. The man takes about 20 seconds to get the pistol on target, and then lets loose. Boom, BOOM, BRANNNGGG. Three rounds in about a second and a half. The first went down range about target level, the second hit the far wall/trap about a foot from the ceiling and the third slammed into a concrete beam running across the range about 20 feet out from the firing line. Almost immediately after the last shot my buddy (6’3†290) lets out an “Oww!â€. Before the echoes had even stopped the rangemaster was on his way into the range. The round had just clipped the beam sending out a small cloud of concrete dust. I’ll never forget the look on the man’s face as he turned to see my buddy giving him the look of death while pointing at a 1†long, ragged piece of copper jacket that was stuck in his chest (just barely it turned out, a few drops of blood). Choice words were exchanged, and the man looked absolutely shocked when the rangemaster pulled him off the line and got him out of there. Needless to say we ended up receiving a lot of apologies, and a couple of coupons for free range time. Never saw the man at the range again.

quote:

this website scares my co-workers...

Websites like this scare lots of people. I know a couple of people who are actually terrified to even know there are firearms in my home when they visit, even if it's put away and they can't see it.

I'm the opposite of them. I actually get nervous around the people who "hate" guns.

Sad for the military tale by Alberta Canuck...

When I was in Basic at Ft. Sill we had some Mexican guys who got pissed at some other click or gang of Mexicans....

Three were put on ammo detail loading M 16 clips...

Three other Mexicans from the other gang/click were walking off the range when one of the ones on ammo duty picked up an M16 and had a clip in it and started acting like it was jammed and he was trying to clear it, and the entire 20 round clip went off....

it killed two of the other Mexican guys and wounded the third seriously....

That is how it related to me.. as I was on the range in a fox hole when it happened....

However, I definitely saw the two dead bodies and the one that was wounded... Also saw the drills take custody of the one that shot the M 16 and watched the MPs come and pick his ass up....

Never saw him again and never had anything else said about it....

All my drill sgt said as he watched the MPs haul off the guy who did the shooting...." Hello Leavenworth!"....

Sad....

seafire

seafire,
Were you fortunate enough to not have to deal with the flooded/muddy foxholes at the Sill ranges? I sure wasn't. I ended up getting pneumonia when I was there through the winter.

"Funny Things" Consider you are the Range Officer, hear a strange "POP", and see a guy standing on the firing line with the buttstock of a Garand in his right hand, the forend in his left hand, and nothing in between! The post mortem revealed that the action had failed due to metal fatigue. It was a 5 digit sereal number Garand that had been used for basic training for possibly 10 years or more, we could not find sufficient data to verify exactly how many rounds of .30 cal ball it had swallowed, but the result were near catastrophic!!
LLS

quote:

Originally posted by Steel Slinger:
seafire,
Were you fortunate enough to not have to deal with the flooded/muddy foxholes at the Sill ranges? I sure wasn't. I ended up getting pneumonia when I was there through the winter.

I was there in Jan and Feb 1977 and it actually was so dam cold that year... we did not have to worry about that...I was on Brigade Guard one night at a CrossRoads and the temp dropped to about zero and the windchill was about 30 below...They called everybody in from Brigade Guard but our dumbass drill sgt forgot where he put us three....

They had us AWOL....Dipshit...

The ground was frozen all January and then it warmed up in February....we were done one the rifle range by then.. but then we had tons of mudpuddles the drills delighted in making us do push ups in, especially when someone screwed up....

cheers
seafire

Genius next to me can't get on paper after 40 rounds with his 7 Mag. I ask him if he by chance notices anything wrong with his scope? "No that is exactly the way I've been mounting thme for the past 20 years". And the guy actually gets pissed and leaves after I tell him he has been having trouble for the past twenty years and that his scope is rotated so the windage is now the vertical and the vertical is in the windage position.

quote:

Originally posted by Steel Slinger:

quote:

this website scares my co-workers...

Websites like this scare lots of people. I know a couple of people who are actually terrified to even know there are firearms in my home when they visit, even if it's put away and they can't see it.

