Who Taught You To Shoot?

[Uncle R.]

Just Curious...
In my case it was a Boy Scout summer camp counselor. He was probably a college student working the camp as a summer job. I was eleven years old and my first time at camp we had a short session on the rifle range. Fifty feet with Remington single-shot bolt actions and .22 shorts.
I had read every issue of dad's Field & Stream subscription since I was old enough to read. I'd read every book about hunting or shooting in the school library. I was a young gun nut with no real world experience. I sat bored through the orientation lecture and finally was issued a rifle and five rounds of ammo. We shot prone with no slings or support. Appalled at how much those sights wobbled, I decided to forget about squeezing and instead pull the trigger quickly when the sight picture was perfect.
:roll:
I KNEW I'd shot all Xs and when my target showed scattered holes I began to complain that my rifle was obviously no good. That instructor, (Bless him wherever he is now!) didn't just blow off this loudmouth know-it-all kid. He took that rifle from my hands, took five rounds of ammo from the locker, and proceeded to chew the X right out of the target.
I may have been a wiseacre but I wasn't a complete idiot! I stared at his target, gulped, and humbly asked "Can you teach me how to do that?" "I can" he said "If you'll LISTEN to me and do it the way I tell you to."
That counselor gave me a great gift and started me down a road I'm still traveling, with lots of learning and enjoyment along the way. I can't thank him, but every now and then I get the chance to pass the gift on to someone else.
That's MY story... How about yours?
Uncle R.

[1Shirt]

My Dad, and Daisy!
1Shirt:coffee:

[twoworms]

He got me a BBGun Rifle, sat me down for 10 min and talked to me about how to handle it.

Then we spend the next few hours/days target shooting. As he was in the Army in (43-44) he told me about how to handle the sights, my breathing and the trigger. He would lol when I hit a soda can at 10 t0 15 yards over and over again the first day.

My Dad's gone now going on 18 years, I still have that Daisy BBgun.

Tim

[imashooter2]

My Dad and Grampa. My Mom has a great picture of me at 5 years old wearing the ugliest red plaid overalls you ever did see and leaning waaaaay back to hold up an H&R Sportsman because it was so heavy. I have that revolver in my safe right now. Lots of great memories... :)

[smokemjoe]

Myself at 12-13 years old, a 22 bolt rifle I bought from a neighbor on the next farm for $10.00,The at 16 a 03A3 that my uncle got from the DCM for $14.00 for me, I am still trying to learn how to shoot at 60, Smkenjoe

[Phil]

My Dad started me in rifle shooting about 1947 with a Crosman air rifle. My Grandfather started me in pistol shooting (double action revolvers) in the early fifties. Not much later than that my Dad had his good buddy, who was on the Fifth Army and All Army rifle teams, start me out with high power rifles. That started me on the road to thirty one years of competition, mostly in High Power but some ASSRA, NBRSA, and pistol shooting. Now I just shoot for leisure and still enjoy it.

Cheers,

Phil

[grumpy one]

Nobody ever taught me rifle shooting, which may be why I'm still so bad at it. When I was about 13 my father (a non-shooter) brought home a smoothbore air gun. Blaming it's design for the bad results I bought a Webley Junior rifled 177 and a second-hand single shot 22 two years later. I had to wait until I was 18 to buy a centerfire rifle - a Sportco 303/25 on a new surplus Mk III* action. It was a big deal in those days, I had to have an interview with the Divisional Detective Inspector to get a permit. Couldn't hit anything with it, put a scope on and still couldn't, and things haven't gotten all that much better since. When I was 21 and could legally take up pistol shooting I was given about 20 minutes of instruction by the club secretary right at the start, and it made a difference - first competition was two weeks later, I qualified for A grade in it, and barely improved afterward. The lesson is, if I'd found out how to shoot rifle at an early stage maybe I'd have been able to shoot straight - who knows?

[Hip's Ax]

At first, local policemen would take me to the indoor range in the basement of the police station and let me shoot their target revolvers. Then, I selected my high school because they had a rifle team and thats where I met my coach. He passed away a couple of years ago, I think of him a lot.

I'm taking my 10 year old nephew to the outdoor range this Sunday, the cycle continues. :-D

[MT Gianni]

Dad taught me with 22's at age 5, shotguns at age 10 and his opinion was that pistols were only good for killing a man. Thank God for Elmer and Skeeter who taught me through their writings that there was more. A stint with a PPC team helped to refine some things. Gianni.

[dmftoy1]

Skeeter Skelton, Bill Jordan, Elmer Keither and the other's from that era. :)

My dad served at the end of WWII, all through Korea, Berlin Airlift, and into early Vietnam, and while he wasn't "anti-gun" he didn't want much to do with them. He gave me his dad's .35 Remington when he died and gave me some basic instruction but I'd say I learned 99.99% of what I learned from Magazines and Books.

Have a good one,
Dave

[lovedogs]

Wish I'd had the good fortune of most of you. I had a rather rough upbringing. Thankfully, I've gotten through it and taken a better path. My second stepfather, an abusive alcoholic, was on the run from the law and hid us all out down along a river in Okla. I was seven years old. There were woods down along the river that had lots of fox squirrels. One day the stepfather took me out by a corral and set some cans on a post. He told me how to aim the little single-shot .22 and had me shoot a few rounds at the cans. I was soon hitting it pretty regular.

