Last Saturday, and whata lovely day it was, we (the four of us left standing) deceeded to meet for a friendly and formal (numbers participating permitting) shoot, a smokey shoot.
It turned out the lovelyness of the day (3 deg. C, wind driving the wet stuff) shied off a few participants, so the remaining two of us, gathered, praised the Lord for all this instead of a driving snow in -5degsC or a howling pack of Russian white humanitarian convoy guys, and proceeded to blast the clayish wet of the back of our range in Bychawa. Cool.
Anyways, Enfields rock. We suck. That is untill we find our ways, I find my, ours ways with the military muzzleloading rifle. From the time I shot my P/53 frequently, I couldn't somehow agree with the placement of the bull, it allways seemed to be of inconsistent placement and shape - bugger! In January, I packed the P/58 (P-H) in the back of my Suzukibuggy on the way to visit my father, and stopped on the range, close to my stomping ground. The 50 metric 'ards part was partly free. I stuffed the target with my 11 Minies, went to look. Than I proposed a merry flock of AK shooters sharing the 50m with me a friendly match against me and my 150 years old "clunker", they declined :-(. It was after a long spell of Enfield absence in my shooting arm (months and months) and a ray of hope for the spring after a long winter.
So, we peppered the paper with the .577 lead goodnes to the degree that it was certain and ingrained in our brains, that the faults are ours, not materiel's. Discovering a conviniently situated (near the 100 m) fat plank of wood we gave it a fair warning and shot it. The two shots fired from 100 m went through, the wood remained stationery and defiant despite being shot through, so we turned it sideways.
I must say I was delighted I got the b****** on second shot, stright in the chest, Adam waited a bit longer, not too long, though.
The two that went through (an easy way):
Dear Brits, thank you for the Enfields and all the fish!
A days like this keep wrinkles away
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