I'm the opposite of them. I actually get nervous around the people who "hate" guns.

That's actually my signature, not part of my post, and it is intended to be a little ironic...though I am sure a few of my co-workers would be scared....sad...

LOL

Yep, but sometimes you can find truth in irony.

It is a great signature.

We open our range on weekends to the public at time of year.It funny to see the regulars circling the brass bucket like vultures.

The funniest thing I ever saw at the range was me, trying to hit an 8-1/2" x 11" target at 100 yards. It was both hilarious and pitiful.

Today at the range saw a guy blow up his AR-15. I mean completely destroyed! He was real lucky. M1Tanker said he never seen anything like it before. The self appointed gunsmiths were in full force today to. Other than that is was an uneventful day at the range.

The AR-15 destroyer must have used too much of the wrong powder. I was at the range in Warrenton, VA (Clark Brothers) quite a few years ago when a young man was running rounds through his Garand. When cease-fire was called, we bullshitted a little about his gun and in the course of said lip-flapping, he related that he reloaded his shells to the absolute top of the case with powder and then forced the bullet in. I suggested he get a reloading manual and adopt a studied approach but he said the gun could handle the load, no problem. I got out of there post haste...

Some time back, I was out at our local range at the 1-500M silhouette pit. I'm trying out and chrono'ing some .38-55 loads, and a forty-something, buzz-cut fella in a SWAT t-shirt shows up with his twenty-something well-pierced son, and along with an AR-15, wonder semi-auto, scoped, tactical rifle variant of some sort, in .308, and several boxes of his latest, hot handloads. They set up two tables down, and proceed to start blastin' away at the steel silhouettes that another shooter and I had spent the better part of twenty minutes settin' up in 110 degree heat, before their arrival. Ok. I can handle it. People can make an honest mistake like that. The other fella had since left, so it would've been up to me to say something if I'd wanted to anyway, but I was still workin' on my paper targets, and, well, to be honest, this newbie wasn't really hittin' squat anyway.
I watched him for a while, just to be sure that he seemed safe enough, and I continued with my stuff. I'm well involved into what I'm doing, when, after about 20 of his rounds or so, I notice a silence and some in-my-peripheral-vision movement going on over there that made me think "Trouble." So I look over, and there he is, struggling with the bolt, tryin' to get it back, and he's got the muzzle pointed, not quite AT me, but not exactly down range either.(!) This included a prolonged sweep of the overhead steel awning, the concrete slab at the firing line, etc. You get the picture? OK. So remaining as calm as I can, I step back from the line a bit and calmly, and helpfully inquire of him, "Havin' a problem there?" (Big grin frozen on m'face)
And SWATshirt Guy answers back that "Yeah. I've(He's) got this shell stuck in here. For some reason these new reloads are getting stuck and won't eject."
He must've noticed that I'd stopped shooting, left my position at the line, and had circled around so that I was well BEHIND him, and he surmised (more accurately than his shooting, I might add) that I was somewhat uneasy with what he was doing; because he quickly added, "It's a fired round; just a case stuck in there," as he tugs at the bolt a few more times.
I said, " Well, yeah, I was gonna ask you about that, after I saw you pointing it up into awning and all."(Still smiling broadly)
Then, twenty-something-pierced kid steps forward, pointing up at the awning and says, "Yeah, Dad. Looks like some idiot already put a hole in it."
And sure enough, obviously astute and skilled at identifying all kinds of piercings when he sees them, Twenty-something is pointing at a perforation previously performed by some other "pinhead."
"Dad," now being a little more cognizant of his muzzle direction, continues to struggle on with the stuck bolt for a few more minutes, and finally, being possessed of more bicep than brain, manages to rip the bolt free of the still-stuck round. Then he struggles further for awhile , trying to put it back again. Finally, in disgust, he decides to slip it back into the soft case, and hand it off to his son to put in their Jeep, muzzle end first of course(...because we all "know" that a .308 is completely safe once encased in good-old, padded, rip-stop nylon, RIGHT??!)and he says, "I'll take it home and pry it out there. Guess I'm done for the day."
Whereupon I, ever more helpful than smart, offer, "Hey, maybe you can tap that case out, here at the range, instead of in your garage, so you can see what's wrong with it and get it sorted out and still ba able to shoot. I've got a range rod."
He says, "Gee, maybe you're right. Thanks." and proceeds to retrieve the rifle from the case, immediately causing me to regret not keeping my big mouth shut, as he then sweeps the whole up-range while bringing the rifle about to the downrange position. He then borrows my range rod...which, fortunately(maybe yes, maybe no)turns out to be too large a diameter to get down that .30 cal barrel. So, in frustration now, he slams the bolt shut, and actually gets it to reengage the stuck brass. Then, with a mighty tug, no doubt assisted in its purpose by a now cooler rifle, he finally manages to free and eject the offending round, which, naturally, flies out of the receiver hits the concrete and skitters twenty feet to a halt at mine. So, I look down at it lying there. You guessed it; FULLY LIVE ROUND!
Mr. SWATshirt is now sitting there, open mouthed, staring speechless at what he'd practically sworn, a few minutes ago, had been a spent round, and which was now, quite obviously, very unfired, and which, even fewer minutes before, had been chambered, and pointed squarely at his own son's chest. I could see the permutations of what could've happened, either just there, or later, when he'd actually taken the loaded gun home and unsuspectingly, started to work on it with tools; slowly dawn on him and work their way permanently into his well-earned, future, waking nightmares. I didn't have the heart, nor did I think that I had the need to rub it in. The look on his face said it all, and told me that the point had been adequately delivered and driven well home. I just reached down, picked up the round, walked it over and handed it to him. He left pretty quietly after that. Sometimes the tuition is lower than it could've been.