The next day after school he took me down to the river and showed me how to hunt squirrels. Then he showed me how to dress them out. We had them for supper. Fried squirrel, mashed potatoes, and fresh hot biscuits with squirrel gravy is really tasty.

From then on it was my job to grab the .22 when I got home from school and get supper squirrels. The .22 was always leaning in the corner of the porch with 5 rounds laying next to it. For every round fired I had to bring home a squirrel. If I missed I got beat. And I don't mean spanked. I mean lashed until blood ran.

One day I took a foolish shot at a bushy tail way up in a tree and missed. My back was already sore from the last miss so I came up with a sceme. I went to the shed and found a piece of heavy string and a big catfish hook. I got a few pieces of corn from the corn field and baited the hook. Then I waited under a log until a squirrrel grabbed the corn. I set the hook, jumped out and whacked the squirrel with the butt of the .22. The stepdad was laughing so hard when he found out that he had pity on me and I didn't go to bed beat that night.

It didn't take me long to get to be a pretty good shot. And it's probably some kind of miracle that I learned to enjoy shooting so much.

[NVcurmudgeon]

My father ran interference with my fearful mother, and also with my Commie aunt. (The Korean War was on when the question of a rifle for me came up. My father told Aunt Tut that he wanted to see that I could shoot in case I ever had to fight my aunt's Chicom friends.) As far as any expert advice went, I would have to credit Jack O' Connor and a number of books from the Berkeley Public Library. Yes, THAT Berkeley, but it was a different time and a different country then. My father's heart was in the right place, but as far as I know, he never shot anytihing but a shotgun, so I was on my own.

[dnepr]

I was self taught I am the only one in my family that hunts or shoots. the only problem with being self taught is the instructor is no smarter than the student.

[DLCTEX]

I learned to shoot BB guns from cousins who put tremendous peer pressure on me to learn to shoot accurately. When I was 9 a neighbor who had three good looking teen age daughters, but no sons took a liking to me and began inviting me along to a farm he had about 20 miles away that had lots of wooded pasture and lots of rabbits. He had an old winchester single shot 22 that he would turn me loose with to hunt while he plowed or tended cows. I spent most of the summer stalking cottontails and jackrabits. He taught me how to stop a jackrabbit by whistling. At the end of the summer he swapped my grandfather the 22 for a hundred pounds of milo. That was about $2.50, so I later knew he was basically giving it to me because he had no son to pass it on to. That 22 accounted for hundreds of rabbits, 2 foxes, several badgers, quite a few skunks, snakes, feral cats, turtles, and other targets of opportunity. I took many messes of quail with a method my grandfather taught me. Shoot the head off of one and then potshot the others as they jumped on the ones flopping around. Jack O'conner was my favorite author, and I was an avid student, reading everything I could get my hands on about guns and hunting. Still do. Dale.... P.S. I passed on what I learned to my five younger brothers, my five sons, many of the 97 boys I was a houseparent to during 7 years of service to boys homes, plus some of my sons friends during 40 years of parenting.

[versifier]

My mother taught me the basics. We had a .22 range in our basement. When I got some experience (familiarity and safe handling of the Remington single shot .22) and could hit what I was aiming at, my dad taught me about stance and breath control. Then he gave me pistol basics with an old Iver-Johnson top-break revolver. I always thought I was a hopeless pistol shot until years later when I discovered that it was the gun that was hopeless. Other pistols shot where they were supposed to.

[waksupi]

Dad was my teacher. I started out with a Daisy BB gun, and graduated to a single shot .22, that I started carrying on the trap line when I was about 8. Dad hunted small game with a pistol quite a bit, but never gave any instruction with it. I picked up a lot of experience there on my own. I had lots of old greybeards teach me muzzleloaders, way back when. I got my formal pistol training from an old FBI instructor, and a couple firearms instructors from the local PD. I found out I really didn't know squat about shooting pistol, until I got instruction from those guys.
Here I am, with my first brace of six shooters.

[Old Ironsights]

No guns in my house as a kid, but, I Lettered in Small Bore Rifle in HS.

United States Navy JROTC. I still have my 1943 Remington 513-T...

After that, it was all Army.

[kodiak1]

Dear Old Dad. God rest his Soul.
Ken.

[tommag]

My Dad tought me how to shoot with the "give him a rifle and turn him loose" method.
I was 4 y rs old when he caught me at 4 am trying to load his 20 guage. He gently sent me back to bed and promised to take me shooting in the morning. He set up a full coke can on a fence post and let loose with the shot-gun at 10 ft.
I never will forget the devastation of that shot!!!
At 6 yrs., he gave me a rudimentery course that lasted 10-15 minutes, presented me with his Remington pump and a carton of .22's. "don't shoot at another person, don't shoot toward the houses or the road" He also taught me about ricochets and turned me loose.
He provided a carton per week and pretty much let me go. I learned ballistics on my own by experimentation and I think I learned as well as any college course could've taught me.
Tom.

