Sharpshooters

[<RonaldS842@aol.com>]

Hi all-

   Had lunch yesterday with an old buddy. We started reminiscing and I was 
telling him about Ed, Mike, Cookie and all the rest of you guys who give me 
so much enjoyment from the thing we have in common. The fact that we had 
different jobs makes it all the more interesting.
   We were going to school in 1950 and there were no college deferments in 
those days so we were somewhat apprehensive about being drafted. Military 
recruitment was in high gear and we opted for volunteering, he to the Army 
and a bus ride to Fort Ord on the beautiful Monterrey Peninsula and me to the 
Air Force and the overnight cross country Pullman train trip to Texas.
   Well, the talk got around to the fact that we had at least one thing in 
common and that was earned on the rifle range. We had qualified as 
"sharpshooters" somewhere between Marksman and Expert and got that little 
badge with the bar underneath to prover it. I understand that those totally 
inept on the range were, naturally, later assigned to rifle platoons.
   I had to qualify with the short little rifle we called the 30 caliber 
"carbine". He qualified with the more formidable M-1 and told me about the 
infamous M-1 thumb, the painful consequence of improper clip loading. But we 
were both somewhat mystified by these cosmoline covered shoulder weapons. 
   For him the results of the rifle range were disconcerting. Less than 15% 
of the troops qualified initially. The ones who did qualify were assigned to 
the target pits the following morning while the remainder were subject to 
another day of cordite headaches.
   My friend was in the target pits on number eighteen and he could hear the 
loudspeaker; "ready on the right! Ready on the left!" When the shooting began 
it sounded like a thousand ill-tempered bees. "Pull and paste targets!" 
   He said he drew the cumbersome apparatus into the pit and inspected the 
target. Nothing. Then he waved Maggie's Drawers (for those from Palm Beach 
County that is the red flag denoting a non-hit) overhead. Two more rounds. 
Nothing. Jeez he thought his guy was either blind or suffering from severe 
palsy. 
   Just then an angry 1st Lieutenant stormed over to the position. "Let me 
see that target," he demanded. He examined the clearly uncut rings. "There!" 
he exclaimed. "Right there!! " He was pointing to the perfectly intact black 
bull's-eye. He picked a doweled cardboard marker and stabbed it squarely in 
the center. "Run it up!" he ordered. "This company will qualify. Every 
goddamned one of them!"
   It suddenly occurred to my friend that an infantry company mightn't be the 
ideal unit with whom to visit Korea. 
   But my friend served as a 2nd Lt. platoon leader in Korea for his tour, 
survived, and was discharged a Captain to return to school. Still a boy but a 
lot older and wiser.

Ron