Give us some gun stories!

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KriegHund

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I know you have them! I demand!

Anywho, Post any funny/entertaining stories you may have, and i know some of you do.

I dont have any sadly, or perhaps thatd a good thing.
 
Well I was out shooting one time and met a guy who was firing an 03A3 Springfield. He seemed like a nice guy, so I struck up a conversation when a cease fire was called to change targets. I noticed that his forehead was bleeding a little bit, but I figured he scratched himself or something. Anyway, he asked me if I knew anything about .30.06 ammo and I told him yes, ask away. He brought me over to his station and showed me a bunch of fired cases. Lots of them were split completely down the side. He was bleeding because some of the ammo was rupturing so bad that gas was leaking back and blowing bits of brass at his face. I advised his to stop using that ammo and to consider getting the rifle checked by a gunsmith.
 
Some years ago when I was a youngster in my 20's I was a member of a gun club that opened its ranges to the public before deer season for sight-in.

I was working one day as a range safety officer when a father and his teenage sun came in to sight in a .30/30 they'd just mounted a 'scope on. I saw the 'scope was mounted way, WAY far back, and - politely - suggested to the father that the eye relief looked dangerously short.

He frowned, and said, "DID I ASK FOR YOUR ADVICE? NO? THEN KEEP IT TO YOURSELF UNTIL I DO ASK FOR IT!" He then proceeded to tell his son how he hated busybodies butting in, how I didn't know what I was doing, etc. The son just ate it up, grinning at me since his old man had just put me in my place, and had done it in front of a pretty big crowd. (Range was busy.)

Well, the father settled in, and with the first shot the 'scope made a DEEP cut in his eyebrow. Blood everywhere - running down the guy's face, all over his shirt, on the gunstock, on the shooting bench - the kid was frantic, but between the two of them, they had enough handkerchiefs to staunch the flow.

Once everyone (the range was crowded) settled down, I approached the guy, who was directing his son to wipe the blood off the gun. While holding a bloody rag to his forehead, he looked up at me and said "I SUPPOSE YOU'RE GOING TO SAY 'I TOLD YOU SO'"

I replied that I didn't have to - he'd just said it himself.

But then I suppose I did something impolitic, which I probably wouldn't do today - I turned to the kid and said "Let this be a lesson to you - when he tells you something in the future, just remember that your father really isn't very smart. Go see your mother for advice."

The look on the father's face, still holding a bloody rag to his forehead, was priceless.
 
The FACECRUSHER

When I was a kid, my dad's brother did something similar. I don't even remember what type of rifle it was, only that it was a big, absurdly powerful hunting rifle. My uncle had had a plate fixed to it that said "Bonecrusher."

Now, my uncle is an idiot. You know the type... did well in school, then made and continues to make bad choices, and never escapes mediocrity... he was always broke, and so when he decided he needed a scope on his rifle, he went to Wally World and bought the cheapest one he could find. Dad commented that it's supposed to go on a much smaller rifle, like a .22. In order to see through the sight, you had to put the scope RIGHT up to your face.

So I guess you can see where this is going. He takes my dad out, and before dad gets a chance to put on hearing protection, he raises it to hit an old bird feeder (this is somewhat rural area, but there are neighboring houses), fires it, hits the feeder, then stumbles to the ground and starts bleeding everywhere from above his eye. Dad didn't let me help him because he didn't want me to catch any blood-borne diseases. *sigh*

He needed stitches, but insisted that he'd be fine if he just bandaged it up.

He eventually fell on hard times (again) and sold my dad the gun. When he inevitably wanted to buy it back, dad had the faceplate replaced with one called "FACECRUSHER." It was priceless.

Man, that was a sad, sad guy.
 
Moe money than brains...

My brother-in-law and I were at the range back in 1999 ( ya know, before TEOTWAWKI) and met two gentlmen who obviously had more brains than money.

They were shooting a Barret .50cal M82A1 at twenty five yards, standing, with NO sights, and couldn't figure out why they couldn't hit the cardboard box they had set up as a target.