[Bullshop]

Daisy
BIC/BS

[DeanoBeanCounter]

My Dad was a Scout Master. And he taught hunters safety and first aid to all the local troupes in the area.:-D

[twotrees]

Dad flew 52 mission on a B17 in Europe came back and taught gunnery to Shave Tails in South Dakota. Got wounded by a Brand new butter bar that thought he new more than my old man. (Funny that 52 missions, not a scratch, with FW190 and ME 109's shooting at him, and a fellow American did what the whole Luftwaffa couldn't do.

He sent me to YMCA camp and they had all sorts of things to do there, but I spent all my spare time swimming and at the rifle range. At the end of the 2 weeks, they had a shoot off for camp champ. I shot off with a 14 year old kid named Lee. After 4 draws he beat me by 1 point.

When I got home I asked Dad to get our 22. I went through the nomenclature and trear down and reassembly for him. Dad figured I could handle a gun and started teaching me and taking me hunting. He was too sick to teach my youngest brother, so I did it for him, same way he taught me. Brother worked for Pa Police Supply for 20 years in Chalk Hill Pa. I went in one day and some one said "Thats Jimmy's older Brother, he taught Jimmy everything he knows". That made me feel good as Jim was the shop expert on firarms.

Taught both my boys to hunt and fish and will teach my grand-daughter, when she gets a bit older (She's 4 now).

Our job is to pass on what we have learned and to help the younger generations keep this hunting and shooting tradition going, for the next 200 years.

TwoTrees

[rugerdude]

I had a good start into shooting, but it followed a little different path than most. I have pictures of my granddad holding his H&R Sportsman for me when I was about 4 or 5, while I pulled the trigger. Others have him holding an old Savage model 15 .22, again with me pulling the trigger. My dad was a shotgun man, but I only got to walk behind him and watch at that age. By the time I was 6 or 7 I was allowed to shoot the old model 15 by myself, but only in the yard with an adult present. Now the different part. At 8 I finally got a BB gun! Sounds kinda backwards, but at least this one was mine! Still coudn't shoot dad's shotgun though. Wouldn't get into shotguns til I was 11. My older cousin gave me a Stevens .410. That set a routine for several years. Guns for my birthday at 12, 13, 14, 15, and 16. Unfortunately, girls started gaining notice at that point and substantially cut into my gun budget. :roll: Got back on the wagon at 20 and haven't looked back! Best thing I've done yet was to marry an understanding woman!

[Char-Gar]

My first instruction in breath control, sight picture and trigger control came to me about 1948 from my Great Uncle Ed Featherson. Uncle Ed was a Marine in France during WWI. My second introduction to the same and four position shooting was at Camp Perry (Boy Scout) in Rio Hondo Texas about 1951.

During my days of small bore and high power competition I have a number of coaches and mentors.

There is nothing like having somebody next to you who knows how to put them in the X ring.

1) Position
2) Sight Picture
3) Breath Control
4) Trigger Control
5) Follow through

That is all there is to it....

[9.3X62AL]

Dad did most of the early work with rifles and shotguns, and he could work both right well. His partner and friend Leo Reyes taught me and my little sister about handguns, and--wouldn't ya know it--we both became rangemasters at the same agency about a year apart.

Daughters and nephews are my department, sis isn't real keen on kids shooting. Grandkids are next, and range days aren't too far in the future for them.

[Blackwater]

My father and some of his old Marine Corps buddies were my mentors. When I was still in the BB gun stage, he even taught me to use a sling - something I've always been very grateful for. Mine wan't the 2-pc. military type, of course, but I learned quickly and well what a sling can do for my shooting, even with a BB gun.

One story many of you will like, expecially you jarhaids: Long after he'd retired, and I was 18 I believe it was, I'd bought one of those old "Buffalo Scout" Colt clones of the .22 that was imported from Germany. Some of those old guns would actually SHOOT, if you didn't try to fan them like Roy Rogers, et al, and this one was pretty decent. I was in the garden with Dad, picking beans or peas or something, and I told him I wanted to try the gun, and shot at a spot on a tree. Not too bad, too. Dad said, "Give me that thing and let me see what I can do with it." I loaded 'er up, and handed it to him, and from about 30 yds., he stuck that arm out in a classic USMC target range stance, and slowly fired the 5 rds. for group and POI. We then walked over to check out the group, and lo an' behold if he hadn't put all 5 in a group I could nearly cover with a nickel!!! His group beat mine (I'd shot two handed, too) all to pieces. As he looked at that group, a slow wave of warm pride came over him, a subtle little smile came to his face, and a light into his eyes, and I KNOW he stuck his chest out just a dab. Somehow, there seemed to be a bit of a lilt in his step on the way back to the house that hadn't been there when we'd headed out to the garden, too. Funny how things happen like that, isn't it? It was great to be beaten that day. Just great.

