MilShooter
New member
I remember several "firsts" with firearms. My very first time was with my Dad, who asked me if I wanted to go with him to "shoot rats" in the garbage dump located about a block from our house. It was evening and "we" took his Winchester Model 1906 pump action .22 caliber rifle. I was almost 5 years old. He helped me shoot it several times but I missed every darned rat I tried to aim at.
About a year later, we moved to southern Georgia and a friend from work asked my Dad to go quail hunting with him. Dad accepted and brought me along, telling my Mom that I was going to help flush the birds and act as their loyal retriever! We were kind of poor, so Dad only had a 20 gauge bolt-action shotgun from Montgomery Ward. His friend brought along 2 extra guns that day - a beautiful over/under and one of the old style Browning "Humpback" autos in 20 gauge. My Dad chose the Browning.
As we walked the pine forest that day, my eyes were like saucers, trying to spot the elusive quail. Until his death a couple of years ago, Dad joked with me about acting like an overgrown beagle that day - minus the slobbering! Well into the hunt, they came across a bunch of quail who were sitting tight. Instead of sending me in to flush them, the two men calmly and thoroughly instructed me in the operation of the Browning. My Dad's friend helped to support the forearm of the gun while my Dad was behind me (probably to keep me from being toppled) while helping me to aim. Then he threw some rocks into the covey of quail and they exploded. Although I managed to get off two shots, I failed to connect on anything. I suppose it would have helped if I kept my eyes open. But the rush I got from actually shooting this huge shotgun never left me.
Two years later, my Dad was recalled to active duty in support of the planning and equipping of the ill-fated Bay of Pigs Invasion (Dad was a logistics expert). We lived in on-post housing at Ft. Lee, VA and he was able to join the post's pistol shooting team. He really excelled in that odd looking stance of one-handed shooting with the weak hand in the pocket. But he regularly brought me to the range. There, I learned to shoot the Model 1911 - firing a minimum of one box of ammo every time he went to practice. Then it was my job to field strip and clean the gun. To this day, the 1911 is my favorite pistol and I will always keep my Dad's personal 1911 which was given to me before his death. And to this day, I am magically transported to the early 1960's with the smell of Hoppes No. 9 solvent.
The funny antecedent to this missive is that parents absolutely refused to allow me to have a BB gun. They considered the BB gun to be too dangerous for a kid to have. Instead, I was given the Winchester Model 1906 and told to use it responsibly. Together with the 1911, the 1906 sits proudly in my gun safe. It isn't much of a "looker", but I shoot it occasionally bring it to the range where I am flooded with warm memories of the time I spent with my Dad.
As I read the other posts here, I realized that most of us had similar experiences - a bond of brothers - who were exposed to firearms at an early age and began their love for firearms that has endured the test of long years. I'm glad to be amongst such a wonderful group of folks who have so many shared, similar experiences and memories. Thanks to the OP for bringing this up.
About a year later, we moved to southern Georgia and a friend from work asked my Dad to go quail hunting with him. Dad accepted and brought me along, telling my Mom that I was going to help flush the birds and act as their loyal retriever! We were kind of poor, so Dad only had a 20 gauge bolt-action shotgun from Montgomery Ward. His friend brought along 2 extra guns that day - a beautiful over/under and one of the old style Browning "Humpback" autos in 20 gauge. My Dad chose the Browning.
As we walked the pine forest that day, my eyes were like saucers, trying to spot the elusive quail. Until his death a couple of years ago, Dad joked with me about acting like an overgrown beagle that day - minus the slobbering! Well into the hunt, they came across a bunch of quail who were sitting tight. Instead of sending me in to flush them, the two men calmly and thoroughly instructed me in the operation of the Browning. My Dad's friend helped to support the forearm of the gun while my Dad was behind me (probably to keep me from being toppled) while helping me to aim. Then he threw some rocks into the covey of quail and they exploded. Although I managed to get off two shots, I failed to connect on anything. I suppose it would have helped if I kept my eyes open. But the rush I got from actually shooting this huge shotgun never left me.
Two years later, my Dad was recalled to active duty in support of the planning and equipping of the ill-fated Bay of Pigs Invasion (Dad was a logistics expert). We lived in on-post housing at Ft. Lee, VA and he was able to join the post's pistol shooting team. He really excelled in that odd looking stance of one-handed shooting with the weak hand in the pocket. But he regularly brought me to the range. There, I learned to shoot the Model 1911 - firing a minimum of one box of ammo every time he went to practice. Then it was my job to field strip and clean the gun. To this day, the 1911 is my favorite pistol and I will always keep my Dad's personal 1911 which was given to me before his death. And to this day, I am magically transported to the early 1960's with the smell of Hoppes No. 9 solvent.
The funny antecedent to this missive is that parents absolutely refused to allow me to have a BB gun. They considered the BB gun to be too dangerous for a kid to have. Instead, I was given the Winchester Model 1906 and told to use it responsibly. Together with the 1911, the 1906 sits proudly in my gun safe. It isn't much of a "looker", but I shoot it occasionally bring it to the range where I am flooded with warm memories of the time I spent with my Dad.
As I read the other posts here, I realized that most of us had similar experiences - a bond of brothers - who were exposed to firearms at an early age and began their love for firearms that has endured the test of long years. I'm glad to be amongst such a wonderful group of folks who have so many shared, similar experiences and memories. Thanks to the OP for bringing this up.
