Saturday, October 12, 2019

Monsieur Haricots et la Milice

Beans and the Militia. (For those who don't read French and are too lazy to use google-translate.)

 (I hate the preview feature of Blogger, you never really know how big the text is going to be until it actually publishes, the bastiges.  So sorry about that.)

Oh, yeah, start laughing now, flyboy.  You know who you are.  But this was real!

A couple of days ago, when OldAFSarge was mumbling about leaving to go see The Nuke get married, but didn’t leave, because he’s like that, I mentioned that I had kinda gone to a militia meeting. And, yes, I sure did. And here’s the tale…

Back in the dark days of 2009, remember those days?  They were dark. We had an avowed socialist take over control of the country, put in power via evil means. He was already further stirring up racial problems as President that he and his goons had stirred up before the election. And His administration started a national rat-line for people to report anti-his administration talk. Shades of the beginnings of Nazi Germany.  Heil Whatsisface!

On top of that, Florida was still recovering from being hit 3 times by hurricanes in 2004. A lot of backwoods places still hadn’t totally recovered, and everyone remembered some of the ‘issues’ that erupted in inner cities, not well reported by media, but if you think widespread looting and other stupidity, well, you ain’t wrong.

So, all across America, people were actually kinda scared or worried, at least those in conservativish areas. Inner cities were blowing up in stupidity and racial issues. A president and his staff were calling a good ½ or more of the nation ‘racists’ and other not-nice things. The economy sucked rocks, and was getting worse by the day. All issues which make people think of banding together in self-protection societies.

Beans and Mrs. Andrew have also just acquired their first real firearms. Mr. Remington 510 single shot bolt-action .22 (short, long, long rifle) was good enough for raccoons, but not good enough for 2 legged pests. We already had built up our ‘bug-in’ supplies, lots of canned foods and the means to cook them without power, but we were lacking in self defense (well, except for a sword, a huge collection of knives (Mrs. Andrew really likes knives. Pocket knives, folding knives, non-folding knives... yeah, some nights she worries me…,) some low-power bows (30lb pull or less, good enough for hitting eyes, not good enough for punching through body armor) and such, but lacking in bang-stick power. We just got a couple .40cal Springfield XDs (one compact, one full size – the compact would take full size mags, really neat) and a Remington 870 bought from a coply friend (we had to make the exchange in the dirt on the other side of the road from the building I worked in, as a member of the PD, because I was a ‘civilian’ and I couldn’t have firearms on city property.  Alachua County is definitely not Brevard County, where the Sheriff said he'd not enforce gun-free zones in county buildings.) Both Mrs. Andrew and I had some previous firearms training way in the past, but we were looking into getting our CCWs and needed to take a class.

Fortuitously, one of our friends said he was having some friends over for some weapons talks  and some prepping and basic storm survival talks, and there was going to be a CCW teacher there. Being a weekend, not already filled by our busy schedule, we accepted.

So one Saturday, we loaded up Beans, Mrs. Andrew, our service dog Liesl, Mrs. Andrew’s powered wheelchair at the time, and wended our way down to the forest haunt of our friend, in order to fulfill the classroom requirements of the CCW permit, and to talk survival and firearms and social unrest and NOT TREASON and such. A fine fall day, and we are getting close to the house and we see a sign saying “Militiafest” with an arrow pointing roughly the direction of where we were going. “Hmmm,” we say to each other. “Seems like other people are having a fun time also this weekend.  Oh, well, let's go to X friend's house”  (Insert ominous foreshadowing music here...)

We get even closer to friend’s house, and see another “Militiafest” sign, and we get that weird feeling that this day was going to turn into a Twilight Zone episode (doodoo-doodoo-doodoo-doodoo.)

We pull into our friend’s yard, and see yet another “Militiafest” sign, and a whole buncha people, around 30 or so, couples mostly, standing around talking, and our friend and his wife. Okay, we’re here, hmmmm…. (Being that we both worked for local government, and the media had been really beating the bandwagon about 'Teh Ebil White Mulitias...' and TEWMs resistance to 'a valid elected government' well, this could be... interesting.)