I was drooling, obviously, and the guy finally asked if I'd like to shoot it. I politely declined, but asked if he had considered putting a scope on the rifle. His reply was that the gun and ammo cost soooooo much, he really couldn't afford a scope for it.

I shook my head and wondered off, as far away as I could, to be honest.
 
Gun story

I had a Ruger Old Army black powder pistol at one time. A buddy and I had gone down to the hunt club to shoot, he wanted to shoot the Old Army. I handed it to him, and turned back to what I was doing. I turned around to see that he put his weak hand on top of a fence post and had rested his strong hand sort of on top of it. It didn't occure to me that anything was wrong and he pulled the trigger to quick to do anything about it anyway.

At the shot he screamed and jumped up shaking his left hand. I thought the pistol had "chain fired", but it turned out what had happened was the gases from the barrel cylinder gap had blasted his hand. There was a stripe of what looked like black powder granuals and burned grease (from the Bore Butter" over the ends of the chambers) across the top of his hand that took months to go away.
 
so i'm out shooting with a friend of mine and we're shooting at those little exploding targets that you have to hit a red circle about an inch and a half wide to make 'em go bang. my friend is having trouble with the scope on his 10/22; every time he thinks he has it zeroed and moves over to shoot the exploding target he's way off. turned out the crosshairs were actually moving with each shot (cheapo tasco). i see he's having trouble and, being a smartass i tell him something like "you suck, watch," and i shoot the target with my p90. we're probably about 15yds away and i didn't expect to hit it, especially not with the first round but the target goes "bang" in a big way and, of course, my friend is duly impressed. now you know i'm never going to admit that it was mostly luck but of course it was.
 
I bought one of those Mosin-Nagant scope/scope mount combos and got it mounted by a local smith. I guess I was lucky I was wearing safety glasses. I had to get so close to the scope to see that it bumped my glasses. It wasn't near as bad as those stories though. I have a used Leopold scope on it now that works fine, though it might be a waste of a scope.
 
About 20 yrs ago my younger brother (20 at the time) had a scope mounted on his Ithaca slug gun. He brought it home late one evening shortly before deer season and it was too dark to sight it in.
The next day my youngest brother (16yrs old)decided to sight it in for him.
The first shot opened a big gash over his eye.
When the older of the two got home he had a good laugh about it.He grabbed the gun and said,"What a wuss ain't you man enough to hold on to that thing. Let me show you how it should be done."
Well as you probably already figured I now had two brothers with gashes over thier eyes.
He was so afraid of that scope after that he missed 5 or 6 deer from flinching when he tried to shoot. The gun no longer has a scope.
 
More fun at the range . . .

Again, as before, I was working as safety officer on the range public sight-in days. A trio of gentlemen of the Asiatic persuasion showed up to sight in a new rifle - between the three of them, they had enough English to follow range commands, so they weren't a safety issue. They assured me their "army" experience (I didn't ask which army) taught them all about guns.

Their rifle was a beautiful, long-barreled .22 rimfire, the kind they use in the Olympics. Fully adjustable forward palm rest, adjustable pistol grip, adjustable buttplate, micrometer sights, every bell and whistle you can think of.

On this, using high "see through" mounts, they had put a big - and I mean BIG - Zeiss target scope. The whole ensemble ran, I'm sure, to multiple thousands of dollars.

Well, at 50 yards, the rifle wasn't shooting they way they wanted it to - I gather the point of impact didn't coincide with the 'scope's reticle.

So . . . in an effort to "fix" the problem, they sort of wedged the rifle barrel in the legs of the shooting bench while pulling - hard! - on the stock, in order to bend the barrel back into the proper position. :eek:

I didn't know whether to laugh . . . or to cry.
 
Back as the whole Y2K scare was building up, I went to a local gunshop to do some gun case drooling and pick up some ammo. I watched as two guys came in, dressed in nice clothes, both wearing Rolex watches. They walk up to the counter, and each asks to see an AR-15. Counter guy shows them the guns, which they both handled appropriately. It was clear that they had some knowledge of what they were doing, in terms of gun handling. Both then ask to see a Wilson custom 1911. Again, they look like they know what they are doing. Both then ask to buy the AR, the 1911, ten AR mags, 6 1911 mags, 500 rounds of .223, and 200 rounds of .45. Counter guy rings them both up at a couple of thousand a piece. The taller one then asked "Hey, if Y2K doesn't go down like everyon is afraid, will you buy these back?"

