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11

SHOOTING STORY | GENERAL

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I

n our lives there are a number of what I

would term as pivotal moments, rights of

passage if you will and from a shooter’s

point of view one of these must be the fi rst

time you fi red a gun or hunted an animal. For

me there are many – full-auto M16, the

AK47, my Swedish moose, I could go on at

length. But my most vivid was the fi rst

full-bore rifl e I ever used. This tale of a

fl edging shooter was sparked by Chris

Parkin’s review of the Lee Enfi eld No 4 Mk 1

we printed in the April issue. Chris is a

hi-tech kinda’ guy so I was keen to see how

he adapted to what is a much lower tec

system. Well he has joined the brotherhood

now!

POPPING THE CHERRY

Back then, it must have been 1965; I was

12 ½ and had just joined my local Army

Cadet Force Unit (ACF)... Croydon Para. A

confusing name as we had nothing to do

with the local TA Para unit apart from sharing

their drill hall and cap badge. I’d been in the

Scouts before that but that seemed mighty

tame when compared to getting to play with

real guns. Even at this age I knew what I

wanted to do and that was join the Army, so

the cadets seemed a logical precursor to the

main event.

I recall getting issued my Khaki battle

dress jacket and trousers, soup plate beret

and the rest of the kit, though we had to buy

our own boots! Then it was drill and other

skills and of course weapons training. This

was my fi rst introduction to the Lee Enfi eld

No 4 Mk II and back then they seemed

massive and the smell of oiled metal and

beech stocks will always stay with me. And

with the silver drill rounds with the red

stripes on the sides in steel chargers we

practiced load/unload drills and dry

shooting.

Our unit had a 22 Rimfi re range in the

roof and with a motley assortment of ancient

bolt-action rifl es we learned to shoot. This

was good fun, but nothing special, as I’d shot

22s before. What we wanted was to test our

metal against the No 4s and maybe even the

Bren gun to earn the coveted marksman’s

badge for our sleeves, but the Bren’s another

story. And also to get one of the brown 303

ammunition outer boxes with steel handles

and yellow writing on it. This packaging was

another unoffi cial mark of experience, as

only those that had fi red the Lee Enfi eld

could be privy to acquiring one. Today it’s all

Oakley shades, fashion and cool trainers, but

the concept is no different.

BOTTLE JOB...

The rifl es were our constant companions on

exercise and we used them with blank

ammunition in our mock battles. Back then

the attitude towards fi rearms in the UK was

almost Swiss in its view. I can recall more

than once coming back from a weekend

camp and being dropped off at home and

being told to – ‘just bring the rifl e in on

Monday night’. No security, no FAC, just lean

it behind the door and the next day walk

through town with it to the barracks slung on

your shoulder. A friend of mine even took his

into a bank and no one batted an eyelid.

But as much fun as all this was, the

moment was drawing ever closer when we

would get to shoot the No 4s. I liken this to

my fi rst ever parachute jump – all that

practice can never truly prepare you for the

real thing and it’s a case of wondering if you

have the balls for the job.

STEP UP

Well my turn came in 1967. Our commander

• Captain Bishop - decided that he wanted a
  shooting team, so he picked those most
  profi cient at weapon handling and on the
  larger side to obviously help soak up the
  recoil. We drove down to Bisley Camp one
  early summer day for the fi rst time in our ACF
  minibus. Back then the zero range was a bit
  different, though it had wind-back targets and
  here was where we would get our chance to
  see if we had the right stuff.
  It seemed strange back then knowing
  exactly what we were going to do in terms of
  weapon handling, yet with no inkling of the
  end result of all our labours. And all the time
  the spectre of bottling out hung heavy...
  could we, and more importantly would we?
  The ammunition arrived in the dark
  brown plywood boxes with yellow writing -
  CARTRIDGE SMALLARMS BALL 303 MK VII
  and I could already visualise strutting around
  with mine to show I was a rifl eman. First of
  all - kick off the clips that hold the lid on,
  within - a sealed tin container with a
  soldered lid. Gripping the handle you rip it off
  a bit like a tin of sardines to expose the
  50-round canvas bandoleers packed tightly
  inside.
  Next prise open the copper clips and tip
  the ammunition, packed in 5-round chargers
  out. Then check the rim sequence to make
  sure it was one up one down, so that
  cartridges would feed into and out of the
  magazine properly. There’s also a lasting
  memory of the ammunition itself, the case
  showing signs of heat treatment around the
  neck and shoulder fl owing out to the straw
  yellow brass of the main body. The huge
  copper primer at the rear and bullet at the
  front end. This was the real thing, no
  Rimfi res or drill rounds and no mercy!

SEAT OF THE PANTS

In the mid 60s things like ear defenders

were unheard of and I recall we ripped strips

For a battle rifle sights were quite sophisticated

• it offers a long range, flip-up ladder and a fixed
  aperture for closer distances