Everyone else is dressed in some sort of camo. Some are openly carrying weapons, some aren’t. All of them seemed mostly normal, only one or two that seemed ‘off.’ In other words, basically normal folk. We trudge (and wheel) to the backyard where the opening of the ‘Fest begins, with a Pledge of Allegiance and a prayer, and then the friend says somethings interesting, basically to not take peoples’ photos as at least 1-2 of the participants are going to be reporting everything to the authorities, whether FBI or someone else, and a few of the other participants have government jobs and don’t want to get in trouble for being there.

Well, let the fun begin!

We, Mrs. Beans and I, and one other repaired to the front of the yard to take our CCW class from a LEO who was his agency’s firearms instructor, and we all had a ripping good time. Funny, informative, and just a good time. Not all CCW classes have to be boring. Ours wasn’t, especially as the instructor had quite a few examples of what the class was about. Yeah, guns. Small ones, medium ones, large ones, single shots, revolvers, semi-autos, funky-weird ones that he cautioned us to never ever buy (like a Lorcin .25ACP, more likely to get you killed or kill you directly than anyone you’re pointing the thing at, or a late period Nambu that he said was a great way of committing suicide if you used it.) Heck, he even talked about how to safely carry a friggin bazooka, which is let someone else carry the ammo. All fun, all games, good times, really good times. We paid our teacher fee and got our signed forms saying we took the class and that was that (unfortunately, illness and in-laws sucked our fun money away so we never got our CCWs before the class time expired, and, well, dang-it, money hasn’t exactly been falling from the sky, now, has it and why should I have to pay to exercise my 2nd Amendment rights, right?) (I mean, who doesn't want to carry a  bazooka or panzershreck once in a while when you go downtown to go shopping.  Makes getting a parking spot much more funner!)

After lunch, we then entered into the more serious part of Militiafest, which was discussing when the poop hit the rotary air moving machine, what we all were to do. Discussions about ‘bugging in’ vs ‘bugging out’ (staying in place vs getting out of Dodge) and how to tell, if you are bugging out, when to bug out. And where to bug out. Which was to (REDACTED – REDACTED – REDACTED – REDACTED)

Then there were some instructional. Basically the women and the one or two men not ‘combat ready’ all hung around in the shade talking and gabbing and boring the carp out of Mrs. Andrew. The ‘combattants’ started doing classwork. Most of the ‘students’ were supposedly somewhat trained to goodly standards already via various Government services or martial arts styles, supposedly, with only a few complete newbies to combat training. Hey, militia, right? Militia aren’t supposed to stand around and hand out pamphlets, they’re supposed to do militia things, right? Like stand up against tyranny and fight bad guys and stuff, right?

Like, bayonet fighting. Not actually sticking a bayonet into a target, but how to use a bayonet mounted on a rifle. The friend, who was a Marine and Army Nat-Guard NCO who spent lots of time overseas, tried to get the other people to understand how to stand and how to use a bayonet. They didn’t quite get the picture, so the friend called on me. And we went at it like gangbusters. (The friend was also in the SCA, and a good fighter, and very good at pole-mounted weapons, as was I.) We gave a rather brilliant demonstration of how to approach, stab, feint, butt-strike, trip, stab, continue. And then we did individual training.

Oh, boy. I’ve seen better fighting by those foam sword weenies with elf ears at a Ren Faire. Dang. What part of ‘feint stab to the eyes, step in, punch the butt of the weapon into the goon’s guts, push him over, stab him on the way down, or better yet, shoot him on the way down, then stab him’ can’t you friggin understand? I mean, I swear the disembodied spirit of a napping R. Lee Ermey would have slit his own astral throat watching these guys and a gal try to play at soldiers. Yikes!!!!  (Can I do bayonet maneuvers?  Duh, and doubly duh in using an AR15ish as a shield while you chop sumdood up and down with your field knife, like a Kukri or short sword or machete or bolo knife or chopper or...  That's just sword and shield work, rather than polearm fighting, where the pole is both offense and defense.)(I mean, geez, I can teach SCA dweebs and geeks how to fight, and these people just.. well... you know...., some got it.  Some got it good, some not so much, some were of the 'put down the dull knife and back away before you hurt yourself or someone else.)