"Sure will, for $.50 on the dollar." counter guy says. To which both agree, and leave.

Darn the luck, I'm back on President's Day when these two come back in and seel the guns back for half price, along with the mags and ammo. All still in original packaging with the sales tape on the boxes.

Would have killed for $2,000 of mad money myself that day...
 
WHy anyone would spend all that money and then return it is beyond me... "I might need it one this day but not on any otehr day..."

Must remember to be careful with scopes now...
 
Told this before already, but...
So, like, I'm green as hell, on my first trip to an indoor range.

The other customers, regulars, are all done shooting and just sitting around.
They just keep snickering at this sorry idiot walking up and downrange every time
to hang up fresh cardboard.

I'd never heard of motorized target carriers 'til then.
I thought that was a lightswitch or some kind of buzzer beside me.

:eek:
 
I originally posted this story in this thread on TFL, but it fits here too, so here goes:
My "coolest" (and most painful!) shooting experience was with a 4-bore muzzle-loading flint-lock elephant gun! This thing was made sometime in the middle third of the 19th century, IIRC. The soft lead ball weighed a full 4 ounces, and was powered by a powder charge measured in drachms rather than grains! The idiot - er, sorry, venerable old gentleman - who owns this beast offered me the chance to shoot it, and like a fool I accepted! He loaded it up, sat down in his rocker on the porch, and asked me to stand next to an oak tree in his front garden and fire at a target he had set up on a tree stump about 30 yards away. Unfortunately, I didn't look behind me before firing... next thing I remember was going base-over-tip into his cactus garden, to the sound of his triumphant cackling from the porch!

After digging myself out of the cactus garden (and digging the thorns out of my backside and sundry other portions of anatomy), I did some calculation of the recoil impulse of this beast (all the while rubbing my very sore shoulder, which still recalls the impact in rainy weather!). Turns out the recoil momentum is something over 220 foot-pounds, or somewhere between 7 and 8 times that of a typical .30-06! I've fired .577 and .600 Nitro Express rifles since then, but nothing has ever come close to that kick!

(If any of you ever plan to go hunting in South Africa, and will find yourselves in the vicinity of the town of George in the southern Cape, please contact me before you leave - I'll give you a letter of introduction to the owner of the beast, and invite you to have a go with it. He needs his light entertainment, after all!)
 
LMAO,

Preacherman wins...

:D

That Asiatic sight adjustment story is a close second though! :eek:

OK, I got one:

Back in the Navy days one day they took a bunch of us out to a range for .45 refresher course which culminated in our each firing 5 rounds downrange at some junk they had laying around. Very official. :rolleyes: Most of us hadn't shot a .45 since boot camp and even THEN only 5 rounds. I was luckier but that's another story. Anyhow, the guy next to me who's face I can remember but not his name was an absolute nervous wreck. I ask him what the problem is and he says something like, "I hate this :cuss: !!"

So when it's time to shoot our 5 rounds he raises his gun, turns his head sideways, CLOSES HIS EYES and BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM!! pulls the trigger as fast as he can 5 times, his gun firing a little higher with each round until the last two are launched way up into the air. I'm thinking things like, "Well, there's one guy I can't count on when the chips are down!" :scrutiny:
 
New jacket

I had just bought a new jacket. So new that I hadn't tested it to determine whether or not I should cut off the draw string about the waist. I normally test my clothing and gear for weeks if not months before I wear it in the street. (Read anal)

That night I received a call from my mom's neighbor. She was frantic and insistent that I check my mom's house out, that a light was on in her house and my mom was supposed to be at my brother's house. I tried to convince the neighbor to call the Sheriff's Office.., minimum response time-45 minutes.

I lost.

