Monday, May 08, 2006
AAR Part 2
I was a little lackluster in my first post.
Day one, I was shooting the Browning .300 WSM. I did alright with it outside of shifting it onto my collar bone, every once in a while. That can be a bad thing.
Accuracy was good and by the "DAY" I was detonating out to 650 yards.
Second day of the clinic was much more educational. I learned about shit you can do with a sling that I never thought possible. Unfortunately, I had, for all intents and purposes, blown out my shoulder on the first day.
The Old Man did slightly better. The M1A provided less recoil and held the zero like a champ. He shot through the clinic, but also experienced some fatigue on the "DAY." I probably detonated more shit with his rifle than I did mine.
Of course, there was the contrary little shit. On day 2 of the clinic, he had a 6" target that would not bow. I have no idea how many rounds he spent trying to obliterate the bastard, but it wasn't enough. Next up I did the same thing. We were both doing hits within an inch of the sumbitch, but just couldn't get it on.
As such, we chose to relinquish our obsession to another willing soul. That soul happened to be the President's 100 fellow I mentioned in the previous post. As it was only at 400 yards, he tried to take it down with a .45-70 lever. Much the same, he was all over it and couldn't punch the little fucker. A little later he took the obstinate fuck out with a .300 WSM. I was just glad it was dead.
Below is the Old Man's favorite pic. The tongue of flame is, what I think, attracted his attention.
Day one, I was shooting the Browning .300 WSM. I did alright with it outside of shifting it onto my collar bone, every once in a while. That can be a bad thing.
Accuracy was good and by the "DAY" I was detonating out to 650 yards.
Second day of the clinic was much more educational. I learned about shit you can do with a sling that I never thought possible. Unfortunately, I had, for all intents and purposes, blown out my shoulder on the first day.
The Old Man did slightly better. The M1A provided less recoil and held the zero like a champ. He shot through the clinic, but also experienced some fatigue on the "DAY." I probably detonated more shit with his rifle than I did mine.
Of course, there was the contrary little shit. On day 2 of the clinic, he had a 6" target that would not bow. I have no idea how many rounds he spent trying to obliterate the bastard, but it wasn't enough. Next up I did the same thing. We were both doing hits within an inch of the sumbitch, but just couldn't get it on.
As such, we chose to relinquish our obsession to another willing soul. That soul happened to be the President's 100 fellow I mentioned in the previous post. As it was only at 400 yards, he tried to take it down with a .45-70 lever. Much the same, he was all over it and couldn't punch the little fucker. A little later he took the obstinate fuck out with a .300 WSM. I was just glad it was dead.
Below is the Old Man's favorite pic. The tongue of flame is, what I think, attracted his attention.