Fun Fact about SCA Fighting:  When you get 'authorized' to fight, authorization being the ability to actually fight in SCA tourneys or battles, rather than just practice, you have to prove to the authorizing marshals and fighters (admin pukes who can beat you up, and another fighter to serve as the target) that you, the authorizing fighter, are not a threat to yourself or others due to your lameness and pure stupidity.  Rise above abject lameness and painful stupidity?  You can get authorized.  Authorization doesn't mean that someone won't beat you like a rented pell the minute you step onto the tourney field or in a battle.  Just that they won't hurt themselves beating the dogsnot out of you, and you won't hurt yourself when you fall down screaming like a guuuurl whether you get hit or not (Yes, I have seen one person, in the middle of a battle, just stop and have a flaming breakdown and pee themselves in fear because 'I'm Scawed!!!'  Dude/Dudette/Whatever- this is a full contact contact sport.  Man/Woman/Whatever up or get off the field.  Some People's Kids!!!!)

Then we moved to ‘field exercises.’ Like how to patrol, as a unit. So my friend sticks one of the more reliable guys up front, and tosses me at the end of the flank of the group, and proceeds to instruct us how to move as a patrol unit, while covering all 360 degrees with eyes and paying attention to what was going on.

Okay, side note, I was in blue jeans and a polo shirt, and a stick. Everyone else was in full camo outfits and web gear and stuff, and had real weapons (cleared and checked with no mags by my friend, but, dangit, I would have felt better if there were some obvious breach locks or tags showing.) Comment about my fellow militia members to follow…

Why me at the far end of the flank? Well, in the SCA, in the group I hung with, I was always the left end guy of the shield wall. So? Well, in a shield wall, the most important member of the Wall is the right guy, the Shield Prime. He or She (heck, nothing neater than seeing a sexy gal with lipstick in the line next to you. I tell you, really gives you a reason to stand up and fight!) is the one that steers the Wall unit, moves it forward, to the left, right, to stand, to prepare to receive a charge, to kneel (easier to receive a charge and hold it down if you kneel and brace, plus the long weapons behind you can poke the enemies in their eyes easier if your fat head isn’t in the way.) But the driver of the wall, the one that keeps the spacing, swaps in new shield members, keeping the Wall moving as a single unit, is the far left guy. He’s the guy who has to be big and good enough to hold off two or three enemies at once, while normal wallers only have to hold off one at a time. He’s the guy who screams for help when he notices a big friggin hole between him and the next left unit that a bunch of enemy rhinos are about to plow through. Stuff like that. And I, not really being overly proud here, just truthful, was a really good Shield Second.

So, well, shield wall, gun wall, only difference is weapons and spacing, but the basics are the same. The far flanker has to watch more area, while watching the spacing of the unit, while doing just about everything else, while moving about twice as far as everyone else in the unit. All things I was a known component. And my friend could trust me.

Here we are, doing a patrol line with me on the far left, or doing a patrol line with me on the far right, or whatever with me on the far end doing my job, keeping up with everyone, maintaining spacing, etc. V formation, inverted V formation, whatever.

After a few run-throughs, the friend ‘let’ the guy he’d assigned as the ‘squad’ leader run the unit, and he disappeared. Here we are, trudging through the exercises, again, with the same guys screwing up, again, and suddenly we all here one of those screaming firecrackers come flying towards us. Everyone else stops and looks. Me, the SCA fighter (who watched way too much “Combat” and “Rat Patrol” and other really good war shows, dang, I miss those) immediately, without knowing what my friend was doing, screamed “Incoming” and dove for the deck, ass-to-the-blast. All those ‘prior service’ and ‘serious survivalists’? Standing, slack-jawed, wondering what was up.

Friend comes out, screaming like the sainted R. Lee Ermey (or should it be cannon-ized in recognition to prior service. Badda-boom, kshish…) and hollering how everyone was dead or wounded, except for the only person who didn’t come here with a gun, pointing at me.

We do this about 30 more times, and I swear, my friend was just getting angrier and angrier, as the slack-jawed idiots were only slowly getting the idea of dropping to the ground or reacting to a shooter (roman candles…) or whatever obvious sign of bad-stuff-coming-our-direction. And, yeah, the fat guy who’s never served was consistently the only one to react appropriately.

Oy vey.