It was cold that night so instead of putting on my tried and true but really worn out jacket, I put on the new one.keep me warmer. I tied the drawstring in the small of my back, did one test draw. I was packing a Colt GM with two spare mags.

I arrived at my mom's house, cussing the cold, the neighbor, and then the fact that the spare bedroom window was partly open. I saw that the side gate to the rear yard was partly open and I parked my car so that it could act as a bullet catcher (hopefully) between the gate and the bedroom window, then I shined the maglite on the window. I saw some light flickering in the window so I put my hand on the GM grip.

All of the sudden the gate to my left moved, I drew the GM quickly..or at least tried to, the string got caught on the back of the hammer..the cat yeowled at me since my frantic movement caught it by surprise.

The hairs on my neck stood up as I still did the deadly dance of trying to draw my GM out of its holster technique. The nylon string held it in place. The cat ran off, I was still worrying about the light in the window, when the neighbor's husband came out of the front door, of course with a flashlight in his hand. Staring at me as I drew my folder left handed I slashed the string and my jacket while cavorting in his light.

Of course, he said, "So you're the Nutty son that your mom talks about, ey?" I mumbled something stupid as I jammed the GM back in it's holster out of his sight, praying that I would just shoot myself then and there in my embarrassment and my chagrin. He got impatient because I didn't come over quickly so he decided to check the house himself...my mom lets them have a key to her house for just that occasion. Of course his wife didn't tell me that.

It only took me seven minutes to get to mom's house.

I locked up, went home then threw my slashed jacket in the rubbish that night and read a good book until dawn came. :neener:
 
Another jacket story

I was working a restaurant in Jacksonville in the early '90s. We were next door to a rough-and-tumble hillbilly bar, and sometimes we got some of their...flotsam. Anyhow, they kicked out two guys who'd had too much to drink. The guys went home, got a rifle and came back to get revenge.

By the time they got back, both the bar and the place I worked had closed down. I walked one of my coworkers home, not because I had the hots for her but because it was dark and all, and we stopped at the front of her apartment.

I turned around and looked towards the restaurant in time to see a dented-up old Valiant slow down to a near stop in the road. There was the sound of breaking glass, gunshots, then a police siren. The hillbillies shot up the fronts of both (closed) businesses, then floored the gas. Problem was, the shooter was a) not very bright and b) blotto on cheap beer, and in the process of settling into his seat and pulling the rifle back into the car, he discharged several rounds accidentally into the engine block, disabling the car and allowing the police to take them down.

Once the smoke cleared, I went back to check the restaurant, and there was my 2-week-old, $180 leather jacket, which I had left draped over a barstool. It now had a nice clean 30.06 hole in the back, just below the right shoulder.

Had I thought of it, I could have really gotten some mileage out of that at parties...
 
I’ve heard this story about my Dad and my Grandfathers double barrel 10 gauge several times. It seems when Dad was about 12 years old he snuck my Grandfathers 10 gauge out. A neighbor kid bet my Dad a quarter he would be afraid to fire both barrels at once. Dad, always the schemer, leaned up against a tree, tucked the stock of the shotgun under his arm and put its butt against the tree trunk. Then he yanked both triggers. As near as he can figure, the gun came straight up. When he regained his senses, he had two black eyes, a badly cut lip and his nose has never been straight since. The neighbor kid, who then owed him a quarter, was nowhere to be found and my Grandfathers shotgun had a cracked stock. Dad claims he eventually did get his quarter though.
 
Funny clip but very badly mistaken caption.

The gun is chambered in a wildcat cartridge called .577 TRex. It has ballistics that are very similar to a .50 BMG. However, you will note that the rifle is of relatively normal size and weight and does not have a muzzle brake. Unlike a typical .50 BMG rifle which weighs upwards of 35lbs and has a muzzle brake as big as your head.

The shooter knew exactly what he was getting into and did it anyway. If you go to the Accurate Reloading website you can see a good number of videos of various intrepid shooters getting pounded by that monster.

