Tag Archives: military

In defense of the 1911, and all others.

I don’t know how any of those hundreds of thousands of GI’s who carried 1911’s ever made it home alive… All with FMJ, too! It’s not about the tool, it’s about how you use it, maintain it, and train with it. Capacity is a factor, of course, as are many other things, but anyone who wants to try to tell me that 1911’s are unreliable and finicky and hard to work on I will HAPPILY take to a VFW hall of your choice and let the guys and gals there show you how fast someone who has TRAINED WITH THEIR WEAPON SYSTEM can tear down, clean, and reassemble one, and then we’ll go to the range and they can show you how horribly these guns shoot. Sure, it’s a 100 year old design, and there are newer, perhaps better designs, but the 1911 is NOT some mystical anachronism. Strangely, the United States Marine Corps just went BACK to a modified 1911 for their Close Quarter Battle Pistol. You can prefer a newer design, you can find it to be something that works better for you, but this bullshit of people saying it’s an unreliable and incapable firearm is getting on my nerves. Pick what works best for YOU and stop telling other people why they’re wrong. The gun YOU want is the gun YOU should shoot, use, carry, whatever. But don’t dog on someone else because they’ve decided to go a different route. If one design were the be all and end all, everyone would make it, carry it and use it and nothing else would need to be sold. the 1911 has stood the test of time, has been copied, modified, upgraded and made in nearly every caliber you can think of from .22LR to 32acp, 380acp, 9mm, .38 super, .40 S&W, 10mm, .45 ACP and yes, even .357 magnum. If it were such an inferior design, no one would bother.

Personally, if I wanted a 1911 for carry today I’d probably go buy a Colt® M1070CQBP, which is what the USMC is going to be using. I would then learn the few changes it has over the 1911’s I am familiar with, and love it long time. If you want to carry a Glock 17, a Walther PPK, a Smith and Wesson J-frame or a North American Arms .22LR revolver, well, God Bless You. Everyone has their own reasons for picking what they pick. I don’t understand the constant need to proselytize one design over another. There are VERY few bad firearms designs out there anymore, and even fewer poorly made weapons. In the day of the Internet, word gets around too quickly and a bad design or process can kill a company.

As to the Ruger SR1911, before you consider one I would HIGHLY recommend you google search “sr1911 rust.”

Sorry for the soapbox, but people need to understand that there is no one solution for everyone. Use what works for you, and be ready for what you have to. Period.

http://www.colt.com/Colt…/Products/ColtM1070CQBPM45A1.aspx
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Bob the Bureaucrat Goes To War

by Jerod J Husvar on Monday, March 28, 2011 at 7:17am ·

I know this guy, let’s call him Bob, and he’s a bureaucrat…  Sits in a comfy government office all day, working on paperwork and dealing with members of the public, many of whom probably hate him for being what he is, by day.  See, the thing is, Bob got his “cushy government job” by having the experience of leadership in the US Military.  It’s easier to work for the government when you already are used to it, and they look for people who used to be military because, well, they’re damned good workers.

 

Bob isn’t all that intimidating to look at… He’s fit, and he keeps himself in shape, to the point that a lot of people who don’t know about his second job probably think he’s some kind of fitness nut.  All the time he’s jogging, or working out, and watches his diet and stays trim and lean.  Because, you see, that’s what the US Military still requires of him.  After many years of active duty, and then a stint in the civilian world, Bob decided to join the reserves to make a difference.  It was a place he understood, and with his degree he got as a civilian, he was officer material when he decided to go back.  You’d never guess that Bob is a very special beast… A Direct Commissioned Officer…  It takes the recommendation of a Congressperson to make it happen… Civilians who have special skills that are critical to sustaining military operations, supporting troops, health and scientific study may receive what are called “direct commissions.” These officers usually occupy leadership positions in the following areas: law, science, medicine, pharmacy, dentistry, nurse corps, intelligence, supply-logistics-transportation, engineering, public affairs, chaplain corps, oceanography, merchant marine affairs, and others.  Bob does so, and is damned proud of it.