As to analysis of some of the other people there? I think they were invited in order to serve as cheap supply from their dead bodies. Seriously. One guy was so out of shape he wheezed just walking. Had about $5k or more of gun, second gun, third gun, supplies etc. on him. I think my total SCA kit, with all my weapons and shields and extra armor (like an armor dickey, gotta have an armor dickey if you’re getting shot at by blunted arrows) weighed less than all the kit and caboodle that guy was wearing.

And, funny, Monday after Militiafest my lieutenant asked me if I had a good weekend. He never ever asked me about my weekends before. Couple days later he asked me how I liked the (REDACTED) National Forest.

A month later, the Southern Poverty Law Center (hwack-sptoie) published a 3 line burb in their hater newsletter about Militiafest.

So my friend was right. Amongst 30ish people who showed up, at least one was a rat and reported to some authorities who reported to my chief-of-police who reported to my boss (the LT) by Monday that I was there. Which means that some really darned footwork and research was required to identify me, who I worked for, and notified thusly, within 48 hours, on a weekend.  Which was really interesting, considering Big Brother, under the guise of the DOJ under the worst president ever, doing a darned good job of tracking down terrorists and known criminals, like those carrying guns at a polling place to scare away one party’s voters or something.

Also, in my friend's defense, he was doing this to kinda stick it into the spying government's eye and to piss off the people at the SPLC.  At the gathering we had blacks, whites, hispanics, native americans, orientals, males, females, Christians, not-Christians, married, unmarried.  It was decidedly not a 'White Mulitia, hurhur, banjo-playing KKK loving supremacists.'  Yet that is the spin that the SPLC and 44's gov kinda put on it, along with other 'self-aid groups.' 

It was also a way of scaring into these people's heads as to how much they need to learn and practice and prepare just in case of 'End Times' or 'Da Hood' (quite a few lived near St. Petersburg, which has a rather 'vibrant' minority population.  Vibrant in muggings and shootings and wide-spread lootings.  So there's that aspect.

Thus ends my Militia tale. Well. A fun time was had by all. And Mrs. Andrew and I decided to ‘bug-in.’ Still haven’t gotten my CCW yet. Though I’m still hoping Florida will go ‘Constitutional Carry.’

I mean, they weren't bad people.  They were honestly afraid of what their country was becoming after "Hope and Change and Other Ambiguous but Highly Socialist Words" took over.  Just... not people I would want to trust my life to.  YaknowwhatImean?  Decent folk, some slightly off their rocker, but decent folk.  Some who would not survive 5 seconds once the ball dropped.  Hopefully they all at least did some basic prepping and stocked a week or two of food and drink away, maybe more. (Seriously, if I had the money, I'd have a place big enough that I could have a year's worth of supplies like the Mormons try to do.  Hey, I live in Hurricane Country, and having a year's stock of X means you can ride the fluctuating prices of X much easier than if you just rely on replacing X the next time you go to the grocery store after using X.  Seriously.  I'd have a horde of supplies from TP to paper towels to soap to all sorts of food items along with backup generators and backups for the backup.  If'n I had the money that is.)(And both an indoor range in the basement or shop, and an outdoor range (300' to 500', dirt-filled gambion backstop with covered shooting shed, no, I haven't ever thought about this...) and an Action TrackChair (look it up, really friggin cool) for Mrs. Andrew and a up-powered golfcart or ATV for me (because it's not always practical to break out the M113...) and no I have never had fanciful thoughts about my survival bunker facility, nope, nuhuh...)

(Seriously, as much as I’d love to go hide in some forest location, with my allergies and Mrs. Andrew’s lack of 2-legged mobility and both our bodies’ requirements for various drugs, well, going out in blazing glory from the comfort of our home is much more realistic and better way of becoming dead than death-by-allergies and death-by-lack-of.)


  1. Well Beans, an interesting read this morning. Regarding Mrs. Andrews, made the mistake of leaving two knives together overnight years ago, next morning there's a third, then a get the idea. Ken Onion is a favorite designer along with the M16 line from CRKT. The SPLC is held in the same esteem (lack of) that the MSM is held in in this household. My state requires a carry permit that costs $100.00 initially then $75.00 to renew after five years, government wants it's oil. Oh... it's 34F outside by my back door, due to warm to 39F this afternoon. Tough football weather for the high school kids last night.

    1. Florida says it is $60 for the permit, plus $42 for initial fingerprinting plus the cost of the CCW class, with a $50 renewal every 7 years.

