NOW PLAYING: The M1 Does *MY* Talking

27 July, 1999
While the majority of the world was hysterical about John-John and his attempt to turn an airplane into a submarine, my brother, my Pa and I headed for the rifle range to try out, among other things, the "new" M1 Garand rifle I just got. Tony at Orion 7 built one of his "select grade" M1s for me, and I couldn't wait to test it.

I don't have much experience with high-powered rifles -- I had .22s and shotguns growing up in northern Minnesota. Pa didn't like venison (though I do) so we didn't go deer hunting and there were no "big" rifles in our house.

In early July, I went to an M1 Rifle Clinic put on by the Civilian Marksmanship Program, where an old Master Gunnery Sergeant spent about 3 hours teaching us how to dismantle, clean, adjust the sights on, load and fire the U.S. Rifle, Caliber .30 M1. Whereupon we were paired up, and sent to the range.

My partner was an eye doctor, and we started out pulling targets in the "pits." We marked and scored the shots for the first two squads on our target -- though we never met the guys doing the shooting. For me, that was an interesting experience, and the first time I've ever heard the supersonic "crack" of a rifle bullet as it passed by.

Eventually it was our turn on the line, and I was first. After watching Gunny show us how to load the rifle, both the Doc and I were a little concerned about our thumbs -- and I'd read about "M1 Thumb" more than once. But after our "Coach" showed us how it was done again up close, we made a few tentative tries at loading our Garand, and it wasn't so scary. Neither of us caught our digits in the M1's action. Since I never heard any howls of pain and agony along the line, I conclude that no one else got their thumb smashed, either.

The targets were 200 yards away, and while they looked mighty big when we were standing right next to them in the pits, from two football fields away those things were a lot smaller. I couldn't see the rings in the target -- I just aimed for the black "ball" on the top of my front sight.

We started out prone, Gunny loaned me his old service shooting jacket and a mat to lay on, while the Coach adjusted the sling on the M1 and showed me how to hold it. When the range was declared "hot," I fired a few "sighters" and we got the sights adjusted properly. Then we ran through the course of fire:

• 20 rounds slow fire, prone
• 10 rounds rapid fire, prone
• 10 rounds slow fire, sitting
• 10 rounds slow fire, standing

I scored 377 out of a possible perfect 500, which I guess wasn't horrible for my first time out. I hit the X-ring (bulls-eye) once, and that made my day. Though I had a few outright "misses" (i.e., no points), I always managed to put the bullet on the paper of the target. For a rifle that was likely 40 or 50 years old and had been through one or two wars, it sure was a sweet shooting piece of iron.

Afterwards, I waited semi-patiently for my own M1 to arrive, and it soon did. It was gorgeous! New walnut stock, new barrel -- the receiver was from the Springfield Armory production of August, 1944 -- but it, too, looked brand new. I couldn't wait for Pa to show up on his birthday so we could try it out.

We spent a good while plinking with .22 rifles, first -- Pa had brought along his old pump-action .22 (which his dad owned -- it was at least 70 years old) and it was still remarkably accurate. Eventually we loaded up the M1.

I took four shots to sight it in, just needed a click down on the rear sight after the first one and the next three-shot group looked good, so I handed the rifle to Dad.

He'd trained with an M1 when he was in the Army, but it'd been a long time since he'd held or shot one. We put a silhouette target up at 100 yards and tried to take out the "bad guy" attacking our position.

Pa nailed the target a few times and handed the rifle off to my brother, who had never fired anything bigger than a .22 (as far as I know) before. I think the recoil of the first shot surprised him a bit -- that .30'06 cartridge packs a punch, and you have to take it to give it. Physics and all that. He got another surprise when the empty clip "pinged" out of the rifle, too. But after a reload, he sent a few more bullets downrange and gave it to me for the final three shots.

The first and third shots were alright, an 8 and a 9 ring, but my bro' was spotting for me through the binocs and on my second shot rather rudely informed me that I'd bulls-eye'd the target. Dead center, about an inch above the "X."

I need more practice, but it sure is fun -- might have to think about getting into some high-powered rifle competition shooting...

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