 

What Bob does is so important that every person in the his Reserve unit will or has gone to war.  Iraq, Afghanistan, the Sand Box…  And Bob is no different.  He’s about to go over to the other side of the world, into the midst of a war zone, to, well, do his job.  And he’s chomping at the bit to go.  It’s what he’s trained for, it’s what he’s good at, it’s what he loves to do.  He does not go without reservations…  Most of the people who know him aren’t even being told he’s leaving…  You see, feral dogs go after the families that people like Bob leave behind…  The wives, the kids, the families who stay at home, and pray, and are proud of the job men and women like Bob are doing.  They sit for entire deployments praying not to receive a certified letter, or a sedan full of military officers and their family preacher, or to get a call that the man or woman they love has been wounded and is being airlifted out.  And those dogs have sharp teeth, but there are friends and family and loved ones who do their best to keep the family safe so that Bob does not have to worry while he’s half a world away with people all around who just don’t like him because of who he works for, and enforce it with bullets and bombs and other nastiness.

 

Men like Bob are the truest form of patriot.  Bob doesn’t even much care for the current administration, but he doesn’t let that stop him.  These people love what our country represents so much that they are willing to put their butts on the line to keep it intact.  I am damned proud to have known Bob most of our lives, and damned proud to say that I’ll be keeping an eye out for the feral dogs for him.  And I will pray for his safe return every day, so that other people will have the honor of knowing him.  Bob, every person I have known personally who went to war has come home, and I expect you to do the same.  Preferably intact!   Though I can’t name your name, you are appreciated and loved and will be in my prayers every night.  Thank you for what you are about to do.  Most people don’t give a damn, but I do. Good Hunting.

A Soldier’s Christmas Poem

A Soldier’s Christmas Poem  

 

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,  I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,my daughter beside me, angelic in rest.

 

 

Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,Transforming the yard to a winter delight.The sparkling lights in the tree, I believe,Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.

 

 My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,Secure and surrounded by love I would sleepin perfect contentment, or so it would seem.So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

 

The sound wasn’t loud, and it wasn’t too near,But I opened my eye when it tickled my ear.Perhaps just a cough, I didn’t quite know,Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.

 

My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,and I crept to the door just to see who was near.Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.

 

A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years oldPerhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

 

“What are you doing?” I asked without fear”Come in this moment, it’s freezing out here!Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!”

 

For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts,to the window that danced with a warm fire’s lightthen he sighed and he said “Its really all right,I’m out here by choice. I’m here every night”

 

“Its my duty to stand at the front of the line,that separates you from the darkest of times.No one had to ask or beg or implore me,I’m proud to stand here like my fathers before me.

 

My Gramps died at ‘Pearl on a day in December,”then he sighed, “That’s a Christmas ‘Gram always remembers.”My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ‘NamAnd now it is my turn and so, here I am.

 

I’ve not seen my own son in more than a while,But my wife sends me pictures, he’s sure got her smile.Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,The red white and blue… an American flag.

 

“I can live through the cold and the being alone, Away from my family, my house and my home,I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat,I can carry the weight of killing anotheror lay down my life with my sisters and brotherswho stand at the front against any and all,to insure for all time that this flag will not fall.”

 

“So go back inside,” he said, “harbor no frightYour family is waiting and I’ll be all right.””But isn’t there something I can do, at the least,”Give you money,” I asked, “or prepare you a feast?

It seems all too little for all that you’ve done,For being away from your wife and your son.”

 

Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,”Just tell us you love us, and never forgetTo fight for our rights back at home while we’re gone.To stand your own watch, no matter how long.

 

For when we come home, either standing or dead,to know you remember we fought and we bledis payment enough, and with that we will trust.That we mattered to you as you mattered to us.

 

By Michael Marks, Christmas 2000

 

Thank the troops!

A SOLDIER’S CHRISTMAS <

‘Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
in a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.

I had come down the chimney with presents to give,
and to see just who in this little house lived.

As I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.

No Stockings by mantle, just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.

With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
A sobering thought came through my mind.

For this house was different, it was dark and dreary,
The home of a soldier, I could now see clearly.

The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.

The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder,
Not how I picture a United States Soldier.

Was this the hero of whom I’d just read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?

I realized the families that I saw this night,
owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.

Soon round the world, the children would play,
and grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.

They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.

I couldn’t help wondering how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.

The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to one knee and started to cry.

The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,
“Santa don’t cry, for this life is my choice”.

I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more,
My life is my God, my country, my corps.”

The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep,
I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.

I kept watch for hours, so silent and still,
as we both shivered from the cold night’s chill.

I didn’t want to leave, on that cold, dark night,
this guardian of honor, so willing to fight.

Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure,
whispered, “Carry on Santa…., It’s Christmas Day…., All is secure.

One look at my watch, and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend…. and to all a Good Night.

— Corporal James M. Schmidt, USMC-Ret Scout-sniper, First published in LEATHERNECK MAGAZINE in December of 1991.