      It seems not to be a lot, but when you have lots of mandatory expenses like medical costs, well, there's a reason we eat at home and don't go to the movies. Plus, well, it really burns my arse to have to pay for a 'right.' If you pay for it, then it's a privilege, not a right.

      And then there are the ancillary costs, like shirts 1 size larger than already large (ahem..) and heavy duty belts so no longer WallyWorld belts, but more like $50-60 heavy duty belts, and of course there is the holster game. Everyone I know who carries concealed has at least 4-5 holsters at between $20 to $70 per holster, then there's the extra mag carrier and then there's this and that and the other thing, not because they are easy but because they are hard and suddenly there goes the budget for a year because... Jerks. I want my right, not my privilege.

      Mrs. Andrew likes shiny things. Knives are shiny. Therefore... She has a small collection of those nice Case hunting/camping knives, which are very pretty and very useful. And then the NRA keeps sending her knives. And she got knives and multitools from her work, and so she has a very nice collection.

      And.. I have a whole belt of various knives and multitools and sharp implements of destruction just from various things (work used to throw out some stuff into the dumpster that wasn't on city property, and I'd dumpster dive and get some good stuff) and also NRA (my current going out carry knife is a nice NRA knife, blade stays sharp, locks correctly.) My bedside knife is a nice Kobalt brand with rubber grip on the handle and it stays very sharp (once I sharpened it.)

      Knives. They are ever so useful.

    2. +1 for CRKT. I've owned an M16-01K (spear point, aluminum handle, British racing green)for a decade or so. Also have a Homefront K270GKP, although living in the Metroplex, I have not had much opportunity to put it through it's paces.

      Have also owned one of these for a couple of decades--

      Comes with a polymer sheath with integral belt loop. As luck would have it, combo mounts up for front shoulder carry on the Vietnam era LBE suspenders like it was made for it. No mods, not 100 mph tape.

    3. My good LT, when he got transferred from my unit (at the pd) to detectives, gave me his Cold Steel Kukri-machete.

      I've done the whole 'Forged in Fire' torture test with that sucker. Very nice, verry nice. Weight is just right to make the blade flow through the air. Did I say it was very nice?

      Sharpened it the first time and that sucker bit me and I didn't feel it, until the dripping started.

      I have to re-handle an old K-Bar, but even with the handle falling off that sucker is still darned good. Nice knife.

  2. I did the same recon by presence during the 90's. Shortly after graduating college, I got an invite from a martial arts teacher I'd met, and once a month for several months we made the 4 hour trip to spend Friday night to Sunday morning camping on the river bank.

    We ran patrols to familiarize our selves with land navigation. We never shot during those trips, but I did learn a bit of small unit info. Setting guard rotas, food preps, some knife work. All in all a good basic understanding that living rough isn't much fun, but can be survived. And if you have some motivated team members, you can run a camp.

    Militia??? Not sure how that would work out. I completely understand the percentages that served during the Revolution, but the civil war?? Man, they were motivated.

    1. I can recon in the woods. But for the most part, being allergic to the color Green and the texture Waxy means that unless I'm covered head to toe, I'm gonna end up covered in some sort of reaction. And, well, I am almost never quiet. Wheezy, snorty, phlemmy. Yeah.

      Now in my SCA armor, I am covered head to toe with a full grill helmet and my adrenaline pumping so I'm relatively safe from vegetation when I was fighting. And, fortuitously, there were very few fights in woods.

      I always make sure to know the area I live in. So if there are woods behind my house or whatever, I'll go and check that area out. That's how I found the demon hole that I described in my 'raccoon invasion story. A rectangle about 10x20, dug into the ground.

      As to a formed neighborhood militia, they seem to work well during disasters to help hold back the looters and thugs. Organized Militia like the tv and movies make out to be the worse thing since the KKK? Some of them are good, some are bad, depends on the people in them and especially the people running them.

      It seems that recognized militia units, kinda like, well, your other fraternal organizations, would do well if they were allowed to do their drill and practice in the open. But the current political climate would freak. Freak hard. Maybe if you disguised it as a Civil War unit (just substitute modern guns when needed.) The secret militia end up like many secret groups, breaking down from stupidity amongst the rank and leadership, and the need to be secret.