--dockinabox

These are some funny stories and quite a few has given me quite a good laugh. Anyways a few weeks ago I was at the local range testing some swaged bullets in some of my 338's. This young guy sets up on the bench next to me and proceeds to tell his girlfriend how much he has spent on his new Tactical rifle and scope which he paid over a 1,000 bucks for etc etc. I just finished my shooting when this guy with his brand new rifle and scope takes his first shot at the shot he screams as the scope slams into his face and sails onto the ground and hits the concrete face first messing up his 1000 dollar scope but his face was pretty messed up as well it seems to me that he didnt make sure that the scope rings were tight needless to say he just grabbed his stuff and left I couldnt help but laugh.

quote:

Originally posted by Ol` Joe:
I like the guy that comes with a SK and a half dozen magazines, sets up on the 50 yd range and procedes to see how fast he can run them through the rifle. He leaves grinnin` from ear to ear, ready for anything. Check the target he left set up, and it`s got one or two holes in it after he`s sent 200 rds downrange.

Same guys I enjoy......

They leave tons of empty lacquered-steel, berdan primed junk empties all over the firing line, too.....

quote:

Originally posted by Savage99:
Last year I visited a free public range in SC where my friend had moved. I was impressed at how polite and careful everyone was. Two of the shooters had benchrest rifles with inline loading gear.

I had my Swift along in case we went hunting and the range was only 100 yds there. I like the riflemen there.

The nicest, most genuinely friendly people I ever met were in South Carolina- the runners-up were Virginians!

I was at the range recently sighting in my rifles and this guy sitting a couple of benches down asks me "how come your barrel has a bunch of holes hear the tip". I tell him its a muzzle break. He asks "What does it do?" and I sayd it reduces recoil. To which he asks "Can I barrow it to put in on my 270?"

That was just a dumb question. But after every 3 shot group, he wanted to use my spotting scope. I let him do it a couple of times but it was pissing me off because I had to constantly reset to the scope to my target after each of his groups.

He finally sensed that I was getting totally annoyed. So what does he do? We calls cease fire after every 3 shot group, walks down range as slow as possible to the 200 yard target, and walks back just as slow while everyone at the firing like is sitting there steaming. He did this at least 7 times.

