GUNS AND SWORDS

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My first cap pistols

I have always been fascinated with guns.  As a child I was allowed to have play cap guns and eventually (around age 10) was allowed to have a BB gun long after I thought I was ready for one. With cap guns it was the action of loading a Cap pistol with a roll of cap material that was a ritual that simulated arming a real live gun.  Some of my young rich pals had cap guns that you could put a cap into a cartridge and then insert it into a cylinder that would make that definite bang/snap and surround us with the smell of burnt gunpowder.  I truly envied them.

When I was about 12 years old, I found a 22 Long Rifle bullet on my dad's dresser.  Actually more than one, probably 5 or 6.  I knew about bullets but had never seen any in actuality.  I must have mentioned it because they were never seen of or spoken of again.

Lee Enfield

I was allowed to get a real gun at about the time I got a drivers license to drive my motorcycle, at age 16.  The motorcycle broke down a lot so the gun became another reason to be somewhere other than home.  I bought an English Lee Enfield 303 from a magazine article and had it sent to my house.  (Things were different then)  This Enfield was the infantry weapon the British military used, large, heavy and lethal.  My hunting experience with it was once for deer in middle of the state of Michigan at which I erased a squirrel off a nearby tree.  Later a couple of unfortunate frogs in a sandpit near a water hole near my house died an explosive death.  The Michigan deer escaped my marksmanship due to their absence.

My motorcycle and the Enfield's next home, after I went into the Marine Corps, is a loss for me.  I'm sure my dad made sure they went somewhere. Like the motorcycle when to the dump and the rifle to who knows where.

M-1

Guns were common during my Marine Corps days.  Rifles, machine guns and the Garand M1 were changed out for the M14 about midway through my career and I bought a brand new 30-30 Winchester lever action rifle the day before I was discharged.  My dad and I took it down to a range in Gilroy to shoot it and break its cherry.  I’m a good shot so I couldn’t see any sense in keeping it.   It was sold to give me some downpayment money on a car, a 1956 Austin Healey.  Don't want to talk about it at this time.  I’m still pissed.

M-14

I picked up a 22 pistol from someone and kept it until I my job was transferred to Canada in 1966.  I was informed that guns weren't allowed there.  (I could have carried a cannon back and forth across the border in those days.)  So I sold it at a pawnshop in San Francisco for pennies least I upset the Canadians at the crossing.

When the first (practice wife) and I married, we obtained a 22 Ruger semi-automatic rifle from her previous marriage.  She really liked going to the range and firing it.  I think we even shot it in semi private wooded areas, hopefully devoid of other humans.  Bad for the frogs and tree leaves.

About that time I ran across a single shot 410 shotgun and altered it to a short 14” barrel, while sanding the stock down to a pistol grip.   Probably like totally illegal, but one hellavue short-range weapon.  Lets call it a “Snake Charmer” after the similar weapons created at that time.  

Mother-in-Laws

At little time later a small .38 caliber pistol came into my ownership from my mother in law but I traded it off for something else before getting it to an armorer to fix what ever was wrong with it.  Shouldn’t have as I now look back on it.

After the divorce, I bought a .44 cal Black Powder Black Hawk pistol.  I shot it a few times while in Minnesota and a couple of times down in southern California.  Takes a while to load and a little more intense cleaning after shooting.   It also makes lots of smoke and that's good.

44 cal black powder Old Arm

On my first birthday after the marriage to Margie, she bought me an antique rifle from an antique store.  An 1870 Trap Door Enfield.  She paid just over a hundred dollars for its and now, 38 years later, worth 1400 dollars.  I still have it.  Am scared to try and fire it but it looks good and deadly.

 Margie's dad gave me an old pump shotgun that didn't work that has a sawed off butt for his small frame.  It doesn't have any marks on it of who made it or nothing to give its origin.  I assume it was a sideline of a metal shop in the area where he lived that would punch out a few shotguns ever so often.  I think it's a .12 gauge.