[crazy mark]

My Great Uncle taught me using a model 63 Win .22 that I still have. I had a BB gun but he said I needed something to kill the birds tearing up his garden. Him and the neighbors kept me in shells. My dad tried teaching me to shoot a 30/30 and gave up saying I would never be able to hit anything. He didn't have any patience as after WWII he wasn't very fond of guns. The recoil and nose was a lot different between the 22 and 30/30. Once I started using ear plugs I could do real good with the Western Field 30/30 that cost me $75 in 1966 that I ordered from Montgomery Wards. Mark

[azcoyhunter]

My Father showed me first, then Senior Drill Instructor Sgt Wilson.

They both cared how good I was with a rifle, and at times could induce tremendous amounts of stress on a punk kid, but I learned.

Thanks to them both, I love shooting, mabey I am not the best, but I still love it.

[Springfield]

My father. First with a BB gun and later with the .22 so I could kill the woodpeckers that tore up the power poles. Didn't really know how to shoot a pistol properly until the Police Academy taught me. Second time I had shot a shotgun, too, the first time in Boy Scouts many years before.

[trooperdan]

My dad taught me but I failed to honor him when it was time. I went off to college (GA Tech or North Ave Trade School) and shot on the ROTC rifle team. When my first targets showed promise the coach asked me who taught me to shoot and I told him I was self-taught.

I'll never forget the disappointment on dad's face when i told him the story.. sorry dad, you taught me all that I know except for what I learned from the school of hard knocks when I didn't follow your advice!

Dad has been gone 23 years now but I speak to him often.

[USARO4]

It was my Dad he bought me a Daisy when I was 7 years old. Seems like it took forever for that birthday to come along. I never did shoot my eye out but I managed to put one in the palm of my hand when I was sitting on hay bale with my hand over the muzzle. Dang did that ever hurt, but it was a valuable self taught lesson in gun safety,

[piwo]

BSA . those .22 Springfield trainers at S-Bar-F camp in Missouri. I couldn't find one as an adult, but I taught my girls on a Mauser trainer .22. It's a Norinco nock-off of the K98 mauser, in .22. It's only real departure is that is uses a brno detachable 5 shot mag. It is quite accurate, and tree rats have no chance for survival when they fall under its sight.......

[StrawHat]

On my 8th birthday, my Dad took me out to the field beside the house and started my shooting career with a Winchester single shot 22.

44 years later, I am still shooting and loving it.

I still shoot smallbore, and have added largebore, small and large bore handgun and blackpowder rifle and handguns.

Pop di not teach me reloading but encouraged my pursuit of the reloading arts as I was a bit of a burden in the ammo department until i learned the local farmers did not like groundhogs. Depending on how many groundhogs I shot I would often recieve boxes of 22 for my shooting. One year a farmer gave me a brick of 22s for Christmas. My Pop certainly enjoyed that aspect of my shooting.

[357maximum]

My Dad started my shooting obsession, I was 5 years old and he handed me an old stevens favorite , and taught me how to use it.....my sister got the same gun a few years later, and somehow she ended up with it....it broke and she traded it in on a ruger 10/22....I could have kicked her in the @$$, all it needed was a firing pin....sure would love to have that one back...argh.

When I was about 10 or so he showed me how to re-fill the brass 30/30, 357 cases I so eagerly emptied...it has all been down hill from there...or uphill depends how you look at it, I spose.

The boolit casting thing....I caught on my own cause I am cheaper than he is, and now I am slowly weaning a few of his irons from the copper habit......circle of life...he he.

[Dale53]

My father was a certified "gunny" and started me early. He presented me with a .22/.410 over and under my ninth Christmas. We lived on a farm during WWII and I was in the woods every day. During hunting season, I hunted squirrels (still think squirrels with a rifle is the best sport EVER) and rabbits. Off season it was crows and ground hogs (in between it was fishing at the creek).

My father was a trap shooter and took me to the gun club at an early age. I met some wonderful people (many business leaders around Cincinnati, Ohio) and shot skeet and trap. When I was about 18 I discovered a local rifle club. We had the good fortune to have a "mover and shaker" in the gun club that was a smallbore guy that had actually competed at Camp Perry. There were only a dozen members at the time (1954) and some of us were my age. Several of us surpassed out mentor within the first year (no doubt, due to his coaching). We started shooting in a league (we had 14 teams in the area). Our club grew to be a leader in rifle clubs in the greater Cincinnati area and still is (we now have 650 members). We have a VERY strong junior program that is introducing the shooting sports to many youngsters.

I have shot competition in many disciplines and frankly like them all. I am now 71 and still competitive. This is truly a life time sport. I often think of my dad (gone from cancer at age 49) and my many mentors over the years. Now, through my writing and photography, I can give a bit back to the next generations.

Dale53

[Woolybooger]

My Dad, Started with a Daisy for Christmas at 7 and on to a singleshot 410 at 9 years old. My 2 sons and my daughter have all used the same 410. I grew up on a farm and Dad put a 25 cent bounty on ground hogs, I had to get close with the 410 but things changed when I traded for an old 22 mag. We had to bring him the tail to get our bounty. Like some others have said, Dad had no use for a handgun and wouldn't let me or my brother have one. Elmer and Skeeter added fuel to the handgun fire. I tried a couple cheap 22 revolvers and was very dissapointed that I couldn't shoot very well. I still remember my first real handgun, a model 14 Smith with target trigger and hammer and 8 3/8 barrel. No looking back from there. Dad kinda lightened up on handguns after he saw what could be done with one. Dad passed away in 2004 and not a day goes by that I don't miss him.
W.B.

