Good Deeds I’ve Done
Making Magic With Guns
Duke watching while a young fellow gives his U.S. M3
“grease gun” a try at a turkey shoot/cancer benefit.
Overwhelmingly, what we see, hear and read about guns in the media is negative. Purposely so, in my opinion. The good things — when and if reported — are almost always about taking down bad guys one way or another. I feel like I’ve done some good deeds by means of my firearms without ever confronting a bad guy. Let me explain.
Giving A Smile
The first time was about a dozen years ago. A lady friend of ours wanted to do a fundraiser for two cancer patients. She envisioned a “turkey shoot,” a great idea here in the Yellowstone Valley. Now this lady does nothing halfway. She planned rifle, handgun and shotgun events ending with a big auction. All entry fees were going to the fundraiser.
I offered to bring four of my World War II submachine guns and likewise supply the ammo for them. They were an American M1 Thompson .45 Auto, an American M3 .45 Auto (aka Grease Gun), a German MP40 9mm and a Soviet PPsh41 7.62x25mm. Most of the competitions awarded modest prizes to winners. My only award to anyone was the experience of shooting historic full autos. After the shooting, the auction contained things ranging from an actual mule to saddles to clothing.
To make a long story short, the “turkey shoot” was a great success. Shooting started at 10 a.m. and I didn’t take a break and sit down till after 3 p.m. A considerable sum was raised for the cancer patients. When the shooting ended and the auction started, everyone drifted toward it except me and two 14-year-old boys who were staring at my table of full autos.
Knowing their folks were okay with it, I said, “You guys want to shoot them?” They said, “We don’t have any money.” I replied, “I didn’t ask if you had money. I asked if you wanted to shoot them.” Their response was a loud “Yes!” We had a great time for another 45 minutes or so and the boys were then a big help with packing my gear. One of the boy’s mothers was one of the cancer patients. Later I got a letter from her saying he hadn’t smiled much lately but I put a big grin on his face. By the way, both cancer patients are still alive and well.
Sometimes after BPCR Silhouette matches here in Montana, I let people shoot a few of my World War II full autos. Adults liked shooting them but they are kid magnets! As their owner, I was a minor celebrity in youngsters’ eyes. After the guns were put up one evening, two teenagers hung around visiting with me. Both were bemoaning high school, saying they were going to quit as soon as possible. I joined in and said, “Yeah, I hated school too.” One said, “But you are a writer, you had to go to school.” I replied, “Yes, I did, hating it every minute. However, I hated working with shovels more!” Years later, an uncle of one of those boys told me the boy wanted me to know that I made an impression on him — he graduated, got a good job and now is a family man.
This German “seasoned citizen” began excitedly pointing out the
finer points of Duke’s MP44 (Sturmgewehr). He was last armed
with a 44 as a 16-year-old during the fall of Berlin.
Old Days Relived
Later, a friend and fellow full-auto owner called me before our Montana State BPCR Silhouette Championship that is held every June in Butte. He said an elderly German fellow of his acquaintance was traveling all the way to Montana to participate in the big yearly “Quigley Match,” also held in June near Forsyth. He was then going to come to Butte just to observe a silhouette event. My friend requested I bring my German MP44 Sturmgewehr to Butte but to keep silent about it until he gave me a signal.
You see, as a 16-year-old in Berlin in April, 1945, his friend had been conscripted into the German Army to help fight off the invading Red Army. With practically no training, he was handed a Sturmgewehr, shown how to use it and sent to face the enemy. He had not seen another one since giving his to the Soviets at Berlin’s surrender.
After the day’s competition, my friend was introducing his guest to everyone. He gave me a nod meaning, “Now.” Then I walked up with my MP44 behind my back. After shaking hands with the old guy, I swung the rifle around so he could see it. I wish someone had been able to catch the look on his face. It was of pure wonderment.
He instantly started describing its function and finer points. At least I think so, because he was speaking German. When asked if he would like to fire it, I swear his eyes glistened. It was one of those goose-bump moments for everyone clustered around. Of course, he needed photos holding it to take back home for his other veteran friends.
I’m not relating these incidents to make me seem heroic. They happened merely because I had some specific firearms with me and set a situation from which something good occurred.