1870 Enfield

While I was working for the Feds, I got a hold of a .22 semi automatic pistol that was rumored to be a 'killer."  Meaning used in a killing back in Chicago.  (Another superstition that I don't buy into)  I think I traded it for something a few years later.  Probably something I didn’t need.

I stole my friend’s shotgun when he became a paranoid schizophrenic so he wouldn't do anything stupid with it.  Somehow or another it doesn't have a firing pin, which I may have taken out back in those days.  Don’t remember.

I bought a pellet rife and a BB rifle a few years later and eventually a couple of air pellet handguns.  Both are spring loaded BB and air powered pellet gun are nasty at a short range.  So sayeth my dead gophers.

My buddy Dick gave me his .22 revolver and my next-door neighbor gave me a .25 semi auto purse gun.  It holds 6 shots but can only fire one without hand loading the next round.  The spring in the magazine isn’t any good anymore and the slide is really sluggish. It needs an armorer to make it right.  The .22 revolver doesn’t always revolve to the next cartilage in position to fire.  Not reliable.

When my mom passed away, I obtained her double-barreled .20 gauge shotgun.  I've shot it once and won't again.  One helluva kick.

After Margie' mom passed, I got a 22 rifle from the estate.  It is a Sears model called a Ranger.  It is old and well used and doesn't like continuing to be used.  When fired, shells will hang up and not eject which is aggravating.  Needs armour work.

                                                                           Swords

 

My first sword was a blade that was being passed around the platoon during my military time.  It was a Masonic sword from what I can make out on the inscription on the blade and the helmeted figure on the hilt.  I still have it and have used it as a ritual blade.

When the practice wife and I were together, her ex gave me a sword cane.  Something that never leaves the house since I'm certain that it's totally verboten in public.

The next blade was a wall hanger (meaning cheap steel) that was left in a garage where I was working as a tile setter.  People leave all kinds of stuff behind when they move and I was very good at looking in all the places where something could be squirreled away and forgotten. Like under floorboards and in attics.

Fencing saber

Then came my fencing career.  I started beginning fencing at Cabrillo College long ago in the dark ages of the 1970's.  This was basic foil taught by a former Army solider that believed in using a blade as survival weapon.  The college supplied helmets, masks and ill-fitting jackets.  A personal foil was easy to find and my first one was a broken one in a thrift shop in Gilroy.  I replaced the blade and used it in my foil fencing class at Cabrillo.

Rapier

Work life changed so I took a class of Saber fencing at UCSC from a former French Foreign Legionnaire, a Mr. Calvert.  After two years of training and practice, I came in first at a meet and quit fencing.  Why progress when one is at the top?  (I didn’t say I was smarter)  I now have collected 4 sabers with one being Olympic weight.

Years went by and I discovered that the SCA (Society for Creative Anachronism) has a group that practiced with the Rapier.  I looked into it and decided it might be a good place for me to expand my knowledge and expertise in the art of the blade.  (I really missed fencing.)  It took me awhile to gather the rapier sword and other needed accouterments needed to be a legalized member to play in their sandbox. (Fencing gear isn't cheap)   The difference from collegiate fencing to SCA fencing is miles apart and nowhere near the real life physicality of true dueling but I continued until my leg started giving me problems in mobility.  Currently I’m waiting until my leg is better and I can continue with swordplay.

My Sword Wall

My friend Dick pulled some swords down from his wall and I now have two Norwegian swords on my sword wall along with a USMC saber, a Saracen dagger, a two handed sword and a few other styles.

Now, I am a person with swords hanging on the wall that I pull down from time to time to wave and hold and recall days of old when I could duel with best of them and recall using the blade in a quick and deadly manner.

However, at last I’m no longer afraid of being cut by a sharp blade as I have many cuts from practice that have come from much better swordsmen then me.  Scars of learning, I count them all.

By the way, my leg is better and I’m ready to get back into clanging with the blades.

And yes, I would NEVER bring a sword to a gun fight.

My desire