On top of that, he had forgotten his keys, so he had jumped the fency with his rifle and equipment. Then he wanted to take my keys to leave, and then leave them in the lock and go home. To which I said, "Hell no".

Kory

My favorite range story is where someone had used Bullseye to reload 223, but the one time I wanted to commit a felony was when an old man and his wife decided to shoot their pistols next to me.

Shot 1: Spent 45 case hits me in the head.
Shot 2: Case hits my riflescope.
Shot 3: Case goes down my shirt collar.

I wave at them and ask them to rent a screen at the target shack They, however ignore me. Their shells continue to land all over me and my bench. The old man says he can't help it due to the semi-auto action of his firearm. I presist. He calls me a jerk.

I almost lost my right to own a firearm that day.

About 15 yrs ago I was a battalion commander at Ft. Benning and had a MASH hospital assigned to my headquarters also. We were at the range doing qualification firing and familarization firing for the MASH nurses with the Beretta 9mm. Right in the middle of the fam firing, you hear the dreaded "Cease Fire, Cease Fire, Medic, Medic" which really ties your gut in knots. I hustled down to the firing position with the problem and found a nurse with blood streaming down her face from a laceration just under her eye. Turns out the "coach" didn't know enough to tell her she shouldn't "hold the pistol close to her face so she could see the sights better" and when she squeezed off the first round, she learned the error of her ways as the slide nailed her pretty good.

Oh, I forgot this one. Last summer while I was at the range, a mom and dad brought their son to the range so he can shoot. I would imagine he was about 10 years old, but it was very appearant the child was mentally retarded. Not a problem, I don't care. However as I'm shooting some groups, the kid gets up to walk down range to look at his target and his parents are sitting there completely unaware of this. My first sitting to my right screms "cease fire" and opens the bolt on my rifle. I don't think I would have hit this kid since I couldn't see him in the scope, but the thought scared the shit out of me. Anyway, the parents get up and start running after the kid. By that time, there was enough comotion that everyone stopped shooting.

Ralph, tell us the Bullseye in the 223 story.

Kory

I had a blessedly short marriage from '98 to 00. I do miss my stepdaughter though. She was a peach, and she absolutely loved to shoot.
Whenever we went to the range I would get Ashleigh set up with a 22lr of some sort (she was 7-9 during those years) and shooting at an NRA 50' rimfire target. As she got better we moved it further down range. She was very oriented to precision, and made fun of the spray and pray crowd; that approach just didn't make sense to her.
One day a Rambolina type moved into the next lane and starts running 45 ACP through his blaster at a high rate of speed. You just knew "Flight of the Valkyries" by Wagner was playing in his head. Ashleigh was getting pissed at all the brass flying by, and occaisionally bonking her on the head.
Rambolina turns to get some more ammunition out of his range bag and sweeps both Ashleigh and me with his muzzle. I was just going to take her out to the outdoor range, but she wasn't having any of that. She starts screaming, "Daddy, that man pointed a gun at my head, he's trying to kill me! You said you only point guns at things you want to kill!!!!" "He pointed a gun at my HEAD!!!!!" "WAAAAAHHHH, WAAAAHHHHH."
The range officer came over to see what was going on.
Ashleigh kicked it into high gear and started getting hysterical. "Why do you want to kill me mister???" "Why are you pointing a gun at my, sob, sob, head?????"
The poor bastard just gets his stuff and leaves. As soon as he closes the door of his car Ashleigh turned the tears off and asked, "how was that dad?"
That girl is going to go far in this world. I just wish step-dads could get visitation.

lawndart

My step-daughter (both of us hardly use the "step") learned to shoot a pistol at 8, by 12, she could shoot a .45ACP with hardball. She also was/is 5'4" and dress size 3. Any of my rifles were no problem. A boyfriend was going to take her out to a range and "Teach her how to shoot."
Upon return she related how she'd outshot him. He broke the stock on his rifle because of it. I said, "You aren't going out with him again."
She said, "I already told him that."

