The "Lowly" Rifle I

What exactly is a rifle? We’ve talked about it before. Col. Jeff Cooper (may he sit at the right hand of God) spoke about it at length. Many others have offered some very good commentary:

We carried the rifle everywhere. Its 8.69 pounds became our pounds. We learned to handle it easily, gracefully, lovingly, and with abiding affection and respect. But this respect and love did not come immediately. At first we were new to each other; the rifle was a burden. We did not understand it; we did not know its strength, its reliability, its toughness, its simple effectiveness. We did not know its power. We did not know what it could do, or its accuracy. We did not know how comforting it would be among enemies, or that we would feel alone and naked without it. Or how reassuring its weight could be and how calm and businesslike its voice.”   T. Grady Gallant

Gallant served in combat during WWII with 1MARDIV and was at Guadalcanal, where he was under enemy fire for four months. He did a second tour with 4MARDIV and was at Iwo Jima as the Sergeant for a Special Weapons Squad. He wrote On Valor’s Side, about Marines prior to and during WWII and the Battle of Guadalcanal and The Friendly Dead, which was about the Marines at Iwo Jima. Gallant, a noted journalist, died on 10 November 09 at his home in Nashville on the 234th birthday of the United States Marine Corps.

A rifle from War Sport: certainly not lowly.

If you’re interested in some more of this great authors opinon about rifles, read this:

“Until recent times, every child had a rifle of his own as soon as he was old enough to understand his father’s instructions. With it he hunted game and birds, killed snakes and protected himself against the dangers of rural life. When he was grown, he passed knowledge of the rifle down to his own son.

The rifle was honored in the home. It graced the mantel, the wall, or rested above the door. It was near at hand, clean, loaded, accurate as a fine watch, ready for service. The tradition of arms is an American tradition born of generations of self-reliance, self-sufficiency and independence – independence not in theory, but in fact; independence that rested upon individual shoulders of each member of society; independence bought of self-denial, sacrifice, and personal courage. It was not permissive. It was not necessary to ask if it were legal, or all right, or moral; this was an independence that rose out of the man himself and was of himself alone.

Such was the tradition of a free society. A society free to guard its own possessions and protect its own kith and kin; free to rush from humble dwellings to restore law and order, to exact justice, or to stop an invader of the homeland. In this, the rifle was the key. It was part of America; it was part of the man. It stood beside him. The rifle was a part of the saddle of the Western cowboy, and it is still there. The rifle was in the possession of every weary wagon in the long trains that plodded slowly across the plains and prairies. It was in the California gold fields and beside the thin blanket of the prospector as he slept on the icy ground. It was in the canoe, the longboat, the paddle-wheel steamer; it was on the rafts that drifted down America’s broad, muddy rivers. The rifle was known and loved by the Indian, who did not meet it soon enough. It was the tool of the buffalo hunter and the cook of the range camp, the rustler and the claim jumper and the highwayman.

The rifle was the symbol of life, and of death. It was a symbol of the law and the lawman, and it was often the judge and jury from whom there was no appeal. Other than the rope, the rifle was the most important single factor in American life for many generations. Together the rifle and rope stood for justice until towns and cities brought the compassion of the church and the court and the psychiatrist’s couch.

The rifle and rope kept men and cattle and horses and homes and wagons and industry and the nation together in a day when the enemy was sometimes behind the nearest tree – and the nearest neighbor was a day’s ride through virgin forests.

The rifle is still the steadfast friend of the American. He has not forgotten it. Its cold royalty courses through veins of men who have never touched its warm stock, or felt its reassuring slap against the shoulder. When these young hands – these hands that do not know the good and loyal friend – grasp it in introduction and feel its weight and see its efficient build and handsome profile, there will be a meeting of minds. These friends, they will recognize each other as Americans, old Americans, trustworthy Americans of great heritage.

Should there be another war, and should there be only two men left, it will be the rifle that decides who has conquered the world and who shall be able to retain it. And if there should be another war and the world is engulfed by forces that overwhelm men and reduce them to slavery, it will be the rifle that breaks their chains and restores human dignity. For the rifle is the force of the common man, as the bow and arrow were in earlier times, and the spear and the rock were in the beginning. It is the voice of the endangered, lonely man with his back against the wall and his whole future before him. With the rifle, Americans defeated the most powerful nation of the world and became free. With it, they will retain freedom.” – T. Grady Gallant, On Valor’s Side


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Swingin' Dick

Richard "Swingin' Dick" Kilgore is half of the most storied celebrity action figure team in the world (and the half that doesn't prefer BBWs). He believes in American Exceptionalism, America, holding the door for any woman (lady or whore) and the idea that you should be held accountable for what comes out of your fucking mouth. Swingin' Dick has been a warrior gyrovague for many years now and is, apparently, impossible to kill -- he once had a complete body transplant after an IED hit the gun truck in which he was riding. True story, one of the Cav guys mailed his head and arm home. Swingin' Dick comes from a long line of soldiers and LEOs (his Great Uncle commanded an Air Cav battalion in Vietnam and his many times removed great grandfather was one of the few original Burt Mossman era Arizona Rangers). Swingin' Dick detests Joy Behar and Chris Matthews almost as much as he enjoys traveling the world to crush crime vice and evil. He believes the opportunity to lead eeeelight team of Breach Bang Clear minions is the most improbably awesome thing an action figure has ever done and he's immensely proud of his perfect hair. Loyalty and respect should start from the top down.

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