[quack1]

My dad. Started me out with a Crossman pellet gun in the cellar. I could shoot it pretty good by the time I started grade school. After that, he let me shoot any of his guns with his supervision. Can't ever remember him saying no whenever I asked to go shoot. As soon as I was old enough to get a liscence, we hunted quite a bit, mostly ducks, but some of just about everything else there was to hunt in Pa. I started shooting over 50 years ago and still enjoy it. Dad never had an interest in casting, although he reloaded all his ammunition as far back as I can remember, so I started casting on my own when I was in high school. I still love to hunt, mostly ducks and doves. Dad is still around, but hasn't been able to hunt for quite a few years, or shoot for the last couple of years.

[corvette8n]

my Dad and a single shot Western Field .22, which he still has.
The gun has wear marks on the stock and barrel were he carried it on
the handle bars of his bike.
Under the buttplate is the date he bought it 1940 and price $3.00.
Today it is priceless.

[The Double D]

Saw this post this evening and it kinda brought a tear to my eye. Ya see last week I learned of the passing of Bill and Dorthy Hahn. Dorothy passed about two years ago after a long fight with Alzheimer's. Bill passed last July. Bill and Dorothy were instrumental in the starting of Cowboy shooting as we know it.

I have known Bill and Dorothy Hahn for over 35 years. As a young SGT, I met MSGT. Bill Hahn in 1970 at Camp Smith Hawaii. He was the coach of the Camp H.M. Smith Combat Pistol team. Bill taught me how to shoot a hand gun....or as Bill always said, "Doug don't tell people that, tell them, that I tried to teach you to shoot!" When he retired, I helped MGYSGT Bill Hahn unload a ton of guns from a u-haul van into his home in Oceanside.

When I was in the U.S. I tried to talk to Bill on the phone at least 3 or 4 times a years. I haven't kept in that close a contact since I came to Africa. Each time over the intervening years that I have been in SoCal area, it has included a visit to the Hahn's. The last visit was some time before Dorothy was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. I thought I last talked to Bill shortly before coming over here in November or December of 2005. The only time I ever saw a chink in Bill Hahn's armor was when he told me about Dorothy's illness. He must not have lasted long after her passing.

I sent Bill a letter this past November telling him about shooting in a South African Combat Pistol match. I was quiet pleased with myself. I had not fired a handgun in over 4 years and was up against some very sophisticated IPSC style shooters in and IPSC weighted match. I managed to take 5th place of 40 plus shooter, shooting the only revolver out there. Prior to the match I had fired 6 rounds to see were the sights printed. I credit Bills instruction those many years earlier with my success. I hope my letter sent in ignorance of Bill and Dorothy passing brought a small bit solace to their children Mike, Alicia, Eric and Mark.

The Hahns may not have introduced me to shooting, but they they taught me shooting and I will never forget them...Semper fi!

[scrapcan]

My uncles fed the entire family hunting. Mom was a single parent and here brothers are my "dads". I have a step father who came along when I was 14, but I was already raised and everyone knows who my dads are. They would let me hunt squirrels and rabbits while hunting with them.

When I was 10 I bought a marlin bolt action 22 and rigged up a way to carry it on my bike. During the summer I would ride across town to my uncle's house in the country (6-7 miles) spend the day shooting 22s into a big stump or into cans at the manure pile. rebuilt lawn mowers (another uncle taught me those skills) and bicycles to fund the shooting habit. I still think about those rides as 10-12 year old riding across town with a rifle and brick of 22s. At 14 I bought a marlin 30-30 carbine to hunt deer with. All down hill form there since I had to figure out how to reload. Bought my reloading stuff and learned from an old lyman manual in early 1980's. then I got to meet a long range shooter, military armorer (Air force), and gunsmith. That friendship drove the nail that required I find an understanding wife, which I have done.
not nearly as colorful of a story as most but I arrived at the same spot as you guys none the less.

Forgot to mention that the only episode of boy scouts was a 2 month stint that ended with the scout master shooting himself. did not really care for that method of teaching how to handle problems.

[Kraschenbirn]

I was fortunate to have several excellent teachers in my youth. First, there was my uncle, a disabled WWII vet who along with being my regular "baby-sitter" was a partner in a gun and (horse) tack shop. It was he who gave me my first "real" gun...a used single-barrel 20 ga...when I was eight and taught me to shoot it. I used to spend my Saturday mornings sweeping the shop and cleaning display cases in exchange for a half-dozen boxes of .22s or 20 ga. reloads. (The shop was just out side the town limits and had a clay-bird thrower and 50-yd. range out back.)

After that came the Boy Scouts. Our troop had a small-bore rifle team coached by a pair of Army Reservists who were also competition shooters. By the time I graduated from high school, I was a certified NRA-instructor and helping coach the scouts, myself.