      We gave up a lot of ability to form militia when we abrogated our self-protection rights to the new concept of police back before and after the Civil War. In some ways good, in some ways bad. Sure there were lawmen before widespread formalized law enforcement, but formed militia of LEOs for a city was a lot less common then than now.

      Oh, well.

  3. Miss Jeanie and I were in the land of the Gators (GO! by the way) yesterday for her 6 mo check up at North Florida Hospital. All is terrific with her parts, thanks to chemo, etc. She's feels great. Well, the point is we drove through the (redacted) National Forest twice and enjoyed State Road 40 all the way East 'til making the left turn at the ocean. I always wonder how many people are living in there. Every few miles or so, you'll see a pathway into the forest. That creeps me out. It is SO DENSE right up to the road. I can see why it is the favorite of authors who write about Central Florida, as a place to put the bodies.
    On a brighter note, I got my CCW, finally, the other day by showing them my DD-214 and a check for $119. That's it. No class. They assume that my military training qualified me. Even though I did carry in the service (S&W 357 Combat Masterpiece), I haven't put many rounds through in the last few years. We are taking a refresher class next month. I probably won't carry (often), but it's there if I change my mind. My last live fire experience was working my way through the San José PD Tac Range with number one son (now retired after 30 years). We used some kind of wax bullets that worked in a normal weapon. Fun.
    Beans - lunch next time?

    1. Glad Miss Jeanie is doing well. Cancer doth sucketh most greatly. Mrs. Andrew has survived two big cancer attacks herself, fortunately just requiring surgery and removal of this and that.

      The (Redacted) National Forest is back to being thick again. Back in 1990 during the firestorms, there were whole sections that were wiped out. And few people realize there's a Navy Bombing Range deep in it.

      Glad you got your CCW. I should get off my duff and get mine, but there always stupid bills that get caught in the way. Sad, so sad.

      As to lunch, sounds like a good idea, barring stuff going in.

    2. Well...if (Redacted) National Forest has a Navy Bombing Range on it, I've used weapons on it, some that go bang and then thud others that go thud and then bang. The former are more fun as they go bang 6000 times per minute.

      As per "militia", well...if it hits the fan, there will be a lot of put up or shut up initially, and I suspect an awful lot of shut up will be occurring.

    3. A friend of mine ended up driving into the secret Navy bomb lair in (Redacted)NatForest. While things were falling. He said it was an interesting time.

      The 'militia' experience was interesting. Made me wonder what in the heck the Armed Forces were teaching people if all of those 'prior service' folk were that inept. Well, I guess not every service believes 'First a Rifleman, then...'

      2009 to 2016 were definitely interesting times...

  4. Knives. I carry a Ken Onion designed Kershaw Blur, I like the knife, and they are a nice company to deal with.

    EDC. There are ancillary costs, but the first step is to get the permit. You are correct about the cost, and you are correct that requiring a carry permit violates our basic rights. But carrying that weapon is like having insurance, you hope you will never need it, but if you need it, it is worth every penny.

    Good post.

    1. Thanks. This post has been in my mind for a while.

      I've been saving up for the class and the license and the holster. Just, well, life tends to intrude. One of these days. But definitely 10 seconds after I win the lottery!

  5. Great & very amusing post, Beans!
    I used to go to Florida pretty often (like every other month--yes, there was a girl involved), but it's been awhile. I know their idea of "concealed carry" is a farce, but I don't know about the rest.
    Here in TN, the .gov, state variety, did something right for once & decided that one's vehicle is an extension of one's home. That means, basically, that one may carry a firearm in the vehicle without permission from Uncle. One may not exit the vehicle with said weapon unless on friendly territory, but at least one can be safe(r) whilst in the vehicle.
    I guess it's too much to hope that Tallahassee has become similarly enlightened.
    Thanks for the post!
    --Tennessee Budd

    1. The main issue with Florida Concealed Carry is that there is a provision for accidentally exposing the gun. It is up to the LEO who sees it to determine if it was just an accidental amount of time or if the carrier is doing it purposely.

      So, of course, more liberal leftist poopholes like Tallahassee or Gainesville or Broward County will see a microsecond exposure as purposeful and arrest the carrier, while other places not so much.

