You'll Shoot His Eye Out

Many readers have asked me "Bob, why did you become a dark ops military adviser to the Special Forces of Finland during the Cold War and train them in advanced arctic snipery with a particular emphasis on snow blinds?

Well, I always resist the urge to simply reply "because I fucking hate reindeer" which is only a very small part of the truth, say did you know the very first time I had reindeer sausage was in a nice little "BnB" in Anchorage Alaska and it was very tasty, quite lean and nicely spiced. The only disconcerting part of it was how the meat blinked bright red.

So, anyhow, here's the real story - when I was a youngster, pre-pubertal, probably 11 or 12, me and my brother and some other kids had a "BB gun war" in this big grassy dirt trailed field over by the long gone "Early Dawn Dairy" in the part of the Spokane Valley I growed up in. We teamed up with our little Daisy BB rifles and CO2 cartridge powered pistols (no pump action deadly Crosman pellet cannons allowed!) and shot at each other. It wasn't all that complicated, all that tactical, all that hiding behind shit, mostly we just spread out and crouched and tried to blast our opponents. Now, if you've never been shot by a BB gun, well good for you, but they do sting like a SOB. Close up. They don't have a lot of velocity or distance and they don't shoot real straight. So you pop away and never hit anyone unless you get real close and in a big grassy field with no real cover, no trees, no rusting hulks of automobiles, no herds of reindeer, well it wasn't too dangerous. Except.

Except I fired a shot at my bro, who was like eleventy gabillion metric yards away from me, an impossible shot, a wasted BB, a simple impotent act of rifle barreled and copper sphered sibling aggression, except.

Except I hit him in the eye. From a million miles away. And it stung him like a damn wasp. Oh God, did he holler and wail and swear like a drunken sailor robbed and beaten by dock whores. I thought I blinded him. And I did! Temporarily.

So, my amazing BB gun shot into my brother's eyeball primed me, loaded me (so to speak) for a later series of icy sniper adventures with the greatest bunch of vodka swilling Laplander wife stealin ass kickin Finns you could ever hope to meet that side of Minnesota.

I am saving most of the stories about the Special Forces of Finland for my memoirs. But I thought I'd 'splain a few things first. How I became the man I became.

Did any of your childhood experiences lead to vocational or avocational choices? Ever shoot somebody in the eyeball? How did you live with yourself? Sublimation?

Comments

[The Fool]

Criminy...it sounds like the neighborhood I grew up in. Never got lucky enough to shoot someone in the eye...and never got hit there myself...but I can attest to the sting of a BB. You made me smile with your notation of "no pump action deadly Crosman pellet cannons allowed!" Yeah, we had those, too - and we always over-pumped 'em. I can't find any relation to my early antics and my vocational choice - as I would have been voted least likely to become what I did. But I still like guns.

Now, tell us about those Finnish escapades...

[glynis]

my dad brought me home a bb pistol of some variety when i was about 8. i used to love roaming around the orchard shooting things. probably apples and probably NEVER a bird. (repeat, repeat, repeat). anyway, there was no imminent danger, likely even to the apples, as dad used to joke that if i wanted to save my bb's, i could pop off a shot and then chase after it before it landed. not only was it sloooooooow, but it had an erratic curve to it. had i mastered it, i am confident that i could get those irritating pool shots that involve some sort of damned banking off the sides. "the Christmas story", btw, is my all time favorite holiday movie. we watch it very Christmas eve. we quote the lines- most annoying to visitors. almost like singing along with old air supply songs.

[riggs]

The Great Dishman Hills BB Gun Fight of 73. We dressed up in double jeans and heavy coats(in the summer) and went at it up by the pond. I Dirty Harryed Craig Clark with my new multi-shot CO2 pistol, foot on his leg and firing away. He crawled screaming like a scalded cat on crack into the woods, blood rushing off him in torrents. Well, maybe not, but he sure could scream like a woman. I am surprised we did not die of heat stroke. Or burn our palms off on the red hot barrels of our Daisy pumpers.

[Dennis]

While reading you story Bob, It brought fond memories for me too!

I also participated in the "Great BB Gun Wars" with my bothers. Same scenario, Daisy Red Riders, no shots above the waist, unless of course you cold hit the enemy in the back,etc,etc,etc.

One day while we were out, I was armed with the "Pellet Cannon" and my brothers had the BB Guns. Recognizing that I had them out gunned, I chose not to participate. The problem was my little brother thought it was fun shooting big brother in the butt. After receiving several of those bee stings, I decided to take matters in to my own hands. Little brother took cover behind an old almond tree and attempted to lay down supressive fire. He also left his left thigh exposed. You guessed it, when that pellet caught flesh, he came rolling out from behind that tree like he had just found a live grenade.

The really fun part about this was my older brother and a neighborhood friend holding little brother down while I conducted field surgury to remove that pellet and the concoction of a story that would (1) prevent the spanking that we all knew was coming and (2) prevent the confiscation of our beloved BB Guns.

Needless to say. The story didn't work. The guns got confiscated and it was a VERY long summer.

[glynis]

gawd. i'm such a guy.

[Bob]

Somehow ... I kinda doubt that, Glynis ;)

[Pixie]

Did any of your childhood experiences lead to vocational or avocational choices?

Oviously. When I was a little kid I'd walk around our very suburban block with my red wagon looking for orphans... so you can see it also lead to my relationship choices as well. *snark*

Ever shoot somebody in the eyeball? How did you live with yourself?

No, but I put a toothpick in Bobby Buckey's ear and caused major damage because I got toothpick and q-tip confused. *sigh* I got put in the corner for an hour while my mother laughed hysterically between reprimands (because he was a mean little shit and deserved it)...

:)