After plumbing the depth of my crazy this week, it probably isn't a good time to tell you about my new acquisition, a fine piece of history in 30 caliber, an M1 Garand, the rifle that Patton called "the greatest battle implement ever devised."
Several years ago my nephew asked me if I wanted an M1 and being half tanked I said sure. It's been at my brother-in-law's place until last weekend when I picked it up and brought it home. Now I need to find a rifle range and in this part of North Carolina, that's not easy. For some reason, people are a bit queasy about semi-automatic firearms with an effective range of 400 yards.
I've never fired an M1. I shot my father's bolt action deer rifle when I was a kid, a variety of shotguns, and trained on the M14 and M16, but this is my first M1 and I'm looking forward to sighting in this 65-year-old rifle and seeing just how good we two old bastards are on the long range. Fred Rea understands, I'm sure.
I find it a good omen that I have this rifle in my office as I bury deeper into the 1941 novel, which is going well, by the way - up to 7000 words and I solved a major plot problem. As is usally the case, the fix was so simple it had eluded me for two years.
So, until I find a range, I don't know what the hell I'm going to do with this old firearm, except put it over the mantle in my new office. But there it is, a 14 pound (try carrying that around all damn day) piece of military history.
And yes, my wife is so thrilled.