Bill

[AZ-Stew]

My late Dad, bless him, was incredibly good at a LOT of things, but, unfortunately, he wasn't a very good teacher. He would show you something, then expect you to pick up the technique, but wasn't very good at helping if you didn't pick it up right away. I remember him telling me to "squeeze" the trigger of my BB gun, but since run-of-the-mill Daisy's aren't renowned for their "target triggers", I couldn't get the technique. I did become very adept at jerking that (must have been) 20 pound trigger. I carried this technique well into my years with the Remington M511X .22 that I bought in 66 with the money I earned bagging groceries. I occasionally hit what I was shooting at, but not as often as I would have liked. We never had any centerfire firearms around the house. I grew up in a small midwestern town, rather than on a farm or ranch, so shooting was an occasional passtime, not something done daily. I had to bicycle a minimum of 5 miles each direction to get to a place to shoot. I don't remember ever going out anywhere with Dad in the car to shoot. He was a fisherman, not a hunter or shooter, and I found fishing incredibly boring. I was (am) such a bad fisherman that I consider fish mythical creatures. And considering my shooting skills at the time, it's a good thing I didn't have to feed myself by hunting or fishing.

After the Navy, in its infinite wisdom, made me a Gunner's Mate I became more interested in firearms. After I got married I began buying guns and started tossing larger bullets in the general direction of the target. I also began to read everything I could get my hands on that was firearms related. As another said, Bill Jordan, Skeeter Skelton, Elmer Keith and Ed McGivern taught me plenty. The rest I had to learn on my own. The trigger "squeeze" was the technique that took the longest to learn. Too many years of doing it the wrong way had to be un-learned. I taught myself to handload and cast, with the help of a number of manuals and a lot of practice. In my early married Navy years I had what seemed to be plenty of disposable income (I was E-6 by that time, no kids) and while on shore duty I had plenty of time, as well. Dad thought I was nuts to have so many guns. I probably had about a dozen at the time. He couldn't seem to understand that I had developed the same passion for hunting and shooting that he had for fishing. He also thought that anyone who had that many guns must be pretty close to being a criminal of some sort.

I didn't really get good at shooting until I got transeferred to San Diego and started shooting with some of the early Practical Pistol groups. Wanting to do well in the matches caused me to practice more with handguns. That's where my skill really bagan to build. After I left the Navy I got a job in the LA area that allowed me to travel to the CA desert north of Barstow on a regular basis. I always took a .22 revolver with me and I plugged jack rabbits until I got tired of it. That experience taught me to calm down when I had game in sight, take my time and make the shot count. I got to the point where it didn't seem sporting to shoot them two-handed, so I started shooting them one-handed from the old NRA bulseye position. I won't say anything about the distances I shot them at, but it was very satisfying.

I finally began to "give back", becoming an NRA certified instructor, an instructor for the Seabees in the Navy Reserve and, after escaping the Left coast as a political refugee, became an Arizona Hunter Ed Instructor. I had a lot of fun and got a lot of satisfaction teaching others all the things it took me so long to learn on my own.

Bottom line, I guess I'm mostly self-taught.

Regards,

Stew

[1hole]

My grandfather allowed me to pull the trigger on his old even at the time Rem single shot .22 when I was five. (That rifle now sits in my safe, and my grandsons also got their first shots from it.) But the guy who really taught me to shoot was S/Sgt. Bishop, USAF, in mid '59.

Bishop had been army in the big one and knew what rifles were about. He put our basic training group between barracks and drilled us in dry fire basics, four postions and using the strap sling, for sight alignment, trigger squeeze and breath control. The "rifle" was the .30 M1 Carbine the AF used at the time.

Next day I got the highest score in my 76 man unit and it was the first center fire I ever put to shoulder. I had paid attention to the sargent and loved the shooting. Bishop was a typical grouch but I still appreciate his instructions. And he got off my ass after that day!

[Gun-adian]

My Dad with his Gevarm .22 semi-auto. I was about ten at the time.

I don't think I hit anything then. (still working on that)

Interestingly enough, it was about a year later I figured out how to convert it to full auto. That was a hoot!!! I remember showing my dad and all he said was "What took you so long?". Two minutes later we're in the back yard shooting it.

That time is thirty years gone.

[Doc Highwall]

Taught myself to shoot, handload,cast bullets,photography,and woodworking.