At our local range, shooting mainly 45 Super out of a Kimber, 22 lr out of a Colt Trooper Mark III, and, I keep my seville 45 colt/linebaugh 6 shot around. Having fun with the Kimber, when some guy and his girl show up with a 3 inch, 357 snubbie. Blast is REAL obnoxious, and, the 7 yard target was safe...

We have overheads, so, I keep around some of Buffalobores, 325 grain bullets, at 1550 for just such occassions. I put about 2 cylinders through, giving them some of their own medicine, and they leave.

Next trip, two strapping kids come up next to me, with a brand new 454 Ragin bull, probably 8" barrel. They get the target up, and go to load the gun. The guy at the gunstore had sold them 480 ammo, and they didn't know the range sold 45 colt, so I tell em, or, I say they can give some of my 325's at 1550 a try.

Funny, they didn't want to shoot more then a couple...

One day, we are up at the police range shooting. A bird starts jumping around at 25 yards, on the wire that holds the target up. They could have filled The New Jersey with the amount of lead we put out trying to get that bird. No joy,...

GS

I'm at my local gun club range, mostly shooting My Browning 40 Hipower but also My Marlin 45/70.

A guy I've seen before shows up with a Remington 870 with the cantalevered slug barrel and a Chronograph (a Chrony I think). He proceeds to sight in the dot sight wtih slugs at 25 yards. Then he moves the target stand out the the 50 yard pipe holes and sets up the chrono at about 15 yards.

As he's setting it up several of us are talking to him and he's very proud of the new chrono he's paid $100 for. We are helping him a bit and one of the guys mentions maybe 5 or 10 yards might be a better idea.

Naw the guy says, thats why I zeroed the gun in first, besides I'm shooting slugs I just reloaded and the guy at the store only gave me a velocity correction factor for the chorno at 15 yards.

No doubt you see whats coming next, yes?

Well the guy loads up the 870 and at the next shot blows the Chrony about 20 yards further down the range. Turns out he got a reloaded 12 ga. shell that had #6 shot (as near as we could tell from the hole sizes) loaded in it mixed in with the slug rounds. Bye, bye chrono. The tripod didn't fare very well either!

To say the least the guy was devastated and the rest of us had one hell of a time not laughing out loud. In fact a couple of us had to head out back holding our hands over our mouths.

Well everybody agrees to an instant cease fire and we all helped the guy pick up what was left of the chrono (not much) and he toss's the remains in his car and leaves. A sadder but probably wiser and more careful reloader.

I'm at my local gun club range, mostly shooting My Browning 40 Hipower but also My Marlin 45/70.

A guy I've seen before shows up with a Remington 870 with the cantalevered slug barrel and a Chronograph (a Chrony I think). He proceeds to sight in the dot sight wtih slugs at 25 yards. Then he moves the target stand out the the 50 yard pipe holes and sets up the chrono at about 15 yards.

As he's setting it up several of us are talking to him and he's very proud of the new chrono he's paid $100 for. We are helping him a bit and one of the guys mentions maybe 5 or 10 yards might be a better idea.

Naw the guy says, thats why I zeroed the gun in first, besides I'm shooting slugs I just reloaded and the guy at the store only gave me a velocity correction factor for the chorno at 15 yards.

No doubt you see whats coming next, yes?

Well the guy loads up the 870 and at the next shot blows the Chrony about 20 yards further down the range. Turns out he got a reloaded 12 ga. shell that had #6 shot (as near as we could tell from the hole sizes) loaded in it mixed in with the slug rounds. Bye, bye chrono. The tripod didn't fare very well either!

To say the least the guy was devastated and the rest of us had one hell of a time not laughing out loud. In fact a couple of us had to head out back holding our hands over our mouths.

Well everybody agrees to an instant cease fire and we all helped the guy pick up what was left of the chrono (not much) and he toss's the remains in his car and leaves. A sadder but probably wiser and more careful reloader.