Day Five of Advanced Firearms in a recruit class. The first week is getting them familiar with the pistol and qualified on the state course. The second week, it gets serious, and they are introduced to shoulder guns. Back then it was shotguns, and those who had an approved rifle or carbine could qualify with it as well. I was handling that phase for this particular class, and therefore had my Colt SP-1 carbine at the range stand with me, for use as a demonstrator. We're talking plain-vanilla, slick-side, A1 upper AR-15 carbine. Scopes were something you put on sniper and hunting rifles, and most of us were not even aware of the existence of holographic red dot sights- primitive as those were at that time.
Anyway… at that range, the line was 26 points- 13 on a side. There was plenty of room between each point, because the range had been designed as a bullseye range and there was a small table at each firing point. In the middle was a large, elevated box for the range officer/controller, who sat about two feet higher than normal. I was sitting there, with the other instructors in or near the box around me, and the cadets spread out to my left and right; waiting for the chow wagon to show. We were basically done with all the serious training, with just off-duty handgun and rifle quals remaining; and none of that was a deal-breaker. If you failed, you didn't get sent home for good. IOW, everybody was rather relaxed.
Now, I cannot remember if LSP552 was there, but our mutual buddy Dave (who is now the Deputy Superintendent for Patrol) damn sure was, because he instigated this. We were talking about the relative accuracy potential between our respective AR carbines, and the boss mentioned that my example was particularly accurate. Dave, ever the subtle shit-stirrer, said, "Well, if he's so good with it, let's see him hit that." And pointed downrange at target #12, exactly 55 yards away, where a BIG-ass red wasp had just alighted in the neck area of the clean TQ-15 posted on it (the TQ15 is a cream color; that dark insect stood out in stark contrast against it).
Well… every eye turned to me. What's a fellow to do with a challenge like that, but nut up and give it the old college try. I called "Range hot!", and locked and loaded while everybody scrambled to find a pair of hearing protectors and get them on. I stretched out across that thankfully stable plywood and came halfway out of the range chair, assuming a sort of "seated prone" position. Those of you who were in the army when I was might remember the ridiculous Stump firing point on known distance ranges back in those days, and how some of the firing was over the top of that thing. Its actually a pretty solid position if you skootch around just right. But I digress.
The wasp was not moving around for some reason, and I knew that wouldn't last, so I put a SWAG bead on it and ever so gently pressed off a shot. The wasp disappeared.
The boss asked, "Anybody see it fly off?". Silence. I cleared the carbine, laid it down, and all the instructors trooped down the center sidewalk to examine the target. I knew what was coming; there was NO way we could know for sure, and the ribbing would shortly commence. Wrong.
Dave and John got there first, and I heard Dave say "Well, I'll be a ____________."
There, in the neck, was a clean .223 hole… and the upper third of a pair of wasp wings sticking out. I had center-punched the wasp in his thoracic girdle.
Instinct told me what to do; I just smiled, turned around and walked back to the range stand. The boss called for the cadets to come see, they oohed and aahhed, and nobody gave me any shit about anything for a couple of months after that. Fortunately, it never occurred to any of them to demand a repeat performance on an equally tiny target...
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