[Linstrum]

I pretty much learned how to shoot by myself but Dad got me started. The first gun I ever fired was my Dad’s Belgium Browning model 1916 .380 auto. I was stuffing envelopes for the upcoming California governor’s election between Goodwin Knight and Richard P. Graves at the time so that puts it in the fall of 1954. Dad was not an avid shooter or hunter but he did buy a Red Ryder BB gun when I was 5 and told me and my sister that if we ever pointed it at the house, the road, or anything alive that he would take and wrap it around the clothesline pole in the backyard and then use the remains to spank us with. About five years later, two older neighborhood boys came over to visit one afternoon and when they went into the house to get a drink of water they spotted the Red Ryder leaning in the corner of the kitchen. They ran out the back door with at when I wasn’t looking and promptly popped a BB into the garage where Dad was working. He came out and ran the boys off, telling them to never come back then asked me what had happened. When he found out that they had basically stolen it he didn’t carry out his threat to grace the clothesline post with its barrel, but he did lock it up for a week for not going to him instantly to tell him that the boys had taken it instead of trying to get it back from them by myself. Other than Dad showing me how to hold a rifle and pistol and how to squeeze the trigger, I taught myself how to shoot using the BB gun and a Benjamin pump-up pistol my grandmother gave me. For my 12th birthday Dad bought me a High Standard Sport King .22 autoloader carbine. He had ordered a rifle but they sent the carbine since they didn’t have any more rifles in stock at the time, so I kept it instead of sending the carbine back and then waiting for the rifle to arrive. Dad had also bought a High Standard 9-shot .22 revolver for himself and those two .22s were what I honed my shooting skills with until my best buddy’s father took us with him to the NRA Safe Hunters class at the local grade school when I was 14. When the safety class went to the range for the final lesson for hands-on training with CMP .22s I was the top shooter in the 100 or so people participating in the range class that day. The three instructors kept me after everybody had left and that afternoon they had me shoot again prone, sitting, standing, and at the bench with a sandbag rest, and when I was done the head NRA instructor said that I was the best young shooter he had worked with lately and sent my targets in to the NRA and I got a sharpshooter badge with my hunter safety certificate. Later that summer I bought a 91/30 Mosin-Nagant from Sears and Roebuck for $9.99. At the local ranch dump I used to shoot Budweiser beer bottles with it at 200 yards, not realizing at the time just how good that is with military sights. I also used to take it with me on family camping trips out to the desert and I used to put the sight ramp up a few notches and shoot at refrigerator-size boulders a quarter mile away. Some years later in 1969 that rifle saved me and some friends from problems with Charles Manson out in the desert up in Saline Valley just north of Death Valley, an instance where the presence of a firearm was all it took to prevent harm. I did have to fire the rifle, but it was not near the malingerers or at them, just where they could hear and see it to apprise them that we were armed. I didn’t do much shooting at all between the ages of 19 and 29, though. I did my first casting in 1964 for a 1914-dated British .303 that I owned for a very short time and when I was in college I made a ball mould for a replica .36-caliber Navy Colt that I had for a short time. Beyond the .303 British Enfield and the replica Colt, I did very little casting and reloading until 1979 when I bought a Garand and S&W Model 19 Combat .357 with 6” barrel and target sights. Because I had a place to shoot and friends who were also into shooting and hunting I have been quite active as a boolit caster since 1979, and now with this marvelous media called The Internet as an immediate resource for finding answers to all things related to casting and shooting, I am now more active than I have ever been.

[Hunter]

My father introduced me to shooting with an old Remington .22 and a Colt 1911 (from 1918). He was also the one who introduced me to reloading. I showed him how to cast 200gr LSWC for .45 ACP a few months ago.

[floodgate]

Linstrum:

Your story about the Manson group and Saline Valley really rang a bell with me, too; I spent some time there in the '70's. And further south, in Panamint Valley (would you believe, I didn't catch the pun until a couple of years back?), the worn .44 Special on my belt may well have saved my bacon at the foot of Surprise Canyon back in the mid-'70's. There had been a sort of Manson-copycat commune up at Panamint City that had dissolved in gunfire a few months back, and a bunch of the wannabees were still hanging around Chris Wick's Camp at the mouth of the Canyon. I let them get a good look at the .44, still in its thumbsnap holster; they backed off, and I sauntered (shaking a bit inside, but...) back to the truck and wended my way back out of the Canyon.

Who taught me to shoot? An old desert type, Red Leonard, in Independence, when I was 11 or 12, with a hardware-store brand .22 single-shot bolt-action a friend of my Dad's (still in Europe at the time - 1944) had won on a punchboard in a bar, and gave my Mom to pass on to me when I came of age. Red had an old '86 Winchester in .40-82, but never fired it anymore, just left it on the wall; he gave us a couple of boxes of "shells" for it, and we tore them open to get the BP out, to make rockets with. And then, we found a couple of boxes of copper-cased .25 Stevens loads, and discovered you could pull the bullets with a pair of pliers, stuff the loaded cases over a 1/4"dowel, and shoot them from a bow at a rock and get a hellacious "BANG" out of them. I suppose cartridge collectors (and shooters of the older arms, would kill us for doing that, today. The cheapest .22 ammo any of us could find were the 100-round tins of "short-'n'-shorts" (BB caps: "shorter than .22 Shorts"; get it??) we could occasionally find at the local hardware store.