Here's a writeup on the cartridge:

http://www.accuratereloading.com/577tyr.html
 
Several years ago in a galaxy far away, about a month before deer season started, a buddy of mine and I met at Carter's Country (a gun store with range attached in Houston, Texas) to sight in our deer rifles. While getting set up to shoot, about two benches down from us there was a guy shooting a Weatherby Mark V .300 Weatherby, and he was wearing full camoflage clothing and a camo doo-rag. Everytime he shot that rifle, this wanna be Rambo would get up and cry and whine about how his shoulder hurt, and did it yelling at the top of his lungs, disturbing the other shooters. The rangemaster called a cease fire, and my buddy and I went down range to change targets. The targets at this range are attached to a large piece of chicken wire with clothespins. After the range was clear and the rangemaster called commence fire, I proceeded to shoot all four of the clothespins holding his paper target on the chicken wire with my heavy barreled Winchester Model 70 .308, and then watched his target fall to the ground. Oh man, you should have heard him cuss. Was it right? No. Did he shut up right after that? Yes he did.

Just my .02,
LeonCarr
 
best stupid human trick witnessed to date a former shooting freind ( this guy is dangerous thats why former ) was prepping to go home when I asked him if he was sure he unloaded the shells from his shotgun , since I only counted 3 shots and he loaded 4 shells , he said I was mistaken and proceeded to throw his shotgun into the trunk of his Impala ss and guess what happened ?? your right!! :what: it removed the right quarter panel of the car . missing my Truck ... :eek: if he would have hit it it would have been a justifiable homicide . :fire: or would that been a mercy killing .....
 
I am no shotgunner, I just happen to own a shotgun.

Back in '95 or so I used my tax refund to buy a Mossberg 590 Mariner and my best friend bought himself a 500 Mariner. We got some clay pigeons and went to the outdoor range at Calverton, on Long Island.

Well, my 590 came in the box with the pistol grip attached, and the shoulder stock packed in the box. I thought that the pistol grip was cool-looking, and good enough for my very very informal trap shooting endeavor with my buddy.

Well, he was doing alright, for our first time, because his 500 had the stock installed. I was doing crappy with the pistol grip. I was missing plenty.

So with each shot, I gradually held my right hand, and the pistol grip, closer and closer to my dumb ol' mug, trying to increase my accuracy. (YES, I was trying to shoot clay pigeons fired from one of those mechanical doohickeys with a pistol grip-equipped 12 ga.)

As you can guess, I eventually had the gun so far toward my face that recall from the next shot banged it right into my upper lip. I was instantly VERY worried that I might have cracked or loosened teeth, it had hit that hard. Well, I had not, but I had split my lip pretty nicely (though not bad enough to need stitches). D'oh!

The last bit of fun was when I went to a pharmacy and got Neosporin to put on the lip wound. I applied it, and in a few minutes could not feel my lip. It was then that I looked at the package and discovered that I had bought the anesthetic variety of Neosporin. :p

I went home and put the damned pistol grip away and installed the shoulder stock like I should have from the start.

-Jeffrey
 
Concealed Carry Follies

For those of you that might be from some Commie state, be aware that Texas has "shall issue" concealed carry.

I had just recently obtained my concealed handgun license, and was carrying a BHP in a Milt Sparks Versa-Max II holster. I was wearing an untucked "fisherman's shirt" from Academy Sports over it, so it was well concealed . . . or so I thought.

I was standing in a slow-moving checkout line at a very crowded Fry's Electronics and, naturally enough, had struck up a conversaton with some of the other folks in line. When all of a sudden, the guy behind me says, in a loud booming voice with a pronounced hillbilly accent,

Say, y'all wouldn't happen to have a GUN on ya, would ya?

My heart went into my throat for an instant - was I "printing?" Had my shirt ridden up? Why was everyone looking at me?

"Uh . . . why do you ask?" was my quiet response.

'Cause if'n y'all did, I could just have y'all SHOOT me now, so I wouldn't have to wait in this dang line no more!"

I made a show of patting myself down and announced "Doggone it, I KNEW I was forgetting something this morning!"

Laughter all around . . . even though I chuckle about it now, it wasn't funny at the time . . . and I still think . . . if that hillbilly only knew! :D
 
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