      Our previous governor, Rick Scott, really screwed us FL gun people after the Parkland mess. FDLE knew within 24 hours who did it, why, how he got his guns (his lovely mother bought them for him, knowing he was a mental case, but did she get charged? Nooooo...) and that the Broward County sheriffs violated their own policies and didn't enter. Bastiges. Almost like they were hoping something was going to happen so the anti-gunners could jump into the fray.

      And Tallahassee? It's gone to the savages. One of the FL governor candidates was the ex-mayor of Tallahassee and was under federal investigation for levels of corruption that would insure his rapid rise to the tops of the Democrat party.

    2. When I traveled there, I never used a holster, for just that reason. I didn't want a shirt riding up & getting me busted, so I only carried a small pistol in my pocket.

  6. Hey Bean

    I remembered a joke in the mid 90's when the militia was ramping up after Slick Willie and Ruby Ridge and Waco. "How do you know who the informant is in your militia group?...He will be the only one who dues are current." I had thought about joining some militia groups here in GA, but what I have seen, I am not impressed. I do wish that the militia groups could practice in the open, it would help in keeping the crazies away and make it mainstream. Now nobody wants to get involved because of the pressure from certain groups and the feebies

    1. Pretty much what you said. There are some good militia-like groups, usually associated with one church or another, but for the most part...

      My feeling is that if there were more actual local militias, allowed to train and protect the area, maybe as an auxiliary of the local sheriff or pd, that would be better than the Mulitias, dur, dur.

      And definitely. The one who is paid up, has all the free time, has all the nice stuff, is willing to volunteer for everything, well... NARC!

  7. @ Beans--"The 'militia' experience was interesting. Made me wonder what in the heck the Armed Forces were teaching people if all of those 'prior service' folk were that inept. Well, I guess not every service believes 'First a Rifleman, then...'"

    I was in an Army maintenance company on a post in the suburbs of Nuremberg. We shared the post with two artillery battalions. One night I was part of our units post guard contingent. We carried our M16's, but no ammo. About 2 a.m., I'm walking a post around one of the motor pools. I round a corner and come face to face with an artillery Major and a Captain who are out checking on the guard posts. After the usual fanning of foreheads and pleasantries, the conversation goes like this--

    Major "What's the battle sight zero on your weapon, soldier?"

    Me "I have no idea, sir."

    Major "So you've never been to the range?"

    Me "Oh yes sir, I've been to the range."

    Major "So you HAVE fired your weapon."

    Me "No sir."

    Major "Why not?"

    Me "Because it was back in the arms room, sir."

    I see the solder starting to melt from his ears.

    Me "Sir, when our unit goes to the range, they grab the first 15 rifles in the rack (15 firing points). The rifles are set up prone supported at 25 yards. The targets are full silhouettes. Everybody rotates through and shoots the same targets, which look like Swiss cheese. There is no score. Each shooter gets one magazine with 18 rounds to fire for "familiarization". We get to do this once a year. Sir."

    Major "Carry on" and walks away shaking his head.

    That was in 1975. And don't get me wrong. I don't mean to imply that it could or should have been different. That's just the way it was then. Our standing joke was that if the Russians came through the Fulda Gap at midnight, we could all meet for breakfast at our mess hall.

    1. Yikes! I know, especially after 1974, that it was difficult to fund training for a lot of non-front line units, and that there are people who do good jobs not in combat in the Forces, but, yeah, golly-gee.

      Somewhere I was of the opinion that basic skills were taught to everyone, and everyone kept up training. Then I remember the cops I served with. Most never used their guns except at the once a year qualification. Oh, they carried them like they knew what to do, just they never ever shot their guns. Judging from most coply shootings in the last 10 years, most cops can't shoot worth a darned, and these are the 'front line troopies' guarding and protecting us.

      My feeling is that if there were more actual local militias, allowed to train and protect the area, maybe as an auxiliary of the local sheriff or pd, that would be better than the Mulitias, dur, dur.

      And definitely. The one who is paid up, has all the free time, has all the nice stuff, is willing to volunteer for everything, well... NARC!

  8. Where do I sign up to get my Bazooka CCW permit? Speaking of which, I need to drive up to Oregon to bring back the 1911 my FIL gave me on my wedding day (prior to any stupid laws here preventing me from owning it).


Just be polite... that's all I ask. (For Buck)
Can't be nice, go somewhere else...

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