Damn, why do you let me ramble on so....?

floodgate

[Lee]

My father served in WWII. Ugly enough that he never really talked about it, and didn't ever care if there were guns in the house. So, when my pleadings became unbearable, one of his friends started taking me to local ranges and allowed me to tag-a-long shoot in the competitions. .22/.38/.45 slow/timed/rapid fire. I learned the old "single handed classic, other hand in back pocket" technique, and I still can't break the habit today. Rifles and shotguns naturally followed. They are both gone now, and as said before by others, I still talk with them both. And miss them both................................Lee;-)

[9.3X62AL]

The mention of the Manson group and like characters around Death Valley brings to mind that by entering the backcountry, you join the food chain--not necessarily at the top. A couple months back, Marie and I had a bit of a scare like that--which the Mini-14's mere presence mollified immediately. The ability to keep one's self and loved ones safe through skill with arms may be the most precious legacy our many mentors gifted us with. I know for a fact that the late Leo Reyes' teachings saved my life in 1981. Requiescat in pacem, Leo.

[montana_charlie]

My Dad had two pistols, and let us boys fire them a time or two...but he wasn't 'a shooter'.
Red Ryder taught me to hit reliably. Guns & Ammo magazine explained correct sight picture. T/Sgt Wyndam (A.F. Basic Training) covered trigger pull while dry-firing the M-1 carbine with a penny laying on the barrel.

Having been trained by 'experts', I earned the A.F. 'expert' ribbon whenever required to requalify...demonstrated 'proficiency' with the M-60 in Vietnam...and completed the German small arms qualification course (assault rifle and machine gun) while stationed at Spangdahlem.

Living in a state where competent riflemen are common, I am considered 'a good shot'...thanks to the 'expert' training.
CM

[ktw]

Neither my dad, grandfathers or uncles were shooters. A couple of them may have been able to dig a shotgun of the closet if they had to, but none of them hunted.

Nevertheless, there was a series of BB and pellet guns, then the writings of Jack O'Connor and others when I was a teenager. I would be the first to admit, however, that I never really learned to shoot until I found myself on a Marine Corp rifle range.

The previous replies raise a side question. Who still has their first firearm?

I don't recall what happened to the Marlin bolt action 22 I started with. I replaced it early on with a Savage-Anschutz 164 Sporter (was an avid squirrel hunter in my teens) and still have that.

Still have the Ruger M77 that was my first centerfire rifle.

Still have the Savage-Fox side-by-side that was my first shotgun.

Still have the Ruger MkI that was my first handgun.

-ktw

[Poygan]

I think my dad was typical of that time - he had a Winchester model 12 and a Winchester model 63 - but they were primarily tools. I don't think he was particularly knowledgable about guns and I can't recall ever seeing him clean one. I got a Red Rider BB gun around age six and a Crossmann .22 air rifle a year or so later. My first .22 rifle was a Marlin bolt actin at age 12 (still have it). My first pistol was a S&W model 17 at age 16 (still have that, too). But in terms of learning, I'm mostly self taught and the same for reloading with the aid of a lot of reading.

I'm not sure why but at an early age, I was fascinated by guns and anything that exploded. At an early age, I found some old black powder in my great uncle's garage. Life was good (and exciting) until that ran out. Fireworks were beyond joy! I can still remember the formula for flash powder. My but this brings back a lot of foolish recollections!

[Molly]

I guess it was Dad. I really don't remember. My earliest firearms related memory was looking UP at the end of a Mossburg 22 that dad had standing on the back porch. We were shooting at bottle caps on the bank behind the house, maybe 40 or 50 feet. Actually, we weren't shooting AT them. We were competing to see who could come the closest without hitting one. I don't remember learning to shoot.

My second firearms related memory involved the 1st or 2nd grade 'school play'. I was one of about four kids who were supposed to dress up like cowboys and sit around a red cellophane / flashlight campfire and sing "Home on the Range". I was told to dress like a cowboy, and I did! I wore pap's .41 Colt Lightening on my hip. The teacher went BANANAS! Turned out to be a real anti-gun nut, and was absolutely terrified by the kid. Called the principal, who let me go ahead after dad explained that the pistol had been in a fire, and wasn't safe, so dad had driven a piece of pipe down the barrel, and filed off the firing pin before letting me use it as a cap gun.

Other memories include the HS principal holding a surprise locker inspection and finding several guns in my locker. In those non-PC days, he just told me to take them home and not bring them back. And then there was the time I was challanged by the cop in the rotunda of the state capital building with a big Rem Rolling Block on my shoulder. He must have been non-PC too, because when I explained that I was just taking it to show the museum curator, he just said 'OK, go ahead."

Ah, those were the days, when a school kid's pocket knife was a tool, not a weapon, and a little common sense was a bit more common.

[felix]

Just about everyone I met who shot guns. I kept the best secrets for me, and discarded the remaining. ... felix

[TAWILDCATT]

my father taught me.he was in NG and at 5? let me shoot NG 22 I still remember the black hole in target.when I got older he had a Mossberg 43b target gun and taught me to shoot on the range in the fire station.later he borrowed 2 springfields from Legion.he was rated expert in Marines.and NG.I had many IJs H&R and others of early 1900s.in high school I was in rifle club and was expert in NRA.shot in Randolf Hearst sponsered postal matchs our team kept in first 1 to 3 place.those were the days for shooting.$7.50 for Mossberg 42b in store.just walk in and plunk your money down.no age or checkup.is it better or safer now???[smilie=1: I still have Mossberg #44us.sorry to see them not made.